The days have been very busy since my last post. As always, it was not a busyness I welcomed. It left me little space and time to quieten down and to listen up, despite all the signs calling for me to do just that. Still, there were sparse moments when it was possible to gaze into the distance and listen to the snatches of whispers borne in by the cold, shifting winds.
Trust
Trust
Trust
they called out as they sailed westward past me. Trust when all seems dark. Trust when hopes are long in coming true, went a line in an old prayer I had tacked to the softboard on the wall next to my college bunk bed decades ago. A prayer I had prayed each night, when I was on the cusp of joy but didn’t know it.
Last year, freed from a prison the world had put me in, I learned yet another prayer of trust from the heart of a new saint,
I trust You
to be stronger than each storm within me.
I will trust in the darkness and know
that my times, even now, are in Your hand… ~ St Brendan
Now, the earth beneath is shifting once more. Changes are afoot for many of us. In my studies, I am about to enter the research phase. Never a person easily at ease with strangers, I am naturally apprehensive. Changes might be coming to our workplace too. There are rumours that our second-in-charge might be transferred out. Largely disliked by many, what joy to be given this hope – except that the rumoured replacement is worse news. Nonetheless, for once, perhaps only briefly, I clearly perceive the futility of parting the mists to peer into what the future holds.
Trust
Trust
Trust,
the winds call out once more.
Indeed, sometimes that is all one can do, the only thing that is needed.
Just as there are times for searching, for action, there will also be times to trust and let the mists be.
writingonmyheart 