February 28, 2024
“This too shall pass.” Persian proverb
On this 15th day of Lent, I remember my mother. Whenever I found myself in moments of illness, disappointment, frustration, discomfort, or worry, she would say, “This too shall pass.” I don’t think she ever said, “I’m sorry, that must be tough,” or even, “Get over it,” but, instead, “This too shall pass.” She also told me that it was a quotation from the mystic Julian of Norwich, which I had no reason to doubt. However, I recently discovered that my mother had been wrong about that.
The proverb has a long history, dating back to the medieval Persian Sufi poets. Abraham Lincoln even used the phrase in a speech on September 30, 1859:
It is said an Eastern monarch once charged his wise men to invent him a sentence, to be ever in view, and which should be true and appropriate in all times and situations. They presented him the words: “And this, too, shall pass away.” How much it expresses! How chastening in the hour of pride! How consoling in the depths of affliction!
As the years passed, I found myself repeating my mother’s phrase (as I will always consider it to be) to my children and to my friends, and, often enough, to myself. Whatever situation we find ourselves in is temporary, ephemeral, passing—no matter how dark it may feel, and no matter how joyful it may be. Certainty is found in the assurance of these words. Our invitation is to accept them.
I consider the daffodils, my very favorite spring flower. I could fill my home and yard with them and never have enough. Since my cats won’t allow that to happen, I have learned to appreciate the pops of yellow, the hope of yellow, outside in the gray of February because daffodils themselves are ephemeral, simply passing through.
“This too shall pass,” along with the spring wildflowers just breaking the ground, this moment, this meditation, this life. May I hold lightly to the sands of my time and may you, as well.
Blessings ~ Rosemary
Yellow
The yellow daffodil breathes possibility, joy, and light
nestled at the base of the lichen-covered hickory
on this Venetian glass-colored day open to discovery.
With the eyes and ears of my heart, I see it, hear it.
Nestled at the base of the lichen-covered hickory,
the daffodil lifts its face to the Creator, breathing in me.
With the eyes and ears of my heart, I see it, hear it,
and don the same yellow mantle of creativity while
the daffodil lifts its face to the Creator, breathing in me
on a Venetian glass-colored day open to discovery.
I don the same yellow mantle of creativity while
the yellow daffodil breathes possibility, joy, and light.
(c) Rosemary McMahan
Spirit Reflections 
I wonder if your mother knew my father who said OFTEN, “Your day will come.” The next day doesn’t come without the current one passing.
Lately, I have asked people to share a six-word statement that says something about who they are. “And this, too, shall pass away.” says so much about one’s inner and outer view of the world.
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