Prayer becomes a connection to those we do not know. As we intervene for people all over the world, we become mysteriously linked with them. So, when we enter the sacred space of prayer, a crowded, jostling, colorful procession accompanies us.
We have been silent. My mother is gathering small pine cones. We cross a wooden bridge and look down at the water. The mud hens come toward us, dragging a ripple of light across the water. Never in my life have I brought anyone to this sacred place. I have come here for its silence, early in the morning. And she, for the first time in our life together knowing exactly what I need, enters with me in silence.