The tree outside my window is again momentarily full of delightful flashing, moving colours of the Red Rump Finches, the Willy Wagtails, and the bright Rosellas all playfully chatting among the yellow glory of the autumn leaves and I recall having seen the Red Robin there when the snow is on the mountains. Such brief moments, moments that cause me to take a breath and hold it, moments that I call pauses with God. These pauses are all around us. God moments that take away our breath and leave us with a sense of knowing, of having connected, of having experienced something deep. Mary Oliver puts it this way after she had seen a flock of Snow Geese flying overhead: I held my breath, as we do sometimes to stop time when something wonderful has touched us. She goes on later in her poem to say: Maybe I will see them again one day, somewhere, maybe I wont. It doesn't matter. What matters is that, when I saw them, I saw them as through the veil, secretly, joyfully, clearly.
Grace and peace be with you.
Anne, servant of the Lord.
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| An Echidna passing by my door step. |
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