Um.

John and Jen are at the Cardinals baseball game in St. Louis. I stayed home. In the back of my head I thought that I might get some writing done. Specifically, I planned to work on my monthly Catholic by Grace article.

I don't think I've ever had a month come along without some inspiration rising up from the mundane events of life to give me a little direction.

It's not the end of the month yet, so all is not lost. There's still time for something to break through the fog.

In college, we called it the Muse - that something that comes along and grabs the writer's attention.


I don't believe in it. I also don't believe what they used to say, about how the Muse comes to you and if you don't latch on to the inspiration "he" offers, he'll fly away and give the gem to someone else. He'll offer his gift to another more receptive writer.

No, I don't believe in the Muse.

I believe it has more to do with listening to life. Listening to my own life. A kind of know thyself inventory, where you become the student of your own life.

And if you are a person of faith, you get the added help of grace. You have the advantage of considering life events through the prism of grace.

And that makes everything fodder.

So, I'm waiting. Expectantly, waiting. For something to pierce through my foggy head and replace today's um with that wonderful sense of ah.

That's how it feels when grace shows up.

Um.