Food for thought from “Quaker Summer” by Lisa Samson:

"Oh, come now, Heather.  Let’s be honest enough to admit the truth, all right?  I won’t tell a soul.  We’re all playacting 80 percent of the time, aren’t we?"

"What are we doing the other 20 percent?"

"We’re either with someone very safe, or we’re alone."

"Heather, when God speaks, it usually sounds like the light’s not on in the attic, usually counterintuitive from mankind’s boring ways of doing things."

No.  Not this.

Not right now.

I don’t have enough time.  Maybe I need to get away for a few days, listen to the Holy Spirit or something.

I draw a mental picture of the Spirit rolling His eyes, shaking His head, and drawing His cloak more tightly about His broad shoulders.  I hear the Spirit’s words:  If you need to take special time to listen to me, you’ve got too much to do, Heather.

"Can we do it, Jace?  Can we really follow His teachings?  I have a feeling I’ll be asking this question over and over for as long as I breathe."

"I believe we can, hon.  We won’t do it perfectly like He did, but that’s where the grace comes in."

"God’s speaking to me, Anna.  I just don’t know what it is He’s saying.  But I hear Him, like I hear the wind in the trees or that running water beneath our feet."

"Most likely you know it deep down already.  No matter.  God has plenty of time.  It’s one thing He’s never short of."

"But I feel so muddled."

"Through the ages people who listen to the promptings of God have always been thought more than a little goofy."

Liza strides through the kitchen and pours her drink down the sink. Sometimes I forget we’re not too old to be stupid.

I love.  In a bigger, broader way than I ever have before.  I realized Lark was right.  God wants us to care for the poor and the lonely and the sick, not just for their sake, but for ours.  Because in this, we become like Him, growing a bigger heart than we ever thought possible.

I wonder how many Jaces are out there.  Men and women held behind in their calling because their spouses hold on to their ankles in one way or another, refusing to let them step out.