Our peace and contentment always depend upon our resignation into God’s hands, no matter what our circumstance. The Psalmist writes, “Delight thyself also in the Lord; and he shall give thee the desires of thine heart” (Psalm 37:4).
How can I long to be married without obsessing about it?
I suppose the dynamics of that question and its answer relate not just to marriage, but to almost any strong desire that you have, especially a desire relating to people.
So my mind broadens out from the marriage issue to ask, "Why do we obsess about anything? Why do we have overweening preoccupations with anything?"
Waiting for God is not laziness. Waiting for God is not going to sleep. Waiting for God is not the abandonment of effort. Waiting for God means, first, activity under command; second, readiness for any new command that may come; third, the ability to do nothing until the command is given.
- G. Campbell Morgan
Joseph is in love with Maria. I know this sounds strangely close to a Bible story, but it isn't one. These two young people live in a story told by Mary Gordon in her book Temporary Shelter. Joseph has loved Maria ever since the two of them were children, since the day his mother went to work for Maria's father. Joseph, a Catholic boy, is drawn to Maria's Jewish roots, even though Maria and her father had left their tradition long ago. And Maria is drawn ever more deeply into the world of the Roman Catholic convent near her home. Oh, she loves the pure singing of the nuns, the voices of angels. Joseph could see that he was losing her. He saw it clearly one day when they sneaked into the balcony of the convent chapel:
That day in the convent she was far away from him. She looked down at him as though from the lit mountain on whose top she stood and kept him from the women's voices rising by themselves into the air� rising without effort above everything that made up life. You never saw the faces of the women who made those sounds�only the light that came through stained glass windows�Joseph saw Maria rise up on the breaths of the faceless nuns, rise up and leave him, leave the body that ran and lay on the grass. The body she loved that always did what she told it, that could dance and climb, or run behind him and put cool hands over his eyes and say, "Guess who?" as if it could be anybody else. But in the chapel she rose up and wanted to leave the body life that she had loved, leave him and all their life together.
Petofi Sandor 1823年—1849年原文Szerelmemért föláldozom / Az életet, / Szabadságért föláldozom / Szerelmemet）. --Petőfi Sándor.
