I have grown over the past decade to love morning Mass, especially in a church that fills with the morning light as it shimmers through the trees and has cast within it light and shadow in the kaleidoscopic variation that changes with the breeze. All of this coupled with the Presence—I cannot ask for anything more. He is greater than I, and my heart belongs to Him and those who love Him.
The sun may shine, but shadows do exist. Although they do, the light shines ever brighter... It's warmth on a Saturday is a consolation on the Way—of chill mixed with warmth.
What can I say that He doesn't already know? I sit on that bench in prayer. Waiting, yes, waiting... For my beloved whom I do not know. I wait because of the light—that sure light. Can I do anything else? Where else can I run? To whom should I go?
Can there be anything to add or to give? He has given everything. I can give my presence, my thought, my accedence, yes. But can I give my love?
I do not move because of the light; within it there is no darkness.