I clasped my 4 year old Franco in my arms at the break of dawn today. He woke up ahead of his siblings and went up to our third floor study where I was having my prayer time. Seeing him up so early, I decided to spend some time with him. I lifted him in my arms as he rested his sleepy head on my shoulders.
That was when “the moment” came.
Accompanied only by the occasional noises of some distant cricket, the silence enveloped our tight embrace. In the silence, our hearts spoke so loudly as his chest rested on mine. Son to father. Boy to dad. Heart to heart…
It was then when I knew once more what “moments” are…
When silence speaks volumes of comprehensible words, and heartbeats convey torrents of unspeakable emotions.
When words are not necessary, and presence is more than enough.
When lingering in the silence meant hearing more of what truly matters.
When savouring the instant makes the eternal more relevant.
When your miniscule existence is atomized yet made significant by the immensity of what matters most in life.
Franco needn’t talk. I needn’t speak.
But it was our silence which made the moment. For without it, life, in all its busyness could have automatically muffled the voice of love which reverberated so significantly from our hearts.
“The moment” is also true when it comes to prayer.
Sometimes, prayer needs no words.
Oftentimes, it means just sitting quietly in a corner and being with God.
“in your presence there is fullness of joy; at your right hand are pleasures forevermore.” (Psalm 16:11)
Prayer is being in God’s presence.
In his embrace. Heartbeat to heartbeat. Heart to heart.
You need not be fluent or articulate or poetic.
You need only to be there.
In “the moment”.