The Knock

In the quiet of the early morning before the bustle of the day commenced, I sat quietly in the consuming arms of peace that enfolded me like a blanket of warmth. Gone were the fits of anger from the day before and gone was the dread of physical challenges and the nag of pains. Though the pesky visitors might return, they were quiet and still at that moment. The lyrics of a hymn recently sung by the church choir descended upon my thoughts and I sank into the arms of comfort as I recalled the words. “When peace like a river attendeth my way, when sorrows like sea billows roll, whatever my lot thou hast taught me to (know) say, it is well, it is well, with my soul.” The hymn by Horatio Spafford was penned after having lost all his wealth in the Chicago fire of 1871, then having lost all four daughters in a shipwreck on the Atlantic a short while later. These words “came to him” as he later sailed past the very spot of the tragic accident that took the lives of his beloved daughters. I do not in any way equate my loss of nimbleness to the loss of life of a loved child. I believe I would endure whatever personal pain and torment tossed my way if it meant a safe and healthy life for my children. What all of us share at one time or another is the sense of loss and its attendant grief. What all may also share is the attendant “peace that passes all understanding,” that waits to be greeted at the door of grace. Today, I am grateful for hearing the knock and for flinging the door wide to that embrace of peace.