Doors are closed and locked and I am empty.
Sunlight warms my spine of pews. Cold batters my bulky limestone skin and though there is a temporal absence of chattering bodies and music and movement, I don’t feel alone. Solitude is a beacon for genuine reflection.
Quiet moments allow me to lay out all that is behind and all that is to come, never allowing fear to weaken my being or soul, if there is such a thing for the likes of me. I take solace in the fact good things are built to last. It’s our choice to preserve or neglect them.
Family. Sisterhood. Brotherhood. Time. Life. A Church.
Each of these and more can stand as indestructible and abiding as God, but it takes care and vigilance. It takes love and courage and selflessness. It takes other fruits of a spirit not listed in the Bible.
All have the potential to discover peace, turn it into something everlasting. But humans carry their sorrow and disappointment, their trials and tragedies. They drag them with them, ugly, battered luggage, opened and rummaged through for the sheer purpose of torturing themselves with unfortunate past actions.
Our history can shape the future, but it doesn’t define it. Our present is anchored by those around us, those we allow in our lives and those who, by default or shared blood, walk a road with us. What we choose to do with that companionship is up to us.
Past, present and future communing together, the joining of this holy trinity. Who humans are, and what the world is, live in these three things.
Remember this, always.