“ Last Wednesday I drove to the college to leave off some papers, and to pick up a brochure. I parked outside of Kingscote and went inside. On coming down from the second floor, that long, broad sweep of stairs parts as one stream diverges into two; or fuses, as two people, metamorphosing into one again, as in marriage.
Down the elegant walkway I glided, (for you can do nothing but glide on stairs such as these) and across the large front room where small offices spill over to right and left, and out the heavy glass doors to the columnaded porch.
Away I took myself through the foliage and the trees, down to the quiet drive to the open gate. Along the sidewalk, which runs along the outside of the wall which encloses Kingscote in its garden. Across the street to the Seventh Street gate which stood entirely open, due to the fact that once inside the gate the roads were being dug up and the myriad tangle of one-way streets were dirt impasses with only one left intact for driving.
The trees melded together to give the appearance of a green canopy overhead. Straight through the gate the grounds resembled an explosion of foliage; dense patches of shrubbery amidst gravel paths and marble benches. Situated wherever it seems the eye would fall on a bare spot, were large, ornate planters on pedestals, filled with impatiens, dripping with ivy down to the ground.
As I walked along the drive the serenity was broken only by distant rumblings of thunder; the sun, spilling a lukewarm milkiness unto everything, took itself away. Of birds I saw none. Only cicadas answered the dull afternoon heat. A few cars dotted the landscape, but it seemed as if I had entered a place of no people. There was no sign of human life anywhere. If God had appeared, I would have thought I was in paradise. “
I wrote these words in 1992. Such a very long time ago, now. Most of that scenario remains the same, only different people go in and out of those gates. I have not been there in a very long time, ('there' being Georgian Court University) or as I knew it and loved it, Georgian Court College, and that is as it should be; all things in their time.
We step through life, one small step at a time. They are called days. Each day comes completely unsullen; a gift to us, bright and beautiful, almost like a smooth pond frozen over in glassy ice; and we venture out slowly, carefully at first, then as we get our footing, more boldly, perhaps arrogantly.
Too often amidst our stamping and raving the ice cracks, and occasionly, breaks completely.
When trials abound, when uncertainty stands fully on our doorstep, it's easy to be afraid.
Do not be afraid.
If my Catholic faith has taught me anything at all, it is to not be afraid. God is with us. Always. In pretty days and joyful times, in stress-filled times and dark nights of the soul. He never leaves us. He never will. Nor will his mother. And best of all, we go to Mary, always go to Mary; laying down our cares and our hearts to her, asking her intercession, pleading her mercy, giving her our love.
She, in turn, gives it all to her precious Son.
Whatever we face this day, we are not alone. As St. Padre Pio reminds us, “pray, hope, and don't worry”.
So, I am happy to being going nowhere. And loving it. Oh, not in life, mind you; we all have places “to go”, and things to do, and goals to tend to.
In my faith. I am going nowhere. As the Beatles once sang, “I am happy just to be with You.”