Passion caused a break in his voice. As a blanket spreads a sleeping child, so did the tensive moment drape the group. In that we keep ourselves close–in that expressed emotions are not ordinary–a tendril of embarrassment flickered in the air, so that eyes previously pinned on the speaker now lowered.
From my spot, slightly distanced from the small group, I saw one of the students, in a cautious lift of eye, scan the face of another…and then one more.
The question had been asked. “What do you mean by an altar?”
The answer was clear, and yes, an altar can be anywhere, and yes, it refers to communication with God, and yes, sometimes in my car it is hard to drive because of my emotional response as I talk with God.
But the moment, the tensive one, was another.
“But I have a chair–a chair in my living room, and it is there I kneel and pray. It is my place, my time.” His voice broke. “I look forward to that. That chair is my altar”
My other blog is here.
2 thoughts on “An Altar at a Chair”
Beautiful. A story without interpretation. No interpretation is necessary.
Thank you, Helen. Altars are that way, aren’t they…pretty much speak for themselves.