There are no more birds singing in the morning, and at nearly seven a.m., the sun is just coming up. (Why can’t we stop messing with the clocks and let it be “standard time” all year long?) It’s a dreary, rainy, chilly morning – and I love it!
I am having coffee this morning with my former boss. My friends shake their heads and wonder out loud why I would continue a relationship with someone who was so awful to me. I have asked myself the same question. I think as a Christian, it is incumbent upon me to not hold a grudge, and to love her no matter how she has treated me. But I don’t think I am required to continue a relationship when I don’t have to. And yet I am. I knitted a tiny blanket for her as-yet-unborn baby. Today I will give it to her.
The amount and type of work I am doing is really exciting. I am excited to go into my office most mornings. I feel that I am at the pinnacle of my career. And if I am forced to go back downtown, it will have been a short pinnacle at the very end. But I am hopeful that I will have a couple more years to do this wonderful and meaningful work. I will go back into the belly of the beast on Wednesday morning for the meeting I was asked to attend. I will have to pray really hard to not get agitated about and at it.
For today, it is all good. Thank you God. Read this earlier this morning:
I could look into the laboratory windows of Memorial Sloan-Kettering Hospital in New York from my bedroom window across the street. I call the corner of East 68th Street and York Avenue the corner where God pulls the rug out from under us. The rug, of course, is a diagnosis: you’ve got cancer…
There are many ‘rugs’ in our lives: the loss of a loved one; the hardship of unemployment; the heartbreak of separation; the acceptance of illness or failure; the ravages of addictions and terrible mistakes.
Trials put our faith in God on trial. In the bearing of trials, we either strengthen our faith or lose our faith. If our faith has sustained us throughout the little ups and downs of life, when a tragedy or trial comes our way, we draw on our faith, and it gives us strength. Faith is a knowledge, and such faith knows that God loves us and permits everything in our lives. Even in the worst times, he will bring something good out of it all.
This is experienced as a deep and quiet joy. Not raucous or artificial hilarity, it may even been accompanied with copious tears and mourning. But deep down is the knowledge of God’s love and presence, for he is the Weaver of the rug. — Father Jacob Restrick, O.P.