I always loved being an acolyte.
When I was finally old enough
to carry the fire of the Holy Spirit
down the center of God’s palace… wow.
No one taught me to feel the gravity of the moment
when I held the wooden handle
of the giant fake candle, I just knew that
I was sensing the presence of something bigger.
The most devoted and mindful moments of my life
were in the presence of that light.
Putting on my white robe or stepping onto that purple-carpeted altar,
everything else would go still and silent.
I know the deep beauty
of ushering the light in to the people,
and I feel the significance
of putting it out.
On the Sundays when I processed with the priest
instead of the choir,
I felt especially aware of my Self
and I hovered slightly higher outside of my body.
Somehow the excitement of this peace I felt,
surpassed the joy of receiving butterscotch candies
from Mr. Boardman who was the most popular
among the church children.
Singing in the choir was my first intuitive experience.
When we got our sheet music, I never read it,
I just looked at the symbols and heard them
coming from my lips.
I still remember the vibrations
when we tilted our heads toward each other
and raised our voices to create a new one
that made heads turn and stare.
This is the Divine power of the Holy Spirit,
it’s something we can touch in any moment.
No one needs a church to feel the whole world go silent,
sometimes all it takes is another pair of eyes.
Do your children a favor,
when they say they don’t need
the same reminders you do,
please be humble enough to believe them.
Montreal, Canada (c) Veronica Anderson