‘Every breath we draw is a gift of His Love. Every moment of existence is a Grace’. (Thomas Merton)
As always, I picked pretty stones to write Bible verses on for my front porch. I love beach stones, myriad shades, sizes and shapes to choose from. Endless.
We ate in the only restaurant open for miles around, February still deep winter in these parts. My meal, tasteless to say the least, inedible if I may be totally frank. Sheila’s meal very good. Young man serving us extremely pleasant. Not Irish, many miles from home, he seemed happy to chat with someone, anyone. Lonesome, and when I asked if he ever prayed, he promptly informed me that he did not believe in God, his Dad an atheist and probably his Mam too. He did get Christened though but that was simply tradition. (One day he will realise the enormity of his Baptismal Gift.)
After some time and lots of chat, I offered him my prayer. He accepted, maybe only because he was too gracious to refuse. Fine by me, any reason is good. ‘Just say it every morning’, I gently suggested.
Twenty three years of age and it seemed to me that nobody ever mentioned let alone witnessed about Jesus to that young man in his entire life. As we talked, I could see him become interested, eager to hear more, joyful even. When I told him that my prayer was love and not duty, he replied beaming; ‘Thank you very much. There is a message in that’.
If I can help even one person feel a little less pain, then my living will not be in vain.
My miserable meal worth every penny. I asked for a box and took it home to Jim ๐. He was well pleased.
‘Those who have come into genuine contact with Jesus Christ cannot keep Him for themselves, they must proclaim Him’. (St. Pope John Paul)
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