Going to the Chapel

Missed Mass today, but found my way later to a tiny chapel, where I sat for about 15 minutes. Liked the quiet, the contemplation, the little locked wood box on the wall for private intentions written on slips of paper. Didn't put one in, but liked it just the same. Wondered who did, and what the notes scrawled in pen said. And why was it locked? Would others really stoop so low as to steal someone else's personal intentions?

Chose a seat against the wall, so I could lean there for support. Studied the stained glass. Could not read some of the words on it--in another language. Said some prayers. Sent some good thoughts. Felt calm and connected.

And--cannot lie--since I was alone in my private chapel, checked my cell phone for the time, and to see if I had any new text messages. [Would not do that at church.] Then I moved on.

Good night.