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1 " The lesson of acceptance is one of the hardest to learn. I've been working on it for quite a spell, and cannot yet rate myself as A or even B. To accept changes, slow or sudden, to accept the inevitable alterations in one's life, even in one's way of living or thinking, isn't easy; and to accept other people's inviolable right to opinions other than your own is hard, too.To accept God's will, even if you do not understand it—and few of us do—is the most difficult, yet rewarding of all acceptances. Those of us who say the Lord's Prayer—formally at religious gatherings, aloud in a quiet room, or mentally to ourselves—rarely stop to think about each word and sentence or ponder on its strong core of inner meaning. To me the four words, Thy Will be done, are the most important; and they are valid in every creed.Blind faith is something we've heard about as long as we remember. I do not think this is the ultimate in belief. Unless his small personal world has been shattered, the faith of a child in his parents and in his total security is blind until he begins to think for himself, at which point reason gives blind faith its sight. An adult's faith must be logical and based upon an immutable foundation, which gives him the capacity, when for him the world is shattered, to go a step beyond the bewildered child and accept loss or alteration. "
― Faith Baldwin , Testament of Trust
2 " We live, whether we know it or not, simultaneously upon two levels of consciousness—the outward and the inward, the physical and the spiritual. Only a few people in the history of the world, I imagine, have achieved a whole self, integrated, with absolute freedom from discouragement, and with a serenity which is complete both inside and out. Only a few have been able to divorce themselves from anxiety, sorrow and responsibility—as well as joy—and to remove from their consciousness all the frustrations, limitations, disappointments and worries implicit in life upon earth. Every person I have ever known, however rooted in marvelous trust in God—with which some are born and others win with difficulty and frequent backsliding—is often cast down, has dark moods and desperate hours. I am many times discouraged, mainly about myself and my failures in endeavors or relationships, or about people I love who are going through something hard to endure. Therefore, on the surface, which is where we at least appear to live during our waking hours, I am often as unquiet as the February day.Few escape; and in the black hours it seems useless to tell ourselves—however true—that this, too, will pass; that this is also a lesson to be learned. It will, and it is; but there are moments when words are just words without more than the dictionary meaning.One thing is certain: if we can alter the circumstance which threatens to defeat us, that is our responsibility; if we cannot, and know it is God's will, we can, however unhappily, accept it.Sometimes I feel that I'm mistreated; that I have waited too long for the telephone which didn't ring, the letter which didn't come; that I have suffered too many vigils during the nights and days when someone I loved lay critically ill or upon an operating table.Yet, in recent years, I know—as truly as I know I am breathing at this very moment—I have achieved an inner quietude which is undisturbed by the procession of outer events. I have learned painfully, if not wholly, to retreat within this fortress when matters go wrong beyond any remedial measure of my own, past any effort I can make, and beyond my comprehension as well. This is the lull in the February storm, the gentling of the wind, the essential safety, warmth and the breaking through the light. "