She told the story of an encounter between an Irish fisherman and an American. And of a collision of pace. The Irish man slow and deliberate. The American all about places to go and things to do. When the American suggested that perhaps the fisherman could hurry up the man replied, “Oh now, I don’t have time to hurry.”

I don’t have time to hurry. A powerful statement made all the more so because the woman who told this story is dying. She has perhaps months and more likely weeks in this life. Her journey of transition has been one of acceptance, grace, and intention to appreciate and enjoy each day. We just took a walk through her neighborhood to a nearby café. As trite as it sounds we took our time to enjoy the gardens, to admire the flowers, to smell the bushes of lavender and thyme…and yes the roses. In living each day and each moment she doesn’t have time to hurry.

And really, do we?