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.
Some days, although we cannot pray, a prayer utters itself. So, a woman will lift her head from the sieve of her hands and stare at the minims sung by a tree, a sudden gift. Some nights, although we are faithless, the truth enters our hearts, that small familiar pain; then a man will stand stack- still, hearing his youth in the distant Latin chanting of a train. Pray for us now.