Reflecting on Luke 18: 1-18
Somewhere, at this moment, someone in the world is praying for you. I know. I just saw it with my own eyes.
Recently my husband Ben and I found ourselves on the highest hill in Paris, cozily ensconced in the Sacre Coeur monastery for two days. There we had the great joy of stepping out of our rooms and into the basilica, the breathtaking church built by the French in atonement for their part in the Franco-Prussian War.
Imagine the roar and rush of Paris. Then imagine stepping into the basilica, where the Benedictine nuns and priests sing the psalms (in French, of course) by candlelight, at various time of the night and day, world without end. Heaven.
Five days later we entered another piece of heaven when he got off the train in Lisieux, the home of St. Thérése. Roses! Millions of roses greet the pilgrims who have come to pray with the Carmelite community at the hermitage where St. Thérèse lived, and where she wrote Story of a Soul, the best-selling religious book of the twentieth century.
Here we prayed with the Carmelite sisters and postulants at all hours of the day and night. And oh, the music of those French psalms wafting through the grille where St. Thérése and her cloistered community once prayed. Heaven.
This is what I love about being Catholic: the sure and certain hope that we are never alone. At this moment, a friend, a stranger, or a member of some religious community somewhere is praying for us. Thank God that they never stop praying, for our help is from the Lord, who made heaven and earth.
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