My Grandpa used to stand in the driveway and wave when people left his house. And good Catholic that he was, he’d shout at them as they pulled down the driveway “Keep the faith!” Grandpa’s house sat pretty far back from the street, and there was a concrete wall that ran beside the long, twisty driveway. And just after anyone shifted their car into reverse and started to move, he’d suddenly remember to warn them and shout “Don’t hit the wall!” I think more than a few rear bumpers had lasting impressions from visits to Grandpa Bill’s house. My lasting impression was of those two phrases bellowed back-to-back at departing loved ones and vehicles. “Keep the faith… DON’T HIT THE WALL!”
There are days in this time of isolation where I hit the metaphorical wall of boredom. Or loneliness. Or frustration over One More Thing being canceled. But like the exiled people of God (who still had to wait through their “70 years”), we are heard by God, and promised that he’s still here and at work. Keep the faith. Don’t hit the wall.
