Back in September, “The Voice” began asking its readers for their “Faith Memories” of 2004. Sadly, despite several priests telling the editor what a good exercise it could be to carry out at Mass, we have had very few replies. But those we have had are well worth reading and thinking about. Rich and varied experiences that remind us that God does indeed move in “mysterious ways.” Perhaps next year we may have a better response.

From George Chapman of Brampton
Born in 1937. Catholic Family, Dockside Parish and school in Sunderland. After RAF travelled Europe as an Ornamental Plasterer. Lived in Kent. Married in Tottenham, lived in York. Towards the end of 2003 and at the start of 2004 had seizures and was examine for cancerous tumour in stomach. Removed successfully. Then collapsed in street and split my head open. Discovered that I now have epilepsy. Faith as strong as ever with cancer defeated. In the 1980’s travelling sometimes made me miss Mass; not any more.

From Elizabeth Wynne in Blackpool
My Labrador Bitch had puppies and when they were just four weeks old, they all trotted outside at my command to do their business. I thought, “Isn’t God in his creation? Here are four week old puppies understanding my language.

From Ann Mallinson in Blackpool
We had two funerals recently and they both moved me in different ways. One was former soldier and when they played the Last Post, with the young man standing there absolutely immaculate in his uniform, it was beautiful. The other funeral was for a young teacher at our school. The church was full of course, but although it was a sad occasion it was also joyous. The children sang the last hymn in two parts. “I watch the sunrise” moved us all to tears.

From “Anonymous” in Blackpool
My late husband and I often listened to “Your hundred best tunes” together. I have been doing so again recently. I find it nostalgic of course but also very spiritual. There is the awareness of a special presence in my life.

From Margaret Bogan in Blackpool
I was living at home looking after my 97 year old mother. She complained that I was always busy. “Why don’t you just sit down, and be still?” One particular day, I did so, just to please her. It was 1.30 pm. My sister was upstairs recovering from an illness. The house was very still. When I next looked at the clock it was 4.00 pm. It was still very quiet. I looked at my Mum who seemed to be smiling. I remarked on the atmosphere, and she nodded. Then I turned round and said, “something has happened” and she nodded again. When I went upstairs to see my sister, she asked too, what had happened, everything was so very quiet, even the traffic had stopped. Later that night I heard my mother’s bed shaking, a rigour, the beginning of the end. It went on for another three weeks. In the months that followed her death, I realised that we had experienced something very special together; our own time before the end of her life. I remembered how the Holy Spirit works, “Grant that we may be truly wise and ever rejoice in his consolation.” I have never felt sad since then but always rejoice in his consolation.