I am thankful for a lovely space this morning.
My daughter, with her baby, has not stepped out of her room yet so I sit on their balcony. It’s cool enough for a light jacket. I face West; the Rocky Mountains peek over the apartments – a good reason to live on the third floor. The sun blazes from behind, illuminating the pool below with sparkly brilliance. The highway is not far off; to drown out the drone, I play a Pandora station of meditative music. Sipping hot coffee, with their old black Lab, George, by my feet, I say Morning Prayer on this day we honor The Most Holy Name of Mary. I feel compelled, after my rosary which I prayed for everyone on my extensive prayer lists, including my family, to pray more specifically for some on that list. So I offer the Memorare. And, for myself, a prayer to the Immaculate Heart of Mary.
The waves of the music ebb and flow from my mind down through my heart and my entire being and the cool air tickles my bare feet. I sit in silence. And breathe.
He speaks to my soul.