In addition to being a sculptor, Jack has had an antique shop for 20 years. Most of the time, if I see something in his shop that I’d like for our house, he brings it home that day…not so with the marble holy-water font. When I first noticed it, months ago, I asked him not to sell it and he said OK, but never brought it home. I kept asking, but he always put me off saying, “Where is it going to go?” and even though I imagined it in a garden setting, being used as a bird bath, we didn’t really have a spot for it.
I wrote in an earlier blog that last week I had made a sitting area in our side yard, and quite coincidentally wrote Monday about Sister Sarah bringing water to the birds. When I asked Jack again, Monday afternoon, about the font he said, “I’ll bring it home tomorrow.” …and he did. I could feel the timing of this was perfect. If he’d brought it home months ago, there wouldn’t have been a good place for it, and it would have caused some conflict with us.
I didn’t grow up in an atmosphere of patience. Even now my parents always seem like they are rushing to get to the next place, and I can feel that energy within myself too, but I’m also allowing life to unfold much more naturally than I ever did before. I’m becoming more watchful and less action-oriented and much to my delight, the things that I have imagined are happening anyway.
“I regret less the road not taken than my all-fired hurry along the road I took“. Robert Brault