We often struggle with the immediacy of life. We are not trained to wait, to be patient. In fact, in this 24×7 world, we are often warned that by not being on top of everything and taking action quickly, we risk losing out on what life has to offer us. But what exactly is life offering you? How does whatever you feel life is handing out meet with what God has promised? Fr. Rolheiser writes that all of this rushing around in life impacts our ability to listen quietly for that “still small voice” of God. Inside each of us, there is a deep, congenital restlessness. We are not restful beings who sometimes get restless but restless beings who occasionally experience rest. We can distract ourselves for a while, be titillated by flashy toys, be soothed and lulled by sympathetic voices, and momentarily even be content in the absence of our real mother. But we begin to miss, in the very depths of our souls, the one voice and one presence that can ultimately bring us rest. We reach a point in life when there is an ache and a sadness inside us that no one can still and comfort other than the one who ultimately brought us to birth. Like the baby frustrated with its babysitter, we, too, need to hear our mother lovingly pronounce our names. What are we ultimately searching for? We will soon be reading about Mary Magdala and her meeting with the risen Lord. He approaches her and asks: “What are you searching for?” She explains that she is searching for the body of Jesus. He says just one word to her in response: “Mary.” He calls her by name, and she not only recognizes him but also hears precisely what a disconsolate baby cannot hear in the voice of her babysitter, the voice of the mother, lovingly pronouncing her name. What do we ache for? Ultimately, all our aching is for one thing: to hear God, lovingly and individually, call us by name. There comes a moment in the night for each of us when nothing will console us other than this: hearing our names pronounced by the mouth of God.