It had to be the coldest day of the year, but there she came with her head wrapped snuggly with a beautiful brightly colored scarf, her long woolen coat that hung loosely over her severely curved back but with a look of sheer determination as she walked through the door of the chapel. I greeted the 90 year old at the door and asked if I could help her. Her old, but kind eyes looked up at me as if to say "don't you know?" I had forgotten it was the first Friday of the month and she had come to light her candles - after all that was what her mother had taught her and she never forgot .It was a tradition that had been passed down to her.
Being careful not to be obtrusive, yet feeling a need to assure her safety, I stayed quietly in the background giving her some time and space for prayer. As I watched her carefully light each candle, I was very moved by the beauty and grace of this woman as she knelt reverently in prayer. Even from my safe distance I could hear her heart-felt words - not asking for anything - but rather a sincere prayer of thanks for the many blessings she had received. It was not just a prayer, but the ease and comfort with which she spoke; she was having a conversation with a good friend.
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