One of my mother's most amazing characteristics is the way she has always valued and created beauty, even at a time in her life when such valuing seemed to threaten survival. In this, I know my mother to be the image of God. Not only has God created all things beautiful from nothing; this is no more than we would expect. In those country barns, my mother recognized broken pieces of furniture for what they were and she paid for their re-creation by going hungry. In the same way, God as our mother recognizes the beauty within all the broken and discarded parts of ourselves ...
Our awareness of God is a syntax or the silence in which our souls mingle with the divine, in which the ineffable in us communes with the ineffable beyond us. It is the afterglow of years in which soul and sky are silent together, the outgrowth of accumulated certainty of the abundant, never-ending presence of the divine. All we need to do is to let the insight be and to listen to the soul's recessed certainty of its being a parenthesis in the immense script of God's eternal speech.