Quiet
This is only my third night alone and already I feel like a character from a Dostoevsky novel: about to explore firsthand the outer boundaries of sanity. Many a saint has sung the praises of silence and solitude and though I cannot pretend that I have thus far capitalized spiritually on this respite from fatherhood and husbandry, I certainly sense the quietness driving me inward.
The icon corner calls to me at this very moment...the Chalice awaits me in the morning, hadn't I better do some self-examination? The kids are not just quiet and in bed, they are quiet and in bed 3,000 miles away. The only sound in the house is the constant running of the aquarium pump and my tapping at these keys. The prayer book is there waiting for me...I see it and the pre-communion prayers are waiting to actualize and redeem the silence in this house.
The Chalice awaits.
Take, Eat...Drink this all of you...
...wish you were here.
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