Monday, 9 June 2014


To be overtrusting and unworldly with a natural or unaffected simplicity is something prized and protected in the very young.  Maybe that's why we gravitate towards these unspoiled new people who can look deep into our souls with the wisdom of ages in their eyes and still find it in their tender hearts to forgive us.

Yesterday this child's mother sang him an Irish lullaby with two uninvited female voices joining in the chorus.  His mother's voice, so sweet and gentle as she rocked her babe, unashamedly betrayed the nakedness of her love.  Our chorus could only hope to follow the pure tones she set, and little wonder as her own mother used to sing with the Bach choir and she herself sang for il papa twice in the Vatican. Nevertheless we gave what we had spontaneously and generously, and she was generous in return.

For us, the simple little ditty that called to us to join in drew on the core of our own trust and unworldliness.  Activity halted throughout the house as various people stopped what they were doing to listen, to experience.  Thereafter the pace of movement was altered, each one more gentle with the other, changed by the sublimity of the moment. 

As this little boy wanders through his life I wonder if he'll ever give the world to hear his mother sing that song to him again.