“You first learn not to let your own concern come through in your voice, then not to frown, and then to smile when a baby has croup and a young, frightened mother calls at three in the morning, panicked and seeking your help. You watch the seasons and wait for the burning heat of August to turn gradually to cool autumn, the the gray, clipped afternoons of January, slowly, in tiny steps, giving way to the first pale green buds of spring. You learn to let this old earth turn on its hinges, and you realize you are a mere passenger. You learn to let things run their course. You come to understand time and its meanings. You learn there really isn't much difference between minutes and hours, days and weeks. When you do try to move things faster than their natural gait, it is all to easy to become frustrated and then disappointed. When you rush things you may lose their meaning. I suppose God wants us to notice things and learn. I suppose He gives us experiences that we might sort through them, retain what we should, discard what we don't need, and inch along toward what we are destined to be in the eternities.”