OF YOU MY HEART HAS SPOKEN

Abba by Yongsung Kim. Jesus holding and caring for a baby There is a silence That cries  A hidden cry that goes Unheard A life that goes unseen Thirteen thousand Taken here Ten million Taken there We take no notice We do not see We do not feel We do not care

  “Abundance follows in His steps!” (Morning Prayer) I was drying my right foot this first morning - November 23, 2021, feast of St. Columbanus - when time seemed to freeze and doubt arrived, clear as a bell. “What are you doing here?” it asked, “Why come all this way, when you already have everything you need at home?” It’s what happens early on in any pilgrimage. Questions arise, valid ones and those that come as temptations to discouragement. I dismissed the doubt as quickly as it came but there are questions about this place that remain unanswered and, perhaps they are unanswerable. In Medjugorje we are dealing with the transcendent. It is a place where the veil between heaven and earth is very thin. Heaven breaks into to earth here in a way that doesn’t happen too often in the world and it defies logic and reason.

A campfire in the Sahara Desert, beneath the canopy of a pristine night sky, brilliant moon. The Berber men are showing us how they bake bread in the sand. We break fresh bread, drink Moroccan tea, some of the group sitting, some of us standing in the glow of flame. Ahmed, the chief camel herdsman, sends one of the priests to say he wants me to come and sit beside him on the sand and when I take my place, he puts his arm around my shoulder, drawing me into himself. A tender and intimate moment of reverence. Throughout this journey he has had a profound respect for my age. Like everything in life this is not just a physical and emotional human connection; it also has a spiritual and divine dimension. It’s as if God Himself has invited me to sit beside him, that He has chosen me for this. We all like to be chosen, to be picked out for closeness to another at all levels of our nature.

The islands rise on the horizon, emerging through the mist. A young boy rests his head on the ship's railing, as I did in childhood, gazing down upon the foaming sea, waving at dolphins in the distance.  Memory of travelling to Aran in August. Memory of the past and the meaning that came to me through Aran and the sea. I'm looking for clarity now, waiting for mist to clear, not in an anxious way but as a child who knows how to wait and trust and ponder. "strange islands, the roaring torrents, whisper of the amorous gales, tranquil night, the approaches of the dawn and silent music" (St. John of the Cross)

When it comes as a surprise it’s extra special – coming face to face with the moon while it sits low and large on the horizon.   You find yourself saying “Oh my God” out loud. A prayer of praise - for this deep yellow moon and the pink moon of a few nights ago. Moon upon the calm sea. No photograph will ever do it justice.

  To You my Lord I come In Adoration Beneath the world-mothering Mantle of Mary Asking Your morning Blessing upon Mothers filled with purpose Parents and guardians Coming back from delivering Children to school I pray for every child And each member of staff May Your Grace descend

I feel September In my bones