The Spirit Knows

          January went to its eternal sleep, taking with it all the good work done, the snatches of rest in between deadlines, some heightened frustrations. And unexpectedly sad news as well: a relatively new boss whom we have grown to like would be leaving on promotion in the week to come.

          Through the weave of all 31 days of January, I had tried to pray from my heart,

Mother, give me Thy Heart, Thy Mind and Thy Spirit

          And with the days like rocks in a river, I made it across, stepping from one day to the next. Somehow the strength came and the impossible got done. Wisdom too came, bringing with it ideas for work that made all the difference. And great amounts of patience, normally in short supply with me, flowed and flowed from some secret source.

          But when the night of the 29th dawned and the news went from sentinel to sentinel that we would be in the market for the 6th boss in 7 years, I leaned against Jesus’ Heart, suddenly wearied. Every one of those 5 had torn down the previous head’s efforts and gotten us starting work from scratch. It was incredibly frustrating to start over each time, to get used to someone’s ways, only for him to leave in less than two years. I was hoping for some respite for the 4 remaining years I have till I retire but it seems not to be – again. Plus, the candidates vying to take my boss’ place brought no surge of hope to our hearts, neither a shot of light nor of joy. In the short hours to bedtime, there seemed nothing to rise up for the next day.

          Yet, on every bead of my Rosary, I laid bare my heart to the Mother of God. If anyone could understand being worn out and disheartened, it would be Mother Mary.

          Later, I awakened in the dark pre-dawn hours to the fall of rains – and something else, long missing from my life. In that very second of coming awake, I began to hear words from a song play insistently in my head,

All the days of my life…

          Sitting on the bed, trying to clear my head of mists, I made out a singer singing far from me, yet, oh, so near. Slowly, the words became clearer,

Your goodness and Your mercy will follow me,
All the days of my life

All the days of my life

All the days of my life

          God had sent someone to sing me Phil Wickham’s song of hope, to tell me that even if muddy torrents and wolves came to my paths, He would be there. That as I and all of us, each in our own lives, make our crossings, one wilding Jordan after another, He will be as much right beside us as He will be ahead of us and waiting to receive us.

          Thus, I learned anew yet again, that no matter what the seas of coming weeks and months will bring to the shores of life, God’s goodness and mercy will be present each and every day. And if we have no faith of our own left, to fear not – just ask God for His grace of trust and it will be given us.

          Despite my tiredness and strain, joy silvered into me, tripping and gurgling within, lighting darkened gullies bright.

          As if the spirit knew something. Something neither eyes nor ears have yet to perceive.

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