Sojourning in West Babylon, N.Y., at my parents' house. The tears of rain have given way to the smile of sun and the cheery breeze of the Spirit.
Morning meditation and
prayer facing the east window of the guest
room. Eight o'clock Mass at Our Lady of Grace with a few more than forty parishioners in
the Mary chapel. Walked home and returned to the scene of debris, drilling, and the rough voices of the laborers doing their dentistry on the kitchen and dining room. Closed myself in the family room and made breakfast and tea. Was able to eat and read the newspaper in relative serenity.
Going to spend the day at the West Babylon Public Library; intend to finish Thich Nhat Hanh's Living Buddha, Living Christ, which I have borrowed from the library of St. Michael Friary; eager to pull Robert Caro's
biography The Years of Lyndon Johnson from the shelves again. Then, to
evening meditation and prayer, perhaps outdoors: a walking meditation and prayer in the park nearby. Having dinner at Jennifer's house with Nicholas. Hooray! A home-cooked meal tonight, the first since Monday evening and the end of postulancy.
In the year before postulancy, I took my meals alone, and almost none of them were at home; during postulancy, I took almost every meal at home in the company of others. Now, I cannot conceive going more than three days without a home-cooked meal at table with my brothers and sisters. To do so would deprive the food and drink I take of their sacramental nutrition. If it is true that we are what we eat, it is then more sublimely true that we are how we eat. Eucharist is sacred not only because of what we take and eat, but how we take and eat what we receive.
If only every meal could be made in the image of the Eucharistic meal. If only I could remember to taste and see the goodness of the Lord in everything I consume: my food and my drink, and the things I put into my mind -- what I read, what I watch, what I hear.
Got to go. Time to get out of the dentists' way.