17 Quotes by Mary Potter Kenyon

In pursuing our passions, following our hearts, and believing that life, and the people in the world, are mostly good, choosing gratitude and joy becomes second nature to us.

Whether it means producing a piece of art, writing a short story, or simply bringing beauty into our home or into the lives of others, consider for a moment that we each have the capacity to be creative. The masterpiece, then, is not something we create to hang on our wall but something in ourselves as we fulfill our God-given potential, utilizing the talents He gave us.

Whether it means producing a piece of art, writing a short story, or simply bringing beauty into our home or into the lives of others, consider for a moment that we each have the capacity to be creative.The masterpiece, then, is not something we create to hang on our wall but something in ourselves as we fulfill our God-given potential, utilizing the talents He gave us.

Continual prayer was the one form of meditation that came naturally as grief propelled me into a running conversation with God. As I carefully considered, reflected, pondered, and meditated on those things that were true, just, pure, lovely, virtuous, or praiseworthy (from Philippians4:8), I couldn’t help but feel a semblance of gratitude.

I begin free mornings with nothing more than a mug of coffee, legal pad, and pen, refilling my cup several times, blissfully unaware of the passage of time as I write. Then I’ll glance at the clock and realize it’s the afternoon and I’m still in my pajamas.

Perhaps one of the more creative promotions of all time wasin 1969, when a marketer with the Procter & Gamble Companycame up with the idea of giving away goldfish with each purchaseof a king-size box of Spic and Span.

We put on a pot of tea, a necessity between these two writing friends. Wecould no more imagine writing without this hot sustenance than we couldwithout pen and paper. We sat at the table to talk shop, sort through ournotes, and make plans for the book. Then we settled down in the sunroom,giggling a little at the unexpected absurdity of our activity, editingwithin arm’s reach of each other, like toddlers at parallel play.

The whole encounter was surreal. No one had mentioned cancer. I hadn’t requested special treatment for Jacob. Yet he’d just nabbed a private meeting with an actor from his favorite movie. I would later ask Mike, the comic book store owner, what had prompted him to invite Jacob to the supper and a private meeting with Mr. Bulloch.“It was Jeremy at the door. He recognized something in Jacob. Jeremyis a cancer survivor.

Can you remember another time when your chest felt like this?”My fingers splayed across my aching chest as I carefully pondered herquestion. Then I nodded vigorously as I remembered. Tears streamed down my cheeks unchecked as I whispered hoarsely, “Yes, I do remember.After my husband died, it hurt like this. My chest felt full and heavy, and I thought then, Oh, this is what it feels like to have your heart break.