It is said that the Christian mystic Theresa of Avila found difficulty at first in reconciling the vastness of the life of the spirit with the mundane tasks of her Carmelite convent: the washing of pots, the sweeping of floors, the folding of laundry. At some point of grace, the mundane became for her a sort of prayer, a way she could experience her ever-present connection to the divine pattern which is the source of life. She began then to see the face of God in the folded sheets.
People can most easily recognize mystery when it presents itself in dramatic ways. The person who heals for unknown reasons when all hope is gone, the angelic visitation, the life-altering coincidence. We seem to be able to hear God best when He shouts; even Moses required a burning bush, and Jesus' disciples needed him to feed multitudes with a single fish. Yet mystery is as common as a trip to the grocery store. In Guide for the Perplexed, E.F. Shumacher notes that the endless debate about the nature of the world is founded on differences in the sensitivity of the eyes that behold it: "We can only see what we have grown an eye to see." Some of us can only notice miracles. Some of us can only see in time of crisis. Yet we can all learn to see God in the folded sheets.
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