In the end, if we don't have God we don't have anything other than an end.

Maybe I don’t have enough beginnings in my life because I fought against the endings that were about to birth those beginnings.

The Christmas story is penmanship of the most brilliant sort, where God crafted a beginning that would never be subject to an ending.

As it peaks over the horizon, does not a sunrise whisper the opportunity to try again. And if the day passes and our efforts were stunted by the bane of our insecurities or blunted by the challenges of life, does not a sunset invite us to rest before it whispers the same message the next morning?

How many beginnings were held at bay because we refused to let an ending be an ending?

So how permanent is an ending? The answer depends on our belief in the permanence of beginnings. For if we hold to the latter, the former will be forced to hold to the same.

My fear of endings too often blocks my hope of beginnings.

What I would be quite wise to remember is that ‘pieces’ are not the end of what was, but the beginning of what is to be.

In case you’re short on definitions, here’s one. Insanity: ‘Destroying the very things that sustain us.’ And if we’re so short-sighted so as to make such preposterous choices, then it’s not all that preposterous to believe that shortly our end will be in sight.