Day 13 | Gardening at the Basilica
My mind gets lost in the sea of candles just flickering off to the right. There are so many prayers. I think of my own throughout the day and see rose gardens everywhere I walk. I see them at dinner tables about tax reform, street corners, and pews in basilicas. Oh, how I wish that I had eyes to see the other gardens... where the violets cluster, the tulips unfold, and the cherry trees blossom in the places where it is always spring.
June 23, 2016 | Glenbeigh, Ireland
This idea deepens my soul and guides me through the forest to the tranquil gardens where the roses grow. I do not know where the roses grow.
I walk in a garden, and there is rose after rose— so beautiful, so unique each of them, but the deeper into the garden I walk the more flowers there are.
There are so many that I find myself wading through the flowers, knee deep. Each one is more beautiful than the last, but I know there is one— one chosen rose, and I search for all the roses.
I do not know which it is, but slowly I realize that I am a flower, too. I walk by climbing, and I crave the sun alone. His light is the only presence that I seek. There is only one other rose— one chosen rose. The higher I climb, the more we become intertwined. They become more beautiful in sight. They recklessly in love with the light.