A voiceless voice

My morning began with consuming thoughts of my mom. All Souls Day 2014.Piggybacking All Saints Day, I found myself most grateful this weekend.
Saint Ignatius and my mom, two compasses guiding me on my spiritual journey.


The afterlife has always been a black hole for me. A tough concept to say the least . Reflecting back on the last 4 weeks of the Spiritual Exercises, Saint Ignatius is sharing with us all the work God is putting into our friendship. We are reminded of His unconditional love and the variety of all His creations. I began to ask myself today, ” after this investment and sacrifice, would God forget about us when we die”? In today’s first reading, Wisdom3:1-9 one line captured my attention, “But they are in peace”. That statement put me at ease. The emotion that came next is what I think Ignatius was referring to as ” interior movements”. Those feelings, desires, emotions during prayer.

Fr John Foley recently shared Rabindranath Tagure’s poem#71 from the Crossing collection.

I remember my childhood when the sunrise,
like my play-fellow,
would burst in to my bedside
with its daily surprise of morning;
when the faith in the marvelous bloomed
like fresh flowers in my heart every day,
looking into the face of the world
in simple gladness;
when insects, birds and beasts,
the common weeds,
grass and the clouds
had their fullest value of wonder;
when the patter of rain at night brought
dreams from the fairyland,
and mother’s voice in the evening
gave meaning to the stars.

And then I think of death,
and the rise of the curtain and the new morning
and my life awakened
in its fresh surprise of love.

I feel a bit more optimistic today that the afterlife is real. The final 4 lines in Tagure’s poem are powerful. I have always enjoyed surprises.

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