“What our senses fail to fathom, let us grasp through faith’s consent,” written hundreds of years ago but as fresh as a winter’s morning.

As part of a hymn and prayer, its meaning takes on potency depending on where and what you are at a given moment of life. My moment is seven months passing to a revival, or should I say, even better an even better “me.” In the baseball of life, the Senses Team believes and think it has a winning time of life with its astute sharpening over and through the years. Adding up education, experiences, books read, and news programs watched and the Seneses run onto the field with the confidence of a peacock. Faith dutifully offers prayers in the quiet of the locker room and calmly walks faithfully onto the field.

I guess for me, to continue the metaphor, my seven months was the halftime. I haven’t written an article for that long. With Advent upon me and energy returning, it just felt right tonight.

I common phrase I’ve used at funerals is, “What we throw at life and what life throws at us.” I accomplished both in one blow. Alochol threw me for many, many years and sharpened what I thought was my senses – hence the number zero on the scoreboard. Prostrate cancer is what was thrown. I’m handling both very well. People ask how I’m feeling and I say, “What’s a better word than’wonderful’?”

We teach and glibly say that faith is a “gift.” That sounds like a box waiting to be opened. (Good for a children’s sermon but that’s about it.) Faith is the breathing heart that influences and informs the senses – all of them. Perhaps this game of life is best played when those two teams become one.

Failing to fathom, I love the descriptive word “grasp.” Holding tight without smothering. Knowing we have it with open hands. Even with a broken elbow for the rest of my life, both of my hands are open to its beauty and grace.