I have notice in the stillness of this one bed room apartment that it is not without sound. There are hums, buzzes, clicks and whirls. If I were to turn on the television, they seem to fade away. It is Sunday, I am prepping for the day. I hug my spiritual book and silently pray for the Holy Spirit to come to teach me. I might not catch on till the end of the day. I am somewhat slow.
Since the death of my dear husband, David. I find that I use the stillness and the silence more and more. I journal. I work. I pray. I draw. Yes, I sing.
My physical makeup, being somewhat old now, makes it hard to bend low...to bow. This little action of worship is what I miss. Not too long ago, I visited a convent. The nuns no longer to the cadence of body, mind and voice in their divine worship. I find this a little sad.
I have health issues too, but I still move to make the genuflection. The knees now added their crackling and popping to my heart's movement toward my Jesus in the tabernacle. We seem more concern about worshipping our comfort. I am trying to move pass comfort. The cross reminds me to do so. So I do.
