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It was a silky, milky
Scene this past Sunday
Beyond the lake bluff.

The horizon had been erased,

Reminding me of the day
That had reminded me of
The first of the last seven days of my mother’s life.

There had been no divide
Between water and
Sky, heaven and
Earth, the
Father and Son, the
Son and me, my mother and me, on that day either.

It was as if a white quilt of grace had been tossed
Down, bending into earth
From heaven, blending
Death into life
For me to see and
Take note.

We are one, my mother and I,
As I am one with God.

Beyond the silky veil
Of timelessness, where
Our eyes are unscaled to see
The Unseen,
Heaven exists.

Where eyes can see and hear and say, God is
Always nearer
Than we think.

The silky day years ago had been a Milky memorial
Morning then, too.
The rain had been
Falling throughout
The early hours. I had
Spent more time than
I’d planned, praying.
I had to throw on jeans,
A T and a black jacket,
Grab my backpack,
And jump on my bike
To get to work on time.

More and more, there
Had been no divide.
The more I consumed
Of God’s Love, the less
I wanted of anything
Else. It showed up
Everywhere, in
Everything and everyone
All throughout the day
And night.

I became content






That morning, the sky
Had connected itself
To the water. There was
No divide. There was
No sign of the sun,
But it was there, everywhere.

There was not
A shimmer
Of a reflection on the
Water. Like I said,

It was a silky, milky,
Misty kind of morning.

But then suddenly, as if my thoughts
Had brought the scene about,
Three lights appeared
On the water,

Twinkling like stars,

Reminding me of the words

My mother had read
That morning, the first of her last seven days—

“I am with you,
I am with you,
I am with you.
Heaven’s bells continually
Peal with that promise
Of My Presence.”

As if I were being asked,
“Can you hear them?”

I nodded.

Pay attention.
Open your eyes, be a witness
To things beyond your
Imagination. At
Unexpected times,
In unexpected ways,
God is speaking.

My ears were opened.
That day, I heard then

When you think you
Can’t hear God, see deeper.

When you think you can’t see God, listen more.

We are one.

My mother and
I are still one.

*October 30, “Jesus Calling,” Sarah Young

The Devotional my mom was reading at that time, which many of us then read. My dad gave us each a copy the Christmas after her passing. It kept her close.

My prayers this morning are with all who are hurting over loved ones lost to war and affliction.

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