The Mundane Way

After reading the day's prayers and scripture selections from my small copy of Magnificat  magazine the other day, I looked out from my office into the school library and was momentarily stunned by the fact of God's presence. Not that I felt anything directly, but I was struck by the truth that God was there--in that room, that building, at that moment. Through my doorway I saw the beat-up computers and the tiled ceiling strung with orange lights for Halloween. For the moment there were no students, and somehow their absence enhanced my sense of the Presence that filled the room--filled and embraced it at the same time, even though no one was there to be filled and embraced by it. This Presence, I realized, suffuses the room day after day, pouring itself moment by moment into every painted cinder block in the wall, every wooden chair, every book standing on the old shelves, every pixel on every scratched and smudged computer screen. This ordinary room blazes with glory. How ve