The heavens and the earth provide us, from time to time, reminders of our finiteness, that our lives are a small space on an endless spectrum of history. Especially is this true as one traces the steps of the Celtic saints, whose living, vibrant faith still speaks in the granite ruins that have withstood the centuries of war and weather.
We see in these rugged holy places that we owe far more than we can know to the great men and women of the past. We are profoundly stirred with the call to live, in these days of constant motion and frenzied activity, in such a way that something of an enduring, time-tested, eternal worth is left as an inheritance for the future generations; that we will not have forgotten what it is to be still, and to commune with the Maker of heaven and earth, to know His voice in the winds, and on the waves, to know His fragrance in the freshness of cool grasses and the mists of early morning. For these are the quiet ancient paths that have all but disappeared in the clamor and press, and if we turn aside for even a few moments, do not our hearts so strongly sense the whisper of their call!
