Perchance, I Saw Love
It might have been any typical Sunday, any typical day that I would be seated in Church and listening to the priest and trying to pay attention. Paying attention, however, has always been difficult for me because I get distracted by the smallest movements. Sadly, this was one of those Sundays where I was lost in reverie, catching snatches of the words being said while trying to review my own life. Sometimes I wonder if this is the entire idea of being there. Aside from paying respect and fulfilling obligations, it is to have a moment to wholeheartedly contemplate on the things which truly matter. (If you choose to think of such things, that is.)
We were seated along the aisle, and my contemplation was interrupted by the movement of someone walking down the aisle. This was very noticeable because it was during the first reading and everyone was quiet and seated down. Remembering that it was rude to stare, I simply noted that it was an elderly woman making her way to the first pew. She seemed a little harassed-- or maybe embarrassed-- that she had arrived late. But I thought it was understandable, because even her steps' pace showed her age. She looked back for a moment, nodded and took her seat at the vacant first pew.
And I wondered, "Why is the first pew always vacant, and why are the last ones always first to be filled?" Is it a sign of presumptuousness to be sitting so close to the altar? Or is it simply because there are no kneelers in front? (Then again, the other pews that were a little further back did not have kneelers either but they were always filled first.) Noticing that my thoughts had strayed once more, my thoughts were interrupted by the figure of an elderly man at my peripheral vision. At his side was a nurse, and he walked at an even more challenging pace than the elderly woman. And it was necessary for him to use a walker to walk properly. Finally, he found his place beside the elderly woman, who eagerly helped him to sit down. The nurse easily took her place at the woman's side. After all, she had all the rest of the pew's space to sit in.
And as the words of the lector ran through my ears, my thoughts translated to what my eyes beheld. This was love, sitting at the first pew. This was love, finding the strength when one has hardly any left, to be together in the presence of the very Being who made it possible in the first place. This was what love meant, and that is the love I want to have, the is the love we all want to experience, possess and share.
We were seated along the aisle, and my contemplation was interrupted by the movement of someone walking down the aisle. This was very noticeable because it was during the first reading and everyone was quiet and seated down. Remembering that it was rude to stare, I simply noted that it was an elderly woman making her way to the first pew. She seemed a little harassed-- or maybe embarrassed-- that she had arrived late. But I thought it was understandable, because even her steps' pace showed her age. She looked back for a moment, nodded and took her seat at the vacant first pew.
And I wondered, "Why is the first pew always vacant, and why are the last ones always first to be filled?" Is it a sign of presumptuousness to be sitting so close to the altar? Or is it simply because there are no kneelers in front? (Then again, the other pews that were a little further back did not have kneelers either but they were always filled first.) Noticing that my thoughts had strayed once more, my thoughts were interrupted by the figure of an elderly man at my peripheral vision. At his side was a nurse, and he walked at an even more challenging pace than the elderly woman. And it was necessary for him to use a walker to walk properly. Finally, he found his place beside the elderly woman, who eagerly helped him to sit down. The nurse easily took her place at the woman's side. After all, she had all the rest of the pew's space to sit in.
And as the words of the lector ran through my ears, my thoughts translated to what my eyes beheld. This was love, sitting at the first pew. This was love, finding the strength when one has hardly any left, to be together in the presence of the very Being who made it possible in the first place. This was what love meant, and that is the love I want to have, the is the love we all want to experience, possess and share.