[stylist] believing the unbelievable

[Debby Phillips]

Hey Bill! I need my saints, too.  I have an imaginary "conference 
room" where I go sometimes to have conferences with the Lord, 
Mother Mary, and my favorite saints.  Sometimes it's a very 
formal room, with tablecloths, flowers on the tables, candles, 
you know.  Other times it's a very informal room, easy chairs and 
side tables for putting the proverbial cup of coffee.  (This was 
a big stretch for me, because I didn't grow up Catholic, but was 
an Evangelical Christian).  So much happier as a Catholic.  
(Smile).

I tried sending something that I wrote and got it back, so I'm 
going to send it below my signature.  Hope that's okay.    Debby

The warmth of summer beating down, the birds singing their 
evening song.  We walk the hill, our voices bright and young, 
hopeful.  We sit on a bench, our bodies resting, muscles 
relaxing.  The fountain plays its gentle song, and I relax, 
feeling the weariness ease away.

The bell rings, and from everywhere footsteps move toward the 
church.  We hurry to join those who have come to pray.  The cool 
interior of the church surrounds me, the smell of previous 
incense coating the air.

I sit, the silence begins to envelop me.  Footsteps, rustling 
robes, the monks in their black and white processing in as they 
have done for so many years.  A path seems to be worn into the 
floor from those footsteps, old monks who have prayed there for 
years, down to the youngest monk who came the day before.  Maybe 
he too will someday walk that path in the floor, an old monk, 
hunched with time and work.

The knock sounds, and the prayer begins, soft, suffused with 
purity and holiness.  A joy flows through me-i am here for this 
night, and this night can last as long as I wish it to.  The joy 
is only half joy, because I would like to be there in the here 
and now, but that is not possible.  So I let the memory flow 
around me.  The prayer flows in and through me.  I sing the words 
softly in my head and heart.

The prayer ends, and in silence, the monks leave.  I softly go to 
my room, and sit before the open window.  The fountain lulls me, 
the remembered prayer surrounds me.  I know at this moment that I 
am fully, and forever loved.