|Photo used with permission of Denise Pyles
When I was in undergrad, I had not yet joined the Catholic church. I was in the midst of learning a whole new vocabulary for my relationship with God and a friend told me that the church just off of campus was open late into the evening and perhaps I would enjoy going over there to sit and pray in the quiet stillness.
I remember well exploring different aspects of St. Thomas’. I would trace the smooth spirals in the ends of the pews and marvel at the worn wooden statue of Mary that had such a kind, human face to her. I remember the slightly spicy, waxy smell and the feeling of nearness. And, I remember finding the book. There was a place to write to God! I thought this was fantastic.
I wrote pages and pages in this book over the course of my evening visits. Only later did I realize that the book was actually the community book of petitions…
Truth be told, though…even today, sometimes the only thing I know to do with how I feel is to write to God…
Longing, the Universe, Cinnamon, and You.
There are times I ache
when beauty presents herself…
When she surprises me
with her seasonal finery
stitched of colors and textures
too astounding for store-bought.
When she sighs and loosens and fills
acts of simple human kindness,
the touch of another that grounds,
that reminds, that knows and that sees.
sometimes the ache spills over
into syllables on a page, into a tear
on a salt path home to the ocean,
into a feeling woven gently
of longing and the universe and
cinnamon and you.
Kimberly M. King, RSCJ