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  “I love that,” I said, goose bumps forming up and down my arms. “When you put it that way, it sounds as if God began talking to us even before we were born.”

  “Oh, he did indeed.” Margaret smiled knowingly. “Listen to what God told the prophet Jeremiah when he called him into service: ‘Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, and before you were born I consecrated you; I appointed you a prophet to the nations.’ ”

  Margaret’s eyes gleamed as she watched amazement creep across my face as I absorbed these words and the truth behind them.

  She continued. “Jennifer, when you sensed that you came from somewhere else, you were correct. During this time of awakening in your young life, your soul continued to hear echoes of God’s voice as he called to you from across the veil of the heavenly realm. And this is what he was saying:

  “Remember my whisper. You have been mine from the beginning.”

  Then my angel friend stood and gracefully brushed the folds from her gown. “Let’s take a break for a moment. I want to pour myself another cup of coffee, and I will bring one for you, too. While you wait, sit here and let your precious soul reconnect with God’s whisper. I’ll be right back!”

  Heart’s Delight

  Be still and know that I am God.

  PSALM 46:10

  Margaret placed our coffees on the table and then wandered over to look at my rose and herb gardens. I remained seated, closed my eyes, and tilted my face to the warm sun, willing my senses to absorb whatever this blessed morning had to offer . . . the trickle of the pool waterfall . . . the occasional cries of glee from the trampolining children . . . the gentle tinkle of wind chimes in the breeze. A blooming sweet almond tree scented the air with its thick perfume. Moments like this are so precious, kind of like a spa moment for the soul.

  After several minutes Margaret rejoined me at the table. “Your garden smells wonderful,” she exclaimed. “Especially the rosemary.”

  “Oh, rosemary is one of my favorite herbs,” I replied. “It gives me such pleasure to snip it fresh from the garden to add to whatever I’m cooking. And after it rains the fragrance of the rosemary is heavenly.”

  “Mmm.” Margaret nodded. “Our Lord gives us such special little gifts every day, gifts for all of the senses.” She bent down, picked a sprig of rosemary, and rubbed it between her fingers, releasing its pungent aroma into the air around us.

  “This brings me to my next question for you, Jenn. Earlier, you described to me how, as a young child, you sensed the presence of God. Now I want you to tell me how you experienced his presence. This is important because your connection to God goes back to the days and experiences of your childhood in ways you may have been completely unaware. You may need to take a few minutes to think about this.”

  She was right. I sat with my eyes closed and returned to the days of my youth. Despite some hardships, I’d had such a wonderful childhood, with so many varied experiences. How was I going to find the ones Margaret was referring to? Then a thought came to me. When did I experience a quickening in my heart, a stirring in my soul that I could feel?

  Amazingly, one by one, the memories tumbled in. “Hmmm,” I began thoughtfully, “I think the first way I remember experiencing God’s presence was while I was being still—a very hard thing for a busy, talkative little girl to be.”

  Margaret snickered and covered her mouth quickly with her hands, nodding for me to keep going. Okay, I admit, talkative was probably an understatement—and still is!

  “As a young girl, I experienced God’s presence whenever I felt an unbidden stirring of my heart. For instance, I experienced sensations of holiness as I gazed up at the stained glass window in church of Jesus kneeling in prayer. And I felt timeless as I lay on the sand and looked up at the night sky filled with stars over Lake Michigan . . . and wonder, as I sat in rapt attention listening to a Christmas Eve story about a donkey and other stable animals who knelt at Mary’s feet the moment Jesus was born . . . and calm, as I put my toes in the water as it lapped softly on the sandy shore of Lake Erie . . . and contentment, as I witnessed the love my parents had for each other . . . and beauty, as I closed my eyes and immersed myself in the sounds and music of the cello . . . and love, as I arrived home from school and was met at the door by the smell of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies . . . and peace, as I walked alone on a frigid, moonlit night, snow crunching under my boots and stars twinkling above, bright and clear . . . and anticipation, as I awakened on Easter Sunday morning . . . and delight, as our caroling group quietly gathered to sing ‘Silent Night’ at an unsuspecting neighbor’s door while candle wax melted all over my mittens . . . and awe, as I stood on the shore of the ocean, water stretching as far as the eye could see . . . and joy, witnessing a rainbow. Each of these experiences, Margaret, involved the use of one or more of my senses and, for the most part, occurred while I was being quiet or still.”

  “You are right, dear one,” Margaret affirmed. “The easiest place to find God is in the quiet. It is where you can experience him with all of your senses, since they are not occupied by other things.

  “I believe there is another powerful way you have experienced God as a young girl and throughout your life—am I correct?” she hinted.

  I nodded slowly and placed my hands over my heart.

  “Music,” I breathed. “Music is and always has been one of the primary ways I experience God’s presence. Through the beauty of an orchestra, the words of a hymn, the blend of choral voices, the majesty of a pipe organ . . . the list could go on and on.”

  Then Margaret asked me something I’d never considered. “Have you ever thought about why and how human beings came up with the idea of music?”

  “Well, no, I haven’t,” I said “But now that you mention it, it seems that from the beginning of time, we have somehow found ways to create lovely, meaningful sounds, music, to express our emotions, to celebrate, to mourn.”

  “Yes, child,” Margaret affirmed. “So couldn’t it be possible that your souls have already experienced the music of heaven, and as human beings you are constantly trying to re-create what your souls remember—the glorious praise music of heaven’s angels?” Her eyes sparkled as she watched my reaction.

  Oh, what an intriguing thought! Another reminder of the reality of our heavenly origin.

  Margaret positively quivered in her seat, and I knew this was a subject very dear to her own heart. “Music is deeply tied to the human emotions, Jenn, and you became aware of this at an early age on a snowy winter evening. Do you remember?”

  “I do,” I replied wistfully. “It is one of my most cherished memories. I sat on my daddy’s lap by the fire on that snowy winter evening, listening to one of his favorite operas, La Bohème. It was early in my childhood. I could not have been more than six years old, and it was the first time I remember hearing opera. It was so intensely beautiful. As Daddy told me the story of Mimi, her love story, and her eventual tragic death from tuberculosis, I vividly remember being filled with so many emotions as the music and story unfolded. Tears streamed down my cheeks as Mimi drew her last breath, and the love of her life cried out for her. My young soul was flooded with feelings way beyond my years, emotions of love and tenderness I did not yet understand, yet they were real. It astounded me I could be so moved by music.”

  I paused for a moment as I heard a soft sigh. I looked at Margaret, and a small tear was running down her cheek. She remembered this precious evening just as fondly as I did.

  “I have read about and heard testimonies from people who claim to have heard exquisite music during near-death experiences. Do you suppose that they were really hearing the music of heaven’s angels?” I asked, thinking, Who better to ask than an angel?

  “Let’s see what the scriptures tell us about this,” my angel friend answered. “In the second chapter of Luke, shepherds heard the voices of a huge angelic choir singing God’s praises the night Christ was born. Can you imagine the awe they experienced on the hillside that
night? Then, in the Book of Revelation, the apostle John vividly describes his visions of the music of heaven. In chapter fifteen, verses two to three, he sees believers holding harps and singing, and in chapter five, verse thirteen, he hears all creatures in heaven and earth singing praises to the glory of God.

  “Nothing on earth can compare to the music of heaven, but humankind has found beautiful ways to capture the soul’s remembrance and apply it to the expression of human emotion. Think about it, dear girl. The sounds of some instruments evoke subdued emotions while others evoke uplifting emotions. Musicians, those who compose and perform, have been gifted with a talent that enables humans to experience the closest approximation to the music of heaven this side of the veil.”

  “Yes, I understand, Margaret,” I replied. “It is like when I listen to the music of the cello . . . there is a mournful beauty about it that stirs my very soul. Sometimes it even makes me weep. It is hard to fathom that music can be even more beautiful than what we experience here on earth.”

  Margaret rose from her chair, finding it hard to contain her enthusiasm for this subject. “The music of heaven is glorious. One day you will hear the music again with heavenly ears—and it will make you want to shout for joy. Oh, what a precious gift our Lord has given his children to carry with them to this world from the realm of heaven!”

  Her face radiant, my angel raised her arms and with her ethereal voice she began to sing a psalm of praise.

  “Shout for joy to the Lord, all the earth, burst into jubilant song with music; make music to the Lord with the harp, with the harp and the sound of singing!”

  Overcome with emotion as she finished, I could only whisper “Amen.”

  Margaret returned to her chair and we sat in silence for several minutes until both of us could get our emotions in check. My thoughts lingered on the joyful words my angel had just sung. She clearly had experienced an act of worship in that moment. Slowly, a new truth began to dawn about the music of praise and why I experience the presence of God when I sing.

  “You know,” I said quietly, “earlier, when you were telling me about the true origin of music, you suggested that our souls remembered the glorious praise music of heaven. I believe, Margaret, that in addition to remembering the music, our souls also remember the worship of heaven, and that the actions of praise and worship are intimately and Divinely connected. Something holy happens when I sing hymns and anthems at church . . . songs that are filled with the scriptures. It’s as if, for a moment, the veil between heaven and earth is lifted and we truly are caught up with the host of heaven in the glorious music of praise. In that moment I am no longer just singing . . . I am worshipping, immersed in the presence of God. It is an intensely joyful sensation that I physically can feel.”

  My angel nodded and looked at me with such tenderness that my eyes began to fill with tears. “Jenn, when we make music . . . when we lift our voices to the Lord . . . a powerful exchange occurs. Our precious voices fill God’s heart with joy, and in return, he raises his beautiful voice and covers us with his song of Divine love. Zephaniah chapter three, verse seventeen, tells us that God rejoices over you with gladness, quiets you with his love, and exults over you with singing. It is a holy moment indeed when your spirit encounters the song of God! The intense sensation of joy you experience as your Creator sings to you is caused by an anointing of his Divine love. This is a wonderful example of how deep and marvelous your God-given senses truly are. Think back to how you described what you felt upon hearing music, seeing a rainbow, or feeling the snow crunch under your feet. The emotions your senses elicited were love, joy, and peace. These, dear child, are outpourings of the Spirit living within you. Your physical senses activate your spiritual senses, and that is how you are able to experience God.”

  Margaret paused to let this sink in. It was a concept I had never before considered and it was stunning in its simple truth. After a few moments she continued. “Listen now, sweet girl, to what God was singing to you as you experienced his presence with all of your senses during your childhood:

  “I am here, dear one, in everything that is beautiful to you. Look for me in all that you love.”

  Lord, Hear My Prayer

  Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

  PHILIPPIANS 4:4–7

  My normal morning routine included a fair amount of exercise, and this morning’s events had blown “normal” right out the window. Our conversation in the garden had been so riveting, I had not noticed my lack of activity until I shifted in my chair and felt a twinge of stiffness. I rose and moved to the edge of the patio, indulging in a long, luxurious stretch, and oh, it felt good! I looked through my fingertips as they reached toward the sky and marveled at the view. The sky was a pristine, cerulean blue, and the green leaves of the trees glistened with a silver reflection of the brilliant sun.

  I had come to think of these trees as my gentle giants, reaching their branches high up into the sky. As a breeze rustled through the treetops, these giants swayed gently back and forth, and I was moved by how they looked as if they were raising their great arms in prayer. Their movements made a whispering sound, like the exhalation of a long, soft sigh. I wondered what prayers or praises they were offering to their Creator. Maybe they were thanking God for another day of life in this beautiful world.

  Margaret joined me and matched the direction of her gaze with mine. “Wonderful, isn’t it? Even these great trees joyfully communicate with their Maker.”

  I looked at her sharply. She seemed to know what I had been thinking!

  Margaret laughed. “All of creation speaks to God. And you, child, are no exception. As you have just described, you sensed God’s presence and experienced his presence as a young girl. And as I watched you grow up, I was overjoyed to observe you seek God in a new way. You began to speak to him.”

  “I did,” I agreed. “It wasn’t easy at first, but then I found someone who helped me.”

  Margaret smiled and held out both hands to me. “Before you tell me about that part of your life, would you join hands with me for a quick prayer?”

  I nodded and took her hands in mine. I closed my eyes and waited for her to begin. The breeze swirled playfully around us, and again I detected the faint scent of roses.

  In her clear voice, Margaret prayed, “God, come close. Come quickly! Open your ears—it’s my voice you’re hearing! Treat my prayer as sweet incense rising; my raised hands are my evening prayers.”

  “Oh, that was beautiful,” I exclaimed, touched by these sweet words.

  “It is beautiful, Jenn. It is the beginning of The Message’s translation of Psalm one hundred forty one, a prayer written by our beloved King David. I thought it fitting for this next part of your story, which I want to hear about as soon as we sit back down.”

  I thought to myself, I wonder if Margaret knows King David? I can only imagine how amazing it would be to sit at his feet and listen to his wonderful prayers.

  As soon as we settled into our chairs, Margaret spoke. “So tell me, Jennifer, about how you began to speak to your Creator. I watched this all unfold, but I want to hear the story from your perspective.”

  I grinned and began to tell my friend about how I began to speak to God. This was a story I loved to tell.

  “I have always been a voracious reader, and one day in my early teens, I stumbled upon a magazine article written by the Reverend Billy Graham about prayer. His article talked about how important prayer is in the lives of God’s people, and he said that prayer needs to be an ongoing dialogue between you and God. I was riveted by this statement. Prayer was something I did before going to bed, and my prayers were not very personal or sophisticated. They pretty much consisted
of ‘Now I lay me down to sleep’ with a few thank-yous and blessings mixed in. And, admittedly, many nights I just plain forgot to say my prayers.

  “As I read, I thought to myself: An ongoing dialogue? Would God listen to me if I talked to him during the day? ”

  I paused for a moment and gazed at Margaret. She was nodding her head, trying very hard not to say a word.

  “Reverend Graham’s article really bothered me because I felt that maybe God wanted me to be communicating with him more, and I was not doing what he wanted. And I could not pray in the beautiful prayer language our minister used in church. My prayers sounded childlike compared to his. How could I talk with God, the Creator of the universe, the great I AM, without being able to use the grown-up, flowery language of prayer I was used to hearing? After contemplating this for a day or so, I got out pen and paper and proceeded to write a letter to Reverend Graham.

  “My letter was very straightforward. I asked Reverend Graham how to pray so that God would listen to me. I mailed my letter with a great sense of anticipation, and then I waited . . . and waited.

  “Time passed, and I completely forgot about my letter. My teenage girl mind was otherwise occupied by boys and the music heartthrobs David Cassidy, Donny Osmond, and Bobby Sherman. Then one day my mother entered my bedroom with a rather amazed look on her face. She held up an envelope and said, ‘Jennifer, you have a letter from Billy Graham!’

  “Wow! I did indeed have a response from Reverend Graham. He thanked me for my letter and for my thoughtful question. In his response he explained that prayer was something everyone could do, children and adults alike. ‘All you have to do,’ he wrote, ‘is to talk to God like he is your friend. Just tell him whatever is in your heart. Don’t worry about using fancy words. He loves you and wants to hear from you.’ I asked myself, Could it really be that simple?