The Sign of Children


Many spiritual undertones are concealed in little things.

~ Entry 112, Divine Mercy in My Soul, St. Maria Faustina Kowalska.

          This has been the lesson over the past few days. Taught over and over, yet differently each time, it feels as if all of heaven has suddenly come together to impress upon me the signs of the times, the signs for the way forward and the signs of the things to stay away from. From near absolute stillness, there has begun now a sort of insistence, gentle yet with power, telling me that the signs are in the little things. That even as the world shouts and attempts to influence us about events and threats and all manner of future events, God wants my eyes on the little things because that is where the signs will be concealed.

In things which lie underfoot, hidden, obscured among the brambles and chaos of distraction and human insistence.

          The first sign came through one of the two most trusted people in my life. I had sought their holy discernment of a dream I had on the morn of Sept 14th, Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross. Instead, they hurried to give me their thoughts, as they themselves made clear. For such a holy and devout couple usually given to prayerful consideration of everything, all of a sudden, their personal perspective took centre stage. The result was a body hit that that left me reeling, the tumult of old fears once again attaching themselves to me with glee.

          Still, I resisted my own intuition. I’ve been wrong about things many, many times before. I could be wrong this time as well. And so, even as my entire spirit rose in rebellion, I probed the waters gingerly, seeking a sign that said I was wrong and they were right.

          It took many hours of pondering and prayer. But I refused to yield to hurt, instead going deep into the heart of my family, the Heart of God in man. There, from its deepest, most pure confines, I saw it. It was the littlest of signs, hidden among the other things that were said. The sign told me to heed the cry of my spirit – and not insistence that was blinded by human frailty – even if it came from people I had always trusted, even if it came from elders of the church.

And the sign was of children.

I was told by the people I trusted that my hands would not be sanctified until I ministered to those in the dark even at the cost of endangering my children.

          What sounded the trumpet was that God has taught me many times that my children must be my life. And I have learned some hard lessons when I chose to turn away for a while; in fact, anything that has taken me away from my children has not worked out well. Hence, now, while I will not withhold them from sufferings that strengthen and purify, I will fight anyone who tells me I must put my heart’s loves in danger – supposedly in the name of God.

          That was why heaven screamed its warning through the events of the weekend. Because, in effect, I was told I had to put my children in harm’s way so that “the Light” could be shone into dark lives.

          Once the truth seized me, I gently made clear my stand, then turned away. It is sad when truth comes to us this way, more so when it involves family. But when we give our lives to God, earthly pillars are bound to crumble and fall. Some of those we trust and respect might fall before our very eyes. Some might reveal to us their hearts. It is a pain I must learn to face and bear, for I know it is in exchange of something far, far greater – complete trust in God and in God alone.

          And so, I left the tumult of the weekend, to come into the new week. Give me a sign. A sign as high as the skies, I had prayed many times. And so, it began. The stream of signs didn’t end with the weekend revelation. One after the other, they came, tiny, tiny ones, gently and in quiet order.

          Like a little child shyly pushing his play blocks towards me, seeking only my eyes and my love.



  1. Good for you! I took me a long time to learn to trust my own instincts over the voices, however reasonable they sounded, of other people. And I’ve come to believe that my “instincts” are really the voice of God, gently directing me in the right way.

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  2. I so agree with Ann’s comment above. Our own first instincts are usually right. So many times, other people try to sway us or muddle the mix, often in an attempt to help us, believing that they know better what is ‘best for us’. Ultimately, with prayer and listening to our own hearts, do we ever find our way. It is God who always knows us best, and when we listen and pray, He speaks to us and guides us.

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    1. I think we often get confused because we know there’s always the possibility that God could be speaking through others. Hence, if we ignored these other voices, were we ignoring God? I looked back on my life in reflection and I saw now what I didn’t many times before – many times before when people advised me or admonished me, I failed to take it all to Jesus. I might have gotten upset or stewed about it but in the end, everything stayed with me and was not surrendered to God. And that was why I was often pressured into following these other voices.
      As I write this, I am heartily glad that we have a God we can always turn to, as you said, to find our way which in effect, is God’s way.

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      1. When I was a young girl, I would often go to my dad and ask his advice on difficult decisions. He would always tell me to ‘pray about it’. He never told me what choice I should make. I had to make the decision on my own. Years later, I ponder the wisdom of his advice. Ultimately, we must ponder life’s questions on an individual basis with God. We can talk to other people and get ideas. And we can think on all of those ideas. Still, in the end, the decisions remain our own. I have found that many people think they have all the right answers to someone else’s problems. Nothing could be further from the truth. We must solve our own issues and live by our own ‘lights’. And it is God who brings that light to us and helps us find our way.

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      2. True wisdom!
        A wise father is a blessing. Your father didn’t try to take God’s place and give you the answers all the time. I had to chuckle at your observation of how some people have all the answers for others. But yes, I agree that ultimately, we make our own way by holding God’s hand.

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  3. The little things … yes. Over the last few years I found that as things out in the world got bigger and messier and louder, my focus went smaller and quieter. Noticing the softness of a daisy petal, hearing the call of a finch … It was the little things that turned my heart towards gratefulness to my heavenly Father who sees and knows it all. If He takes such care with these little things, how could He not handle the big things too?

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