In my idealistic twenties someone told me the sequence of enlightenment. 

 

First you chop wood and draw water. Then you have an epiphany. After which you chop wood and draw water. 

 

I thought it was cool, though personally I had spent zero time chopping or drawing, except with a pencil. 

 

Someone I love went through an excruciating time in his life. Helpless, and hopeless, I wondered if he would come out the other side with his faith in God in one piece. 

 

But in his search for bearings, because there were no answers, he sought other sources of meaning. He quit his job and traveled for awhile, and spent time with family. His prayer practice deepened.  Over the next few years he grew in amazing ways, going forward without regrets.

 

If I were God, which I am not, I wonder if I would weigh the pros and cons. In doling out circumstances, would I consider it worth the pain he endured, in order to make significant growth on many other fronts? Fortunately I have no such power, but I do wonder. 

 

Another shift was that my friend did not take his troubles personally. It might sound odd to suggest that he might, but I know I am vulnerable to such illogical thinking. The other night Ben woke up howling, and my reaction was to pick apart all the things I might have done wrong to trigger him. Then I thought of my friend. Maybe Ben's anxiety is neither caused, nor cured by me. Imagine that. I am simply his mother, living side by side as both he and I find ways to fit puzzles. Tell jokes. Sleep. 

 

Here is his latest riddle.

 

Why are penguins socially awkward? 

 

Because they can't break the ice.