One of my favorite quotations comes from the writings of English mystic Julian of Norwich: “…All shall be well, and all shall be well and all manner of thing shall be well.”
In any day, life hiccups and things go bump in the night. But over the course of a lifetime, all does indeed become well.
And so it seems is Max, who gave us quite a scare yesterday. Max is home now, after a battery of tests and after more than a little stress to this poodle mom. Yesteday the vet had no clue what could be the source of Max’s latest malady. Today the official diagnosis is Addison’s, which means Max’s body manufactures no cortisone. Yes, none. Did it stop all at once? Was the cortisone spigot operating on Friday noon and turned off six hours later? That’s how quick it seemed to happen. One moment Max is his bouncy self; the next a limp rag.
I really try not to worry over that which I’ve no control. Sometimes this is easier said than done, like last night. I woke up in the dead of night to remember Max. And before drifting back to sleep, I whispered a quick prayer. And even though it was brief, I told God exactly what I wanted for Max; none of this ‘thy will be done’ business.
I wish I could have the faith of St. Julian that all shall be well. Then I wouldn’t feel this need to give God a helping hand with shaping answers to my prayers. Maybe that’s why I prefer, or maybe why I feel I am at my best, when I pray without words.
When I pray with words, I’m slumming. But not so with Julian. Her words, like the poets, soar. And they help lift me up — out of the slum of my own words — to heaven, I guess. And God, I hope.
And ushered into the presence of God, with love in my eyes and no words on the tongue, here is the part where I thank God that Max will soon be all well. God’s good at reading minds and hearts.
an everyday life 
I think I first came across Julian of Norwich in Annie Dillard. Do you know? I wouldn’t be surprised to find it’s in Pilgrim at Tinker Creek. Anyway. I love the affirmation.
And I love hearing the good news about Max. I presume he’s home now or will be soon. Give him an extra pat for me.
I read Pilgrim several years ago — but don’t recall Dillard’s use of the quote. But no matter, I’m not surprised that Dillard has feast days with the saints. Just recently I ran across the inclusion of an excerpt of Dillard’s Pilgrim, representing a reading from a modern day saint, in Renovare’s book on Devotional Classics. In this book, Dillard keeps company with Norwich — and isn’t there a rightness about these two keeping company? Norwich found God in a humble hazelnut — and Dillard find footprints of the Creator throughout the natural world.
Closer to home, I thank you for your good wishes for Max. I’ll pass along the pat. Max is home — a little better — but not yet up to sniff. As I learn more about Addison’s, I find that there is more than one type of the disease, and for lack of a better word, it appears meds are a process of refinement. But even in his diminished self, it is still good to have Max home.
For you to drop in during the daylight hours, I’m guessing it’s still raining in Houston.