Not some. All.
Copied from “The Telegraph,” Let there be light: detail from a stained-glass window at Norwich Cathedral depicting Julian of Norwich. CREDIT: PjrWindows / Alamy Stock Photo
You have likely heard the well-known quote of Julian of Norwich:
All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.
It’s a beautiful quote. The repetition of the phrase “all shall be well” and the emphasis when you add, “and all manner of thing.” It’s encouraging to the nth degree, right? I do not know a whole lot about Julian of Norwich but this quote has given me comfort for years. Similar to another comforting quote, the verse:
And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose. (Romans 8:28)
I often think about the future—the future of the world, but most especially, the future of my loved ones. I’ve had a lifelong occupation of worrying about those I love, of having—as I thought of it—too good of an imagination. I excelled at imagining “movies” of my loved ones being hurt or having tragic things happen to them or all kinds of terrifying possibilities of harm. As I got older, I got better at not cycling those imagined tragedies in my mind, but still, I would often wonder what would happen to my beloveds after I died.
One day I thought about my parents’ death in 2017 and it occurred to me that when they died, I was not sure how I’d live without them. I wrote once about “an invisible infrastructure” of thoughts and prayers that was gone from my life after they died. Then I realized, “Here I am, here we are, many years later and look, we are figuring it out. We are here. Bad things have happened, good things have happened, and we have figured it out and are still going along.”
It comforts me to think of that when considering my own passing. My kids, grandkids, and their kids, grandkids, and on and on: they’ll figure it out. Bad things will happen, good things will happen, and they will still go along. And besides that, even if they don’t believe or realize it, God will always be there with them.
It is a comforting thought, but the “bad things will happen” part still tugs at my heart. I don’t want to think about that part. I only want good things to happen to those I love.
I read I Julian: a Fictional Autobiography of Julian Norwich by Claire Gilbert recently and one part stayed with me. In the novel, Julian talks about the “holy church,” which is what she calls the Catholic church of her time (back in the 1400s) teaching her that some creatures are damned, damned to “hell without end."* Then, the novel says:
Holy church has taught me this. If it is true, it is impossible that all manner of things shall be well. Some manner of things. Not all.
God said:
What is unpossible to thee is possible to me. (Location 4080 of 4579 in the Kindle version)
And later:
Sin is behovely,** but all shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.
All not some. All. (Location 4238 of 4579 in Kindle version)
“All not some. All.”
That’s what stuck with me: Not some. All.
I guess if I really think about it, those words don’t change the meaning, do they? It doesn’t take away the fact that “bad things will happen” is still true. But somehow, it does change the meaning in my heart for me, and maybe for you, too?
All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.
All not some. All.
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* Julian was loyal to the church and dedicated her whole life to the church. Although she notices her own visions and meditations are at times not what the holy Church teaches, in the novel, she says, “…for I do not want my words to turn people from holy church.” (Location 1749 of 4579)
** behovely: I believe that the meaning of this old English word in this context is “Unable to be avoided; inevitable,” one of the meanings ascribed to it. (Wiktionary, the free dictionary)