Just Little Things

The small things are often the most neglected. 

But catching them could just turn out to be the best moments of our day.

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Every time we say goodbye, I die a little
Every time we say goodbye, I wonder why a little
Why the Gods above me, who must be in the know
Think so little to me, they allow you to go 
- Cole Porter, "Everytime We Say Goodbye"

It's Sunday morning, again. Still dark outside, and here, too. I will not look for where the sun will soon rise, do not care for that sliver of light heralding dawn. No, none of that for me.

Ella is crooning in the background, and Neil, singing along with her.

What sad thoughts fill the mind.

The rustle of skirts on a balmy afternoon

reminds her of Franciscan sisters clad in gray habits and blue veils; of her fourteen-year-old self, falling in love with those nuns, wanting to be one of those nuns, reading St. Therese of Lisieux' Story of a Soul and spending sleepless nights repeating the lines in the book that had caught fancy; of singing in a choir and feeling the peace that only youth and hymns of praise could give; of a four-page essay she had written for a Creative Writing class, on the first page of which her professor had scribbled the lines, "Bravo! I could have sworn you were a nun in your past life!"

And then, the humdrum drone of passing cars brings her back to the present, where her last memory of prayer is that of trying to remember when it was she had last prayed.

(photo)

Sunday

But only say the word and I shall be healed.

When we are left with nothing, we are not left with nothing.
For at our most forsaken, we are being thrown a cue to remember that there is more to here and now than here and now.

There is always faith.

Peace be with you.