An odd (or maybe not too odd, maybe it should have been expected) thing happened to me the other night. 

It has been a difficult time for our family and I was feeling lonely. More than that. I was on the brink of despair. My journey with Christ had progressed so far, and now — I was feeling like I was two steps away from the dark places I had spent so long without Him. 

I felt alienated from my parents, my spouse, my friends, and even my God. My heart longed for comfort, for the gentle touch of the presence of God…I closed my eyes. 

In my mind, images sprung up. Memories of sounds and smells. Images of icons, vestments, and a procession. And then…peace. Comfort. And a different kind of longing. A hopeful, eager longing. 

My memories of the single Divine Liturgy I attended back in December last year broke through my heart, which had begun already to harden toward God. It was truly a memorable thing. Certainly something that never happened in all the rest of my years attending my Protestant church.