Wednesday, April 1, 2015

An old farmer had made a habit of showing up, morning and evening, in the back of the old village Church. He would linger a while, each time, and then go on his way. A new priest had come in, and was noticing these odd visits. After a few weeks, he approached him.
“Hello, sir. You come here often, I see.”
“Yes, Father, this is rather a habit, since my dear wife's passing.”
“Yet what do you do? I never see you with a prayer book, or even a knotted prayer rope!”
“No, Father, I have never been taught such things.
“So, then, do you come to meditate, or contemplate the Mysteries?”
“No, never learned such things, either.”
“Then, and please don't think me rude, but what is it you do here, every morning, and evening?  as St. Paul wrote, “I keep under my body, and bring it into subjection: lest that by any means, when I have preached to others, I myself should be a castaway.”1
“I come here. I look at Him,” he said. “He looks at me. We are happy!”1

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