Most of the time we forget to notice this place where we live . . . but every once and so often maybe we notice and are filled. "He restoreth my soul" is the way the psalmist says it. For a little while the scales fall from our eyes and we actually see the beauty and the holiness and mystery of the world around us, and then from deeper down even than our hunger, restoring comes, nourishment comes. You can't make it happen. You can't make it last. But it is a glimpse, a whisper. Maybe it is all we can handle.

Frederick Buechner, The Clown in the Belfry