Thoughts for the Feast of the Conception

On the Feast day of Mary, conceived so pure and beautiful, I think of how the Holy Spirit overshadowed her and the Son of God was conceived in the spotless tabernacle of her body, I think of this:

   Now, a mighty wind is blowing;

   It sweeps up the street;

   It ruffles and strains the blades of grass;

   It twists the boughs of trees as though in agony;

   It bends the trees to the ground and they kneel in prayer.

   It is outside my window, this mighty wind, and swoops right into my presence and touches my heart with astonishing gentleness; like the soft tip of a finger.

   In my heart is a great stillness, except for a low humming ...

   A voice singing in a whisper ... softly … softly ... Pianissimo — it is sensed rather than heard.

   It is PEACE — at rest in my heart.