Back in New Jersey, I would often see people in church, very early in the morning, as I got ready for Mass. There were usually not more than two or three, but as they prayed in the darkened church I could feel the soft language a quiet church speaks in the early hours.
I don’t know if the people I saw were worrying about how they prayed or what they said. They seemed to be listening to the peace. And as they listened and as they prayed, their presence became a prayer.
They were scattered bits of light in the darkness of the morning. Their waiting and silence reminded me of the presence of God. But I never told them. Maybe I should have, but it didn’t seem necessary. They would have been surprised to hear they said so much to me … without ever uttering a word.
[Portraits of Grace, James Stephen Behens OCSO, p.90]
9 May, 2012 at 1:43 am |
Beautiful post.