"You're a natural contemplative," a priest/friend once told me in high school. A few months before, I wouldn't have known what he meant. Raised Catholic and having attending Catholic schools from the start, one might have imagined I would have already learned about the rich tradition of contemplative prayer in the the Church. No. Perhaps at that time, such knowledge was deemed unsuitable for the person in the pew. Or perhaps the diocesan clergy were not practicing contemplatives themselves: You can't give what you don't have.
A community of Carmelite nuns, opening their doors to those hungering for something deeper, gifted me with vocabulary and understanding of what I had been drawn to since a child: a quiet way of prayer that was simply part of who I was. They also provided a place where I could come and, well, pray. Sitting in the quiet chapel for a half hour before Mass, just aware of being with others in the Presence of God, was one of the most life-giving times of the week during those years. Read More
