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I came across this beautiful video of an excellent rendition of the “Little Drummer Boy” on Facebook with the status written thereby: “Heaven is sometimes hidden in human voices.” How true!!! I read many years ago, (or did I hear it from a priest or a nun?) that highly spiritual people are musically minded and have wonderful voices. I was tickled to the bones because I am both of those things: musically minded and with a wonderful voice, modesty aside (please forgive the bragging part). It’s truly a grace when all of a sudden, our hearts can open and burst into one big, heartfelt, soulful song of gratitude to God for making us as we are. I am far from perfect. In fact, I have lots of “unpolished edges”, so to speak. But when I hear human voices soar into a song, (or even hear myself singing), I feel like I’m transformed into an angel just by being one with the melody and the voice. In heaven, we will forever sing to God our praise, love and adoration for Him. Maybe that’s why the human singing voice could transport us to unimaginable heavenly heights because singing praise to God will be our eternal activity in heaven.

“Eye Has Not Seen Nor Ear Heard”

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“The glamor of faces,
“the illusion of brawn,
“empty promises,
“hollow visions.
“Walk away and turn,
“and know the comfort
“and the safety of My Heart.
“See My Beauty,
“Learn My Truth.”

Lead me to Your Heart,
that I may feel Your comfort,
and see Your Beauty, and learn Your Truth.
My eyes long to rest on Your Face.
I paint You on the canvass of my heart,
its stirrings, an impetus to every stroke.
In my mind, I plumb the depths of You.
And I sigh,
With You, never again will a tear fall.
Only in Heaven will I know,
Even as I am known.
Can anyone be as beautiful as You?

(By Teresita Carigma Palos)

“The Mountain Jonquil”

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(I first saw the mountain jonquil described in the book “Francis, the Journey and the Dream” by Fr. Murray Bodo, OFM. Fr. Bodo wrote that St. Francis was once gazing at the breathtaking panorama of Assisi and the valley of Spoleto when he looked down and saw a tiny mountain jonquil. St. Francis all at once forgot the majesty of the mountains and the valleys and concentrated on the tiny flower which looked so delicate and trembling in the mountain wind, with its life so brief and vulnerable, but glorifying God by simply being what it was. Then I thought, “I am like the tiny mountain jonquil. Frail, delicate, with life that could be snuffed out in an instant. I cannot claim to be more than what I am. Maybe, knowing and accepting yourself deep down is the basic relationship of a creature to its Creator.” This tiny mountain jonquil inspired me to write this prose.

“The Mountain Jonquil”
(by Teresita Carigma Palos)

The mountain jonquil
Celebrating the dance of life aloft,
Bestowing kisses on the sky.
Resplendent is the tapestry surrounding it,
Of varying forms and hues.
Whilst that tiny flower,
ever so tiny, so simple,
almost unnoticeable
in the midst of more conspicuous beauties.
There it stands proud and vain,
Glorifying the awesome majesty of its Maker,
Witnessing to His nonpareil creativity.
With gaze probing beyond the infinite horizon.
Its minute stature
Effervescent with sunshine and laughter,
Mindless of its trembling and delicate existence.
Preoccupied in just simply being,
And by so being, fulfilling its destiny.