She is looking out the window into her future. What does she see?
What can anyone see of what lies ahead? We play with reading fortune cookies that tell us we will travel or inherit a small fortune. Sometimes we
ask for a glimpse, like the trailer for a movie coming out next summer.
At a time in my life when I was slogging through "what is" trying to get to "what will be" I prayed for a sign. I prayed a long time. The reply came like a buoy, and I threw the thin tether of my hopes to it.
"It's alright if you don't know what's next.
I do."
What did that even mean? How can I go forward if I don't know what's in store? I looked over at my four year old, pulling on a red cape. He was trying to be a Superhero. Not because he held any hint of fear about tomorrow. On the contrary his confidence was rooted in the track record of those who took care of him. That would be me.
At another time of desperate
petition to God, I begged for a sign that I could actually mother a special needs child.
"He will be carried along on the wave of your family."
Seventeen years later, I still hear those words in my head, when our autistic son is thrashing out of control and his brother swoops in to calm him
down. One time I was failing to parent well and texted his sister.
"Want to rescue Ben from me?"
She arrived with fresh energy and took him out for ice cream. When she was beginning to head homeward, he suggested, "We could go to your house, if there's time."
It is exciting to look through the window into tomorrow. But I think there is a good reason for the veil.
