white-washed walls enclose the tiny space, illumined by four wrought iron sconces and one lone candle. music is reverberating about these walls, sent from the jet black piano, bouncing about, before settling on the ears of all those contained here. those that slowly but surely, one by one, file to the front of the room (only a few steps away) to bow their heads and receive this sign of human humility.
the small woman on my left catches my eye, we share a glance - a smile. the myriad of fine lines which crease her rosy face close together like a chorus of clapping hands, celebrating the clear blue eyes which shine from her face with overwhelming joy. she's french and speaks very little english. i'm english and speak practically no french, yet somehow, in that moment - we speak volumes. i see in her face the love and joy of god that i hope to reflect in my own. the excitement of this holy season, the anticipation of the lessons we will learn and the ways in which our lives will grow and be enriched by this coming time of self-sacrifice, penance, and simplicity. but more than that we share the joy of each other's company. two souls sitting side by side, no words between them, yet in perfect communion within the structure of the mass being said by that little white-headed fransiscan brother only a yard or so away, just beyond that row of people right in front of us. in morocco.
i wonder if, when she was my age, forty or fifty years ago, if she would ever have thought that she would be in this place, sharing this space at this point in time with a young, american girl and all of the other dozen or so people. i doubt it - but i have a feeling that in her mind there was no where else she would rather be. at least that's how i felt...
No comments:
Post a Comment