I’m not sure when my body decided to shift gears from being a late sleeper to an early riser, but, figuratively speaking, it opened a lot of doors for me. I get to experience the joys of sunrises and watch cities and towns come alive. I am privileged to see people ending their shifts and others who are starting theirs.
My childhood was a time when it was normal to leave the keys in the ignition of your car and church doors were always open. I accept the reasons why those things have changed, but continue to mourn their passing. For me there is still something very spiritual about being alone in a church and just sitting quietly in reflection. I have a fondness for old churches, especially those with stained glass windows that tell stories and pews whose finish has been worn away from so much use. Whether it’s a cathedral with a soaring ceiling or a small country church with simple scrollwork on the ends of the pews, it doesn’t matter to me as long as I sense a spiritual connection.
The Cathedral Basilica of St. Augustine is such a place. With St. Augustine being the oldest city in the U.S., the Cathedral Basilica lays claim to being America’s first parish. The interior is beautiful and offers respite from the many tourist attractions in the ancient city. On this morning I found one of the priests dutifully placing leaflets about the day’s services in the pews. Certainly not a glorious task, but a necessary one.
