Back in the day we used to love to go to the Olive Garden. OK. Still love to go to the Olive Garden. Got curbside soup and salad last night, matter of fact. The first time we ever knew of the place was our initial sojourn in Texas - late 80's - and I still remember the look of disdain when Hubby asked the waiter what kind of salad dressings they had. The answer... Italian... deadpan and walk away. Fast forward a few years later when the boys were along and the waiter would ask if they wanted grated Parmesan on the salad. The grinding would start and then those words.... say when. Followed by more grinding than bargained for and silence from our crew - usually broken by one of us (presumed) adults. That's enough. Then sharp looks from the boys. We finally learned to ask for a saucer of extra cheese to satisfy them. Just let me say, it did not go to waste. Everything got cheese. Everything. Not a shred left on the plate. When.
There was a lady in choir many moons ago whose mother had lived to be almost a hundred. When asked the secret to long life she replied. It's all in knowing when to sit down. Are you sick? Sit down. Emotionally weary? Sit down. Overwhelmed? Sit down. Drained? Sit down. I've been sitting down - sick and exhausted. Saying when. Then there's knowing when to get back up. Say when. When.
Treatments had become laborious, doing more harm than good. The downhill spiral was not to be arrested, only painfully slowed and prolonged. The day after the port was put in to keep on. Why? For you, my love. But then he said when. Why? For you, my love. Know when to stay, and when to go. He said now. And he's going. For his love. When.
Today or tomorrow? When will it all screech to a halt? No telling. For any of us. But today, we get to say when. When will I love better? When will I rest better? When will I give better? When will I pray better? When will I celebrate better? If when is now, then I say when. Holy week. Holy when. Holy now. Selah.
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