As an intermittent visitor at a local church once, I was hoping to remember who I am and recall notions about where I might be going.
In undulating waves, comforting and inclusive words came from across the pulpit. Among the parishioners, kind and welcoming gestures extended themselves freely. And, during midweek gatherings, participants were able to affirm and acknowledge the Light that abides in each of our hearts. Yet, the sum of this composite collection of “a luminescent record” was outshone one fortuitous evening by a brief exchange I happened to witness after the close of a weekly gathering.
In the room of the gathering, where I was collecting my things to leave, I observed a child—of perhaps six or seven—coming into address the senior pastor who was also in the process of collecting his things.
In the unhurried manner that demarcates spiritual time and with the fullness of his Light, the pastor turned his undivided attention toward the child, having left his things on the desk. Then, he leaned forward, with complete presence, to hear the girl speak.
It is rare to see an example of full, spiritual presence and such a poetically beautiful scene. Still, it does happen. Be aware of the distractions, gadgets and Light-fracturing options the world sometimes offers; and, in their stead, choose full presence.