There was a kerfuffle. I was caught up in the vacuum left behind when actual information is lacking, and puffed up my opinions as if they amounted to a hill of beans. But then I stopped by the office of someone whom experience has shown me is mindful of her own limits. I wanted to be in her presence, and let the calm seep into me, too. 

"The proportion of what I know to what I don't know is like this." She held two fingers close enough that a fly would have trouble squeezing past without sacrificing a wing. 

Her humility did not come easily. She works on her spiritual growth like some people plan their retirement packages. Perhaps she read the story about laying up treasures in heaven and took it to heart. 

"I trust that God is working through all the people involved, and so far His record is pretty good." 

I walked back into my to-do list, which was no shorter, but somehow felt airier. Taking a deep breath, I remembered that God has not crumbled under pressure before. Perhaps there were better uses of my time than stewing. Or looking for blame. 

The rest of the day afforded me the chance to make supper for an elderly woman whose innocence emanates from her like the candle in her window. I helped a gaggle of young teens sew bags, whose young beauty and uncertainty felt like a story whose page is still wet with black ink. Do they even comprehend how precious they are? I doubted it, as they fretted over seams and wobbly rulers. 

Maybe not knowing all the facts isn't a death sentence. If I look into the faces of each person God sends my way and find a piece of His handiwork, I will not be robbed of my wings.