Gramma died 25 years after she stopped mothering me. But she left me something special, and I hear it whenever the need occurs. A tune wafts in unexpectedly when I am kneading bread or hanging laundry on the line. The opening phrase of an old hymn bursts from my mouth: "Are ye able," I suddenly sing out. "To believe that Spirit triumphs," I can hear Gramma picking up the next line. The verses poses a great question about faith, but I am thinking about what Gramma gave me. "Lillian," I answer, "thank you for my voice."
Our soul makes constant noise, but it has a silent place we never hear. When the silence of God enters us, pierces our soul, and joins its silent sacred palce, then God is our treasure and our heart. And space opens before us like a fruit that breaks in two. Then we see the universe from a point beyond space.
The beauty of the world is the co-operation of divine wisdom in creation. All love of universal beauty proceeds from God dwelling in our souls and goes out to God present in the universe.
