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September 21, 2013

Am I called to the life of a cloistered mink?
Like a Celtic hermit self-exiled on a rocky island in a restless sea?
To a vow of obedience?
Reluctantly, but yes.
To a vow of poverty?
Hardly, but surely to simplicity.
To a vow of chastity?
LOL, but certainly to faithfulness.
And to periods of solitude and silence.
To a life of prayer and reflection.
To a life of service, too,
Not in blissful isolation
But in weary engagement.
And this life to be lived at the old home place,
Built by my grandfather next to a lumberyard,
A house by the side of the road
Busy Southern train track behind,
A four-lane highway out front,
And across from a pawn shop.

Kirk H. Neely

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