Italian Prayer

I needed to pray.


So first I went to the two churches in town, and then I went to the sea.

In the churches I found silence but for the voices, murmurs of people filtering in and out. I found art, sometimes over 500 year old art, gazed upon by many awed worshipers, recognizing beauty and passion. I found a pew to sit on and rest, to allow myself to be supported.

And I asked.

I am here, and a piece of me is here. The door is open. Now where do I go from here? What is the next step? Practicality tells me to finish my degree, apply to grad school, write, write and write. My heart and tears tell me to stay here. So the two sides need to come together. I will go home to the people I love. I will finish my degree, and I will return here. I will write, write and write. Because it’s not always all or nothing. Sometimes it’s both. Sometimes the answer is, be with what you love. And what ties everything together is God. So whether I am in this home or that home, I am home – with God. So I first went to where we pray, where we find God sometimes. I then went straight to God – to the edge of the sea, and the two places balanced. A bit of silence, strength, creativity and power. So now, the water is coming into shore, it will then return to open sea, only to return again. Today is only the beginning, my first time ashore. I feel that home isn’t a set point in space, but rather where I put my feet. Wherever that is, there I find God.