“Dawn finds me waiting…” from the Psalms
I ask my good friend, the one who saw the Blessed Mother one night a few weeks ago, how it feels to know what we know. After all, we are not nuns or contemplatives. We are real women with real insecurities, flaws, temptations, histories. In this world of cold practicality, miracles and supernatural signs seem out of place.
And yet, when I wake from a strange dream, the smell of roses once again. In this time of inner turmoil,of heartache, of exile, something I cannot explain or understand has begun. I am being comforted and nurtured.