All Shall Be Well

Some nights waves of weariness beat against our brains, crash against our hearts, wash over our bodies, threatening to erode our best defenses like sand dunes upon the shore. The water is cold, dark, and deep. Diversions that have worked in the past - drink, drugs, food, sex, shopping, work - now obscure a dangerous undertow. Nothing seems to hold back the tide. We need someone to throw us a line, to rescue us from drowning in disappointment.

When these nights come and I find I’m stranded alone on the beach of faltering belief, I have refuge in a very centering and comforting prayer by Dame Julian of Norwich, a thirteenth-century English mystic:

ALL SHALL BE WELL,
AND ALL SHALL BE WELL,
AND ALL MANNER OF THINGS SHALL BE WELL.

This simple affirmation of faith is especially comforting because it seems to console the dark submerged sadnesses of the inexplicable, the unexpressed, the unresolved, the unfair and the undeniable that stalk my soul after I close my eyes. I’ll say the prayer over and over again softly, under my breath like a mantra, not trying to understand the meaning of the words because I can’t. Some mysteries are beyond our comprehension. Some mysteries we will never solve. Never know.

So instead of trying to make sense of it all, I’ll simply let the spirit of the words soothe my frazzled mind and harried heart until sleep comes. Sometimes we can’t make sense of it. Sometimes none of it makes sense. Sometimes it just is. But if we can hold on long enough for this night to give way to another day, all shall be well, even if it’s different from what we had expected. Even if it’s different from what we had hoped for and believed with all our hearts would happen.

ALL SHALL BE WELL,
AND ALL SHALL BE WELL,
AND ALL MANNER OF THINGS SHALL BE WELL.