Some years back our local university constructed impressive arched gates by approaches to campus, concrete statements that this institution intends to be here, far into the future. In the medieval world and earlier, gates and walls were more than symbols, they kept villagers and estates safe. Watchmen posted on walls were on the lookout for enemies; only those who came in goodwill could enter. It makes me ask, what am I permitting entrance to my mind and heart as another year begins?

What do I wall within, and without?

I came across a poem Minnie Louise Haskins wrote in 1908 she titled, “God Knows.” It’s best known as “The Gate of the Year.”

The late Queen Mother of England admired this piece. As a young teen she handed it to her father, King George IV, to quote during his 1939 Christmas radio address, with young Brits headed to war. The style is antiquated, but as I read it through several times my understanding grew. If you have the patience in these inpatient times, you might do that, too:

“The Gate of the Year (abbreviated):”

And I said to the man who stood at the gate of the year:

“Give me a light that I may tread safely into the unknown.”

And he replied:

“Go out into the darkness and put your hand into the Hand of God.

That shall be to you better than light and safer than a known way.”

So I went forth, and finding the Hand of God, trod gladly into the night.

And He led me towards the hills and the breaking of day in the lone East.

So heart be still:
What need our little life,
Our human life to know,
If God hath comprehension?
…God knows. His will
Is best. The stretch of years
Which wind ahead, so dim
To our imperfect vision,
Are clear to God. Our fears
Are premature; In Him,
All time hath full provision. . .

(Source: “The Desert,” published in 1912.)

I halted briefly, at the word dim: “The stretch of years which wind ahead, so dim to our imperfect vision . . .”

Our dim, imperfect vision. Think of the horrors that followed the writing of this poem. World wars, Stalin, Hitler, Korea, Rwanda, Cambodia, Syria . . . And of the advances—vaccines, clean water, antibiotics, women’s suffrage, the Civil Rights movement . . .

I remember my Grandma Watrous’s comment, late in life. Born in 1886, she lost two sets of twins before birth, once after a fall. A school teacher, probably in a rural, one room school, she helped manage the family hardware store, saw two sons serve overseas during World War II, and outlived her beloved husband by over a dozen years.

It wasn’t always an easy life but she was pragmatic, like many who lived through the Great Depression. I still see the sparkle in her eyes when she said: “I lived from horse and buggies to men landing on the moon. From gas lamps to electricity. I’ve had a wonderful life!”

What is dim to our imperfect vision, the poet wrote, is clear to God.

That’s not nearly enough for most of us, but do we really want to see into the years ahead? Would it bring us more peace or increase our contentment in this moment?

Knowing fear can destroy us, Jesus said live fully today and don’t get bogged down by tomorrow. He spoke of lilies and sparrows. Common simple things, pulsating with the mystery of life, “Consider the ravens: They do not sow or reap, they have no storeroom or barn; yet God feeds them. And how much more valuable you are than birds. Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life? So if you cannot do such a small thing, why do you worry about the rest? Consider how the lilies grow: They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you, not even Solomon in all his glory was adorned like one of these.” (Luke 12:24-27 Berean Study Bible).

Last January, my friend Dorothy posted: “The new year has started and I hear a still small voice say, ‘but you know who holds your hand.’ I grew up in a home hearing my Mother sing this song. And that still small voice said, ‘hold tight to this song, don’t be afraid, I am here with you, holding your hand.’”

Amen. I’m hoping good news rides through the gates of 2020, but if invaders manage to scale the walls, they won’t have the final say.

All will be well.

Texting Thru Recovery/Indiana Gazette

textingthrucancer@gmail.com

(“The Gate of the Year,” Public Domain)