"One thing I've learned in life — the hard way and the long way unfortunately: There is a great deal of mystery in reality. My father died when I was three. Why such a thing would happen to a young mother and a small child is surely a mystery. My mother lived for twenty-eight years with Alzheimer's disease, and the mystery of it got deeper every day. I am at this moment sitting in an airport boarding lounge in Tokyo, the surety of today's flight long gone, an overnight delay a possibility, the length and difficulty of the trip a certainty. The mystery of such a hard ending to a long trip completely escapes me.
"In fact, the real mystery is why such things happen at all. But the greater mystery may be what to think of them, how to handle them, how to deal with them spiritually. I found a story that provided some of the perspective it takes to embrace the mysteries of life, if not with 'joy,' at least with trust.
"There were two monks, one somber and one joyful, each belonging to a different tradition, living miles apart. The first monk prayed all day long in deep, motionless silence. The second monk would sing and dance his praises to God near a huge tree in the monastery garden.
"One day an angel appeared to the first monk and said, 'I have come from God, and you have been given permission to ask God one question. What is your question?' The somber monk looked up and said, 'How many more lives must I live before I will attain self-realization?'
"The angel left him and reappeared miles away to the second monk who was singing and dancing before God. The angel said, 'I have come from God, and you have been given permission to ask one question of God. What is your question?' Without hesitation, the joyful monk asked, 'How many more lives must I live before I will attain self-realization?' And with that the angel disappeared.
"One week later the angel returned to the first monk and said, 'I have the answer you seek. You must live three more lives before you will attain self-realization.' With that, the first monk fell dejectedly into heavy sobbing, 'Three more lives, three more lives. Oh, no,' he cried, 'three more lives.'
"The angel left immediately and appeared to the second man. 'I have your answer. Do you see that tree around which you have been dancing and singing your praises to God?' 'Yes,' said the joyful monk. 'You must live as many more lives as there are leaves on that tree before you will attain self-realization,' the angel said.
"The monk looked up at the tree and said, 'Why, there must be ten thousand leaves on that tree. Only ten thousand lives? Only ten thousand more lives, and I will attain self-realization.' And he began to sing and dance joyfully before God.
"Suddenly a voice thundered from heaven, 'My son, this day you have attained self-realization.'
"It's not always possible to rejoice in our struggles. But it is always possible to trust them. Then, we may surely give thanks, not for the blessings we have, but for the blessings we cannot see.
"In every struggle, there is a hidden blessing. If my father had not died, I would never have discovered the Erie Benedictines. If my mother had not been ill for so many years, I would never have received the blessing of caring for her in her old age. If I hadn't been delayed in Tokyo today — well, the effects of that I don't know yet, but I have no doubt whatsoever that the blessing lurking there will somehow, someday become clear.
"Think about your own struggles for a while and 'give thanks to God.' "
