All the darkness in the world cannot extinguish the light of a single candle.

In Thee, O Lord, do I put my trust: let me never be put to confusion. Psalm 71:1

Yesterday afternoon a rather mixed bag of people gathered together along three or four long tables set up at Guadalajara Grill on Prince to celebrate Tom Copps’ seventy-first birthday. And the woman with the cart of salsa ingredients came by and did her magic, and I nursed a happy hour margarita for two hours while the mariachi band, wow, were amazing.

And Tom says he hates the word now, the one he left me with all these years, the word that now casts my vision for life: the Greek word hupomone, which according to Strong’s Exhaustive Concordance, Strong's #5281: hupomone (pronounced hoop-om-on-ay') from 5278; cheerful (or hopeful) endurance, constancy:--enduring, patience, patient continuance (waiting).

I gotta say that I am whipping through a lot of decisions every day, and none of them are frightfully important at one level: which appliances to buy, should I go to Italy or not to host a beautiful bed and breakfast in the northern countryside for the month of June, do I accept invitations for coffee with someone who I haven’t seen for nineteen years, and how long do I sit on hold with the United States Post Office in order to address the fact that I have received absolutely no mail at my house including the electricity, gas, water and sewage bills, my driver’s license and a new electric toothbrush? (Answer: one hour and twenty-three minutes).

And rightly or wrongly, I am simply taking a deep pause, breathing a whispered prayer O LORD I put my trust in You, and leap. And I do my darndest to surround myself with quiet and not confusion, and at the end of it all, I seek to remain under, hupomone.

And it still doesn’t answer the questions as to whether I keep the very cool 100-year-old-claw-foot-tub or put in a simple shower, but in a way it does, because truly there is a cheerful patience that overrides the details.

And I sent off a chunk of St. Francis quotes this morning to a friend, and he does a great job of articulating the day-to-day of this calling: Lord, help me to live this day, quietly, easily. To lean upon Thy great strength, trustfully, restfully. To wait for the unfolding of Thy will, patiently, serenely. To meet others, peacefully, joyously. To face tomorrow, confidently, courageously.

So be it.