“…but Mary kept all these words, pondering them in her heart.”—Luke 2: 19
He read in the predawn morning—body, mind, and spirit waking slowly in self-ritual well before rising of the sun. Something struck, an affection that moved within; and when it came, he rose and moved to a small table where he wrote upon an open page.
“Read until affection comes, then examine why it’s there. What is the meaning? What is the reason? What is the purpose of affection’s presence?
Draw in. Contemplate. Maybe an answer appears. Maybe it is overt. Maybe it is subtle. Maybe wondering is the purpose, a path to further contemplation…”
In the writing or the line, a fragrance appeared, an element in room not present moment before. He looked to the burning candle, to the image of a simple woman in pious pose before backdrop of lain roses.
Its wick burned, melting and drawing wax into its flame, illuminating in aurora behind woman’s crown.
In a sleeping world, his spirit was alive.
“Hail Holy Queen, Mother of Mercy, our life, our sweetness, and our hope, to thee do we cry…Pray for us, O holy Mother of God, that we may be made worthy of the promises of Christ.”