Coming Down the Stairs in My Apartment

 By Novice Chris Crebbin

Coming down the stairs in my apartment, I couldn’t hear much noise from the outside that particular morning. Even though I do my morning prayer sessions well before the sun rises, it can be noisy sometimes, living in the city.

What I could hear, was the singing of the Benedictine Nuns coming softly from my stereo system. I would leave it on all night, so when I came down for my morning prayers, it would help create a sacred space. It comforted me to hear them sing. I imagined I was walking through a church and hearing the choir’s voices drift from somewhere down the hall.

As was my habit, I used the remote to turn down the stereo system so I could just barely hear them in the background, then placed the remote back on the side table next to the couch.

I walked over to sit in the chair that I used every morning for prayers, which was eight feet or so away from the side table. Starting my prayers with deep breathing, I then thanked God for another morning, another day. Then to forgiving others, asking others to forgive me, and after forgiving myself, I moved on to a quiet meditation.

When I finished those, I started random and remembered prayers. Partway through this, I said a prayer that I say occasionally. “God, when I turn my face from you or forget you, I’m sorry, guide me gently back and let me know you’re always there.” As soon as I finished that statement, the volume went up on the stereo system. I stopped. I looked over at the remote and it was still sitting on the top of the side table, by itself. It hadn’t fallen off or moved. Then it dawned on me what had just happened, and my eyes filled with tears. I couldn’t think for a few seconds. The instant I finished “…and let me know you’re always there”, Presence gave me an answer; “yes, I’m always here”. For me? Really? I forgot how many times I told God thank you that morning. My thank-yous seemed so small compared to the gift I was given. That moment moved me from wishing, hoping, and wondering, to starting to know. I don’t doubt anymore. What a treasured gift.