"But oh father, it is you that has called them, and has redeemed them all by name."

"Can their shame turn to sorrow, 'till forgiveness and grace unfold?" -Mark Mathis.

The raindrops echoed in the seemingly deserted monastery. An eerie feeling settled over me, as I realized that each raindrop sounded like a foot step. The ceiling leak dropping in the bucket was slow and rhythmic.


Plink, plink, plink.

I settled back with my hot chocolate and watched the window, fog rising and obscuring the view outside. I thought about turning on music, seeing as music was my sanctuary. Always safe, always comforting, always there. A universal language. Everyone can understand music.

Something was holding me back, however. I could only sit and listen to the sounds of the falling night, breathe in the humid air around me. I was held back in deep thought, the consequence being a great deal of consonants and vowels banging around in my head. The real struggle was my slowly articulating emotions. The language of the heart is very hard to put into words.

Plink, plink, plink.


I stripped myself of jewelry, my scarf, a jacket, and my shoes and stepped outside into the cascade of drops. It felt comforting, somehow. I could see the rain's endless tirade leaving it's mark, washing away the impurities of the earth. I could feel the slickness as it ran down my arms and off of my hands. I was being washed with the world. But it was only an outer cleansing.

As I slowly moved through the pooling water beneath me, shoes in my right hand, I was remembering. No matter the feeling, no matter the discomfort, I knew. I knew everything would work out as it's supposed to. I had been called clean and redeemed by name. I had been given purpose. The world will always try to knock whatever hope I have inside of me out onto the sidewalk, broken and bleeding. It will try and bring me to my knees and keep me there. But if I can manage to stay alive....if I can manage to remain standing when the bell rings, then I have been victorious.

I headed back into shelter, dripping wet on the outside, yet somehow feeling cleaner on the inside.

Plink, plink, plink.


As I returned to my now-not-so-hot chocolate, I couldn't help but smile when I sank into my favorite sanctuary in the form of the gentle melodies of Mark Mathis. As long as I was standing....

As long as I was alive.