All in good time!” my husband used to say. “All in good time.” In our younger years this drove me crazy because I'm one of those impetuous people who make snap decisions, wondering why in the world anyone would waste time mulling over something that you already knew was the right thing to do.
On the other hand, Art never made a quick decision in his life. “If you just wait,” he advised me, “everything will work out the way it's supposed to.” He saw no reason to rush into anything. And for him it worked, well, most of the time.
Many years ago, the musical Camelot had its opening in Toronto. We were ardent fans of the stars — Richard Burton, Julie Andrews and Robert Goulet — and it seemed a wonderful chance to attend a big-show opening. When we phoned for tickets, they were all gone and I sagged with disappointment. “Never mind,” Art said, “we'll drive to Toronto anyway. We'll get tickets. All in good time.”
We went from ticket office to ticket office, always getting the same reply, “There are no tickets nor cancellations for any of the performances.” Wearily, trudging up Yonge Street, I was more than willing to give up. “Let's go home. This is hopeless.” “You give up too easily,” Art scolded, “we'll find tickets. All in good time.”
We were about to pass a music store, when Art wheeled in, pulling me along. I trailed reluctantly behind as he strode to the ticket booth at the back of the store. He's wasting his time, I know it! The agent was on the telephone but when she laid down the receiver and heard Art's request, she smiled broadly, “Well, you are in luck. The person I was speaking to just cancelled two reservations!” Art grinned at me. “I told you. All in good time — you just have to be willing to wait.”
I have to be honest and say that many of the quick decisions I was so positive were right, turned out to be wrong even when I was sure that it was God leading me. Of course, Art's plans also backfired occasionally. In the past, we loved trips to England to visit his relatives. In our later years, when both they and we were getting older, I urged him to make one more trip before it was too late. “We'll do it,” he always answered, “all in good time. We're still young!” Well, now, unfortunately, I'm making plans to go alone. Still, on the whole, it was a philosophy that worked better than my impetuous way of doing things.
Now that I'm a widow, there are so many decisions and I miss his careful, thoughtful way. After a year of being alone, I put my house up for sale and began looking at condominiums. I found one I simply loved. Although it was a bit pricey, I told myself it would hold its value. Besides, it was perfect for me. Advised not to own two homes at one time, I still called the agent and placed an offer on it. It so happened that this occurred on a weekend when I was going away so I didn't have time to sign the document or drop off the cheque.
It gave me time to seriously reconsider. Suppose my house didn't sell as quickly as I hoped? Suppose I had two sets of municipal taxes to pay, along with condo fees and the upkeep on two places? Suppose this went on for a year, or two? What would I do? I knew I'd be worried sick. Common sense clicked in. It was not something I wanted to deal with. When I arrived home, I telephoned the agent and cancelled the deal. Yes, I was sorry I wouldn't be moving into that beautiful condo, but the pressure was off and I was very thankful. I thought of Art and his “all in good time.”
