On the next day, I chewed on those wayward thoughts, a warning signal, a reminder that I had drifted away from my word for this year. And as I drove home from the store, tailing the car in front of me, urging them to please go faster with my hurried nearness, it came, this humbling epiphany from above. I am guilty. A scampering Grandma. A rushing fool. Instantly I slowed down, exhaled an apology. With this rushing madness lodged in my throat like a thick wad of cotton, I pulled up alongside their car at the stop light, looked toward the driver, offered up a weak smile.
Never be in a hurry, do everything quietly and in a calm spirit. Do not use your inner peace for anything whatsoever, even if your whole world seems upset.
~St. Frances de Sales~
My friend, he whispered a missive a few years back, when pain was fire-hot and the next step chock-full of uncertainty. An ancient message really. Stunned and undone I wondered at such words, at the possibility of the impossible even in this. But I want healing! Now! Please. He met me in the irrevocable moment of despair and mess, my eagerness to skip past this leg of the journey, be done with it all, fast. But his time zone is different than mine, and the message he gave me that day, all cradled in genuine love, it breathes life into the insanity of this have-it-now world.
Peace be with you, he says and I hear those angels singing praise, their voices trilling high above the world's crazy noise. Hallelujah, this anthem of hope. He rose again that third day to talk to you and me, be still thy soul, let go He says, come now, rest and sit with me.