On this rainy and interior day, as I write letters about Mummy, I feel her presence so strongly. Just now, I can feel her sending her love to me. Suddenly, I see and feel her standing there, just a couple yards in front of me by the window, looking younger, and yet every age and no age. She's all in white, radiating light, smiling her smile, and love is pouring out of her eyes onto me, covering me. Ifeel my heart pounding, a ringing in my ears. I find it hard to breathe. It is overwhelming ... I know now she'll always be with me and, though it makes me sad to think I can't be with her in person anymore, I know I'll never not be with her again.
To pray is to regain a sense of the mystery that animates all beings, the Divine margin in all attainments. Prayer is our humble answer to the inconceivable surprise of living. It is all we can offer in return for the mystery by which we live... It is so embarrassing to live. How strange we are in the world and how presumptuous our doings. Only one response can maintain us: Gratefulness for witnessing the wonder: for the gift of our unearned right to live, to adore, to fulfill. It is gratefulness which makes the soul great.