Mystery

G.K. Chesterton talks about the human inclination to forget identity – that we may grasp the cosmos more than the ego, that the self is more distant than the farthest star. He says we have forgotten our names, even what we are, but that in moments of spirit and art and ecstasy we may be able to remember what it is we’ve forgotten.

I thought about this tonight as we celebrated the end of the old year with a spread of hors d’oeuvres beside the fireplace.  2015 was a mysterious year in some ways – with real secrets and puzzles and enigmas that were sometimes challenging or grand, but always to be respected. 

It struck me that it was in those very mysteries that the essence of life also streamed through with a crystal-clear calling into the unknown, a calling to hope and expectancy and peace, an opportunity to live by faith.

This calling tells me who I am.