He was not a good Catholic, but he made efforts to improve; and isn’t that, perhaps, piece to life’s purpose: effort toward advancement and refinement, not in material or worldly sense, but for something of the soul, metric known to spirit and God but forever mystery to quantifiable means.
He prayed the rosary but skipped beginning Creed. He learned, when he focused first on correctness of the words, he fell away from sincerity of the soul. Discerning this, he focused on spirit of prayer before properness of phrase.
He could not name the Mysteries from one day to the next, and when he reached the beginning or end of a decade (not knowing how or where to officially deconstruct the circle’s order) rather than pray to a mystery, he spoke his prayers on behalf of others that, in contemplation, rose into consciousness of mind.
In darkness of a room, before appearance of daylight, he prayed before prayer candles, reflecting on their flame, and when prayer candles exhausted—empty glass with sticker icons—he prayed in the flame of common candles too.
Every day, God transformed common men and women into instruments of his love and will. Why should God treat candles any different? Why should God trouble and worry over man’s presentation and marketing plan for a packaged instrument of flame that serves to focus one’s own light and shine it back in spirit?
A simple candle would do.
And so he prayed, imperfect but with effort until arriving at final prayer.
He tried to pray it before, but it was one that never rested well upon his soul; and so, when circle closed, he reflected, searching in, then prayed his own.
“Hail Holy Queen, Mary, Mother of God: I don’t know the words. I’m not broken, and I’m not sad. I don’t want to sound ugly or begging before you. I just wanted to say thank you for the Gift you brought into this world. Thank you for your Love. Thank you for your Mercy; and by your intercession, may we strive to live these still. Amen.”
A simple prayer, by a simple man, that kept the Light alive.