Sunday Morning at the Park
The sound of the carillon at my east midtown church. (pardon the de-lata-istic sound. it's the best audioblogger seem capable of...)
We were expecting the first rainy weekend since spring started. This year had been very pleasant at the East Coast. Friday was soaked and forecasters warned that the weekend would be soggy. On Saturday morning we woke to a drizzle, a 'spill over' from the night's outpouring. Towards lunch however, Mr. Sunshine had began to peek through the clouds. Peek it did the rest of day and the tears from the heavens had ceased. And then on Sunday, it was cooler at mid-60's and very very pleasant. There was sunshine everywhere and the birds chirped their greetings to the brightness.
I go to mass in Midtown in a church that faces a beautiful park with benches underneath a canopy of tall trees. Fifteen minutes before mass begins, the carillon bells sound off a beautiful harmony that will surely warm even the coldest heart. It is a rhythm of joy, of hope and the sound of faith.
I always come early, not just to have enough time to give thanksgiving for the blessings I continue to receive but to embrace the beauty of the city which now I feel embraces me back. I would sit on the bench, perhaps catch up on some calls to dear friends or distant relatives. Or just watch the people walk their dogs, push their kids in strollers, stroll, jog or like me, watch with appreciation the beauty of a bright summer morning on the East Side. I would close my eyes and listen to the splash of the water in the fountains or the flap of the wings of the pigeons who would fly around in circles to re-converge in the same spot again, feasting on the donations of bread crumbs generously thrown to them by young children or the elderly from their wheelchairs.
This is for me one of the pictures of what perfection is: a beautiful Sunday morning where the city takes a back seat to the fast pace of life. When attention is shifted to the more important aspects of life: relaxing, devoting time to love, the family, the self and ... the dog. And I can't help but ask how this can be all possible if not for the stroke of the brush of a great all-knowing being who comes in many names: God, Jehovah, Allah, Christ. I had been posed questions by many cynical minds and I always find myself unwilling to go into a confrontation based on what I believe in and my respect for what they have faith in or not. If they can only see what I can and then maybe the sunshine this Sunday would also bring them enlightenement.
Life is beautiful.