January 17, 2008

Walking Home

Walking home from the funeral home at nine o'clock at night, I'm suddenly so grateful for the cold and the snow and the quiet, and for a moment I can really pray.

The snowflakes hit my face and turn into water as the heat gets pulled out of me and goes into them. And I know at that moment that the breath of life that God put into Adam somehow weaved its way down through history to me, and I pray for all those people that I know and don't know.

The snow crunches under my crappy brown habit shoes and it makes me hear the quiet of a snowy night, and it gives me just a glimpse of the silence of eternity and the Word of God spoken into It.

And I'm so grateful for the quiet and the cold and the empty island of peace between the previous task and the next project, like the Holy of Holies at the center of the Temple that God demanded be left empty.
at

1 comment:

Faithful, or even just thoughtful criticisms are always welcome. Uninformed rudeness to other posters or to the Lord and His Church is not.

I also reserve the right to reject comments promoting things like private revelations and fringe points of view, if it seems to me like they are being presented in a misleading way.

If you raise a disagreement with something I say but I do not respond, please do not feel slighted or insulted, or imagine that this automatically means I disagree or agree with you. It's just that I don't find the comment box to be a constructive medium for certain forms of debate.