Feeling, even a fine feeling, for the beauties of nature isn't the same as religious feeling, although I believe that the two are closely connected . . . Nearly everyone has a feeling for nature, some more than others, but there are few who feel that God is a spirit, and they that worship Him must worship him in spirit and in truth.  ~Vincent van Gogh in a letter to his brother Theo dated Friday, 17 September 1875 (from Ever Yours: The Essential Letters)

~*~

I never want to live anywhere else but in these rocky, wooded, haunted hills of Massachusetts where the trees turn to gold, ruby, and amber every October, and Michaelmas daisies glow amethyst along the path. But if there is one thing I have learned this year, it is to not take anything for granted. Each day holds its own fragile, remarkable beauty; a passing moment of grace--sufficient grace--for this day only. Like manna in the desert, it must be searched for and collected anew every morning. Yesterday's bread has already turned to dust. 

We become holy, sacred, set apart in the act of letting go of our attachments (good health, youth, beauty, intelligence, financial security, success, religious tradition, home, &c.) and reaching out with a clean, open heart each new day for the one necessary thing.   

I don't know what will happen next week or next year, or whether I will still be living in New England, but I know who holds tomorrow, and I know who holds my hand*.

*From the hymn by Ira Forest Stanphil copyright 1950.