Saturday, February 18, 2017


The Carolina Jessamine is now in full bright yellow bloom on the fence at the back of the house.I see it each morning from the window of this room, which is my own. Although I relish the bare, spare trees of winter,  to see some color is pleasing. I read somewhere that when women turn 40, they start to wear muted greys, browns and blacks. Why, who knows. Perhaps an unconscious mourning for the end of childbearing? I am determined to add color to my life. Everyday, I am going to look for color and celebrate it.

This came to mind as I read today's meditation from Thomas Merton. He mentions that when he closed his eyes on this winter day in 1952 , he saw purple and blue fish swimming in his mind. He seems to delight in what comes when his eyes are closed. Mostly, when my eyes are closed, I may see some white or shapes but there was a day in church when I saw something else. I can tell you exactly where in the congregation this happened. Six rows from the back on the right side. I was kneeling with my eyes closed and I saw her face. It was round, plain, with eyes closed.That is what I saw. I opened my eyes not believing what had had happened and then closed them again.There she was. My first thought was to stay there with my Mother, Mary, and visit. It did seem just like a visit where a chat or a hug would have be appropriate. But then, it was time to stand up and knowing that if I kept kneeling I would be questioned, I stood, and she was gone.

Why did this plain faced, closed eyed being appear ? I didn't have time to ask but over the months, impressions have come .I hope I am following her urgings in a faithful manner.They are not new nor are they always easy.I would like to think of them as colors. Prayers said in the bright yellow of a sunny day as I walk in the tree shelter of deep brown and grey woods. Small sacrifices that I see as an empty white coffee cup. Believing that I am loved by the Creator; this feels like a warm pink and orange shawl thrown around my body. And trust; that all shall be well, all manner of things shall be well. This knowing is fluffy white, the color of falling snow, the lightness of angel's wings, the soft white of a peony that has sweet streaks of red. This trust is not my usual first thought in a crisis but perhaps if I recall its color, I will fall into its warm arms right away. Mary Queen of the Angels, pray for us.

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