Pass participle

There’s an ancient Jewish folktale that goes back to the reign of Solomon. It’s said that the King, feeling blue one day, asked his chief adviser to find him a ring he had seen in a dream. 

When I feel happy, I’m afraid that it won’t last, Solomon said. And when I feel sad, I am afraid my sorrow will go on forever. Find me the ring that will ease my suffering.

So the King's aide scoured the countryside searching for this ring. Every city, every tiny hamlet, every chance meeting of wandering Bedouins. It was an impossible quest but near the end of his journey he met an old jewelry maker who listened to his dilemma. The jeweler picked up a simple gold ring he had with the four-word inscription.

When Solomon later examined the ring, all of his sorrows turned to joy and his joy to sorrows.Those words contained the most fundamental truths of what it means to be human: This, too, shall pass. 

Are you standing in an unemployment line? This, too, shall pass.

Are you at peace and harmony with all of your loved ones and friends? This, too, shall pass.

Great to hear you made the honor roll again and got the lead role in the spring musical, but I have to warn you: This, too, shall pass.

When you gazed into the mirror this morning were you quite impressed with that youthful, good-looking gal or guy staring back at you? Sorry, for this, too, shall pass.

Did the guys who pick up your trash remember to thoughtfully place your cans away from the street? This, too, shall pass.

So it seems, as the cliché goes, the only permanent thing in this life is change. People, things and experiences enter and exit our world through a revolving door. But one is constant.

He shall not pass, ever.

An Auntie with wings

We slipped quietly into the room at the nursing home, purposely not wanting to make a noisy arrival. My Mom reached for her baby sister’s hand and patted and asked how she was feeling on that chilly, sunny Saturday morning.

Had your coffee and donut this morning, sis? Brought you some visitors. Ol’ Joey boy and his fiancé came down from Indianapolis, and Kris’ boy, Logan, are here today.

I moved to the side of her bed, knelt and gently entwined my fingers with hers. Hey, don’t bother to get up. Just thought since we were in town we’d stop by to say howdy,” I said. Her right upper lip lifted a bit and she squeezed my hand. She understood my weak joke.

Fine, good, she whispered.

A million-eleventy megazillion thoughts were pouring through my memories and emotions as we clasped fingers. Here reclined a tiny woman who taught me at an early age some fundamental yet effective curse words and appropriate PG-13 responses to what life throws at us. A person who has spoken her mind since her first birthing scream; who has loved her children, family, and other inner circles with unbridled passion; and one who largely has lived a life on her terms, yet acquiescing as we all must do from time to time.

Voices in the lonely desert

So there he was  in the desert on a solitary trek. The spirit – that divine wind that knows no boundaries – had led him to this lonely place. The searing daily heat, and the numbing cold of night. Nothing to eat. Hours of personal and spiritual reflection And a time to gain guidance from his father.

It’s nearing the end of forty long days and nights. Then he hears a soothing, sympathetic voice. "I know you’re starving. Look, if you’re really God’s son, why don’t your turn those rocks into bread?”

And the hungry man answers, “Don’t you know the Scripture? Man doesn’t live by bread alone but on every word that God speaks.”

Suddenly, the traveler is magically standing on top of the Temple and looking around the city on the hill. A mocking voice speaks to him: “If you’re really God’s son, I triple dog dare you to take a leap. After all, the Scripture says He will send angels to save you.” 

To which the Galilean replies: “No doubt they would, but it’s also written in the Scripture not to test God.”