Every day of my life had ended like this: that deep steady voice, that sure and eager confiding of us all to the care of God. The Bible lay at home on its shelf, but much of it was stored in his heart.

Worrying does not empty tomorrow of its troubles...it empties today of its strength.

Lord, I give to You the way I feel about Karel, my thoughts about our future—oh, You know! Everything! Give me Your way of seeing Karel instead. Help me to love him that way. That much.

There were answers to this and all my hard questions—for now I was content to leave them in my father's keeping.

Every day of my life had ended like this: that deep steady voice, that sure and eager confiding of us all to the care of God.

Worry does not empty tomorrow of its sorrow; it empties today of its strength.

Rather than worrying about work, schedules, and deadlines, I felt at peace with God. He was in control. The world at large would not crumble because I turned off my iPhone. This is how it's supposed to be. For the first time in who knows how long, I felt like myself. Fully alive. Fully present. And fully aware of God's goodness.

One's action ought to come out of an achieved stillness: not to be a mere rushing on.

I got the blues thinking of the future, so I left off and made some marmalade. It's amazing how it cheers one up to shred oranges and scrub the floor.

In my career, there have been roles I haven't taken because someone involved with the project gave me a bad vibe. I don't care how much money is on the table: No job is worth feeling uneasy every day.

Don't borrow trouble from round the bend,

I live too often in the realm of what if. I also expend time and mental energy continually trying to anticipate what sort of crouching tiger might be hiding around the next corner.