2022 • tuned June 2026
For ever beginning. Born again without end. Creation in every way decayed and renewed always. I pray with God’s hands gently cradling my head. I feel with God’s love filling my heart. I see with God’s eyes lighting the inside of my mind. I give with God’s grace, open-handed, all my life. But there are mornings, I won’t pretend, when the beginning feels like more of the end, when the sum comes up short, when the figures look wrong, and I can’t find the thread of the morning’s song. I have sat with that gray arithmetic, the ledger that will not come right. So hear the older arithmetic, the set of books God keeps, where every column balances and nothing true is lost: God equates all as one. God equates the grain of sand with the field of wheat. God equates each birth with every birth. God equates chaos with opportunity. God equates creation with celebration. God equates the hush before the song with the song. God equates all who go with all that remain. God equates your one small life with the whole of Life. And me? What creates smiles these days? For me, it’s chiming guitars. The needle drops. The twelve-string rings like morning light on water, some rhythmic complexity underneath, a neat turn of phrase or two that turns the tide back toward belief. The room fills, the doubt walks out the way it came, quiet, hat in hand, and the beginning — there it is — was only ever waiting for the song. So take it. It was always yours. Don’t hoard it. Hand it on. Let it. Don’t leave it. Give it and believe it. Laugh it and live it. And when it comes looping back to you, and it will, it always does, begin again. Begin again. You were made for ever beginning, born again without end. Rob Chavez © 2026 Rob Chavez. All Rights Reserved.