Lately I’ve been feeling like I need have must do more. I feel grateful for the life I live and know in my heart that there is something missing. The obvious answer is the longing for our family to be together again permanently and not a string of visits from my husband. But I felt compelled to attend a St. Vincent de Paul meeting at our church. Named after the saint who selflessly devoted his entire life to helping the poor, this charity continues his work in his name. I look forward to having our children go through their toys and clothes to donate and realize on their own that this isn’t something we should do but something we MUST do.

At the end of the meeting, we were led in a quiet meditation that brought me to tears but instead of allowing this moment to wash over me I abruptly stopped it.

I don’t know why. Perhaps I felt like I would be perceived as a poser for crying at the first meeting. Or maybe I was embarassed for shedding tears in front strangers.

Most likely, I was in denial that I could be so moved over something so small. Since when is the power of prayer and meditation small? Minimal maybe, but never small.

I needed that moment right there and then. I needed to know that it was possible. If that wasn’t a sign for something I was compelled to do, I don’t know what is.