eight

335:365

Noon prayer with my monks. Gregorian chant. Peace. Devotion.

All in eight minutes.

It's incredible to me that not only do I get to participate in this almost daily, but I'm encouraged to.

One of them stopped by my office before Mass this morning.

"I like that you pray with us."
"I like that you welcome me."

He told me he wasn't always so pious, and that when he was younger he would tell his father he was going to Mass and instead would go walk around the park for an hour. He laughed that his friends were smarter; they'd at least stop by church first and pick up a bulletin. It was their "Mass receipt," proof for their parents that they had gone.

"Have you always been religious?" he asked with a smile. I shook my head. "Nope, and I wouldn't say I'm more religious now. I just see things differently."

I guess I might say I am more in touch with my faith. It was always there...I just didn't pay as much attention to it.

These monks, these holy men who fight their own faults daily, continue to amaze me. They are so in touch with their faith, way more than I could ever be, and yet they have the same human struggles I do.

They give me hope.

Not too shabby for eight minutes a day.