What Heaven Can Hear

By Michael Foley

Last December, I decided to attend a retreat in Finland, of all places. A retreat in — say, Bermuda — might’ve been preferable that time of year, especially for a Minnesotan. But the Finnish retreat would be led by Dave Oshana, a spiritual teacher I admire and respect, so I put on my heated socks, zipped up my parka and got on a plane.

The retreat was held on a small island on the edge of the Baltic Sea, three hours southwest of Helsinki. Starlight reflected off snowy hills as we drove to our destination. That area of Finland is so sparsely populated I didn’t see so much as a streetlight for long stretches.

There were about 20 of us in all, and we stayed in a large farmhouse on the island. A sizable A-frame nearby was used for our group meetings. It was on the last night of my visit that something quite remarkable happened.

As I sat quietly in the vaulted structure waiting for our evening session to begin, I looked out the window at the evergreens laden with fresh snow, and felt like I was in a Christmas card — or perhaps some holiday movie from the ’40s with Jimmy Stewart, Donna Reed and Bing Crosby. I wouldn’t have been surprised if, at that moment, jolly St. Nick himself came sliding up with a team of Finnish reindeer.

I was also struck by the quiet and peace that descended upon us as we sat surrounded by flickering candles. Dave began our last night together by posing a simple question: “What do you think of God?”
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