We are exactly where we need to be right now. That’s the message in my daily meditations book for the first of January. I try to start my day with readings from this little book. It sets the tone for the day and gets the jumbled thoughts in my head a little more, as they say in some circles, prioritized. My mind won’t organize itself. I need help.

Anybody who knows me knows that I am going to live in Sedona, Arizona. Eventually. It is calling me. And I want to be there now. In the high desert. But I am exactly where I need to be right now. Here. In wet country. In the place where it has rained for two weeks, where the moss on the side of my house is a green patina that screams Wash me, I’m rotting! Where damp pine needles clog my flower beds and pile up around trees and bushes and harbor God-knows-what underneath. Where I am looking at the sun today for the first time in a long time. But I am exactly where I need to be right now. This is a hard concept to accept fully and embrace joyously. I’m not there yet. Like so many other humans, I want what I want now. I want to eat candy. Cookies. I want to go back to caffeine. I want a sandwich with white bread. And cheesecake. I want to watch television all day and not go out into the cold to walk. I want to be in a dry house in Sedona with a fireplace. I want to climb red rocks into vortexes and feel spiritual energy all around me, in a place where channeling is something many people do and not think it odd.

Yet, the hard truth of this spiritual principle reminds me that what I want is not necessarily what is right for me. The truth is that if I eat what I want, the wonderful robust health that I now enjoy is not going to last. If I don’t walk, I soon will be unable to walk. The thing is, the laws of physics, biology, and spirit are pretty much irrefutable. You do one thing, and something will happen. You do another, and another thing is going to happen. And that’s that.

But then, there is this thing called Grace. It helps me understand the principle that I am exactly where I need to be right now. It gently leads me to that page in the book. It helps me to see that I was here when my daughters and my granddaughter drove for hours to see me at Christmas. It helps me to remember how they brought laughter and light and so much love into my house, and how we included a daughter and granddaughter in Los Angeles, thanks to smart phones and face time. I was here when my daughter-in-law invited me to a beautiful New Year’s Day brunch, where I could be together in a beautiful house with my step-children and their children. I was there when my step-daughter cried because we didn’t see each other often enough, when she told me that she loved me and how important I was to her. I was there when my daughter-in-law bought ten copies of my book, asking me to sign them to give as gifts to her friends. I was there when her college-freshman daughter told me she never knew that Grand-mama was such a good writer. I was there to laugh at my step-son’s funny remarks. He is so like his father, who knew how to make me laugh. He brought him back to me. I was where I needed to be so that love could surround me.

And I am here now, where my ninety-seven year old aunt is ten minutes away. She is a little frailer every day, and no one knows the day or the hour when she will need me to come running. Here. I am here where sweet, calm friends help me through the days. I am here with my writing group, talented, generous authors that I trust and for whom I have so much affection. I am here by a beautiful river.

I do not have to understand everything. I do not have to know the future. I only have to recognize the truth when it is put before me, and yesterday and today it is this: I am exactly where I need to be right now.

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Read The Messenger: The Improbable Story of a Grieving Mother and a Spirit Guide by Helen Delaney. Available on http://www.Amazon.com