I drove up to the guard at the gate of the retreat house and asked permission if I could walk in and check out the place. I had just come from brunch at the cafe next door and since I was already there, I wondered if I would be able to wander in and explore the retreat house right next to it. The guard radioed his higher-ups asking for approval, then maybe because I was just a lone, curious tourist, gave me the go-signal.
I had been wanting to check out the retreat house’s chapel, pictures of which I first saw online. It did not disappoint, and I delighted in the fact that I was the only one there at the time.
I just sat there in silence for several minutes, admiring the chapel and the lush greens surrounding it. I didn’t say anything.
I mused at the realization that I was in a chapel in a retreat house– intentionally– and that I was there because my spirit was troubled and looking for comfort. I thought about how four years ago, a chapel would be the last place you’d find me in. I struggled to think of where I probably would go then, being agnostic and very worldly, if I needed peace of mind. I would’ve traveled abroad– Japan, probably, I thought with amusement. What a long way I’ve come from four years ago, that now my place of comfort is my Father’s house.
I wondered if I should pray the rosary (I hadn’t yet that day) and being an intercessor, I wondered if I should pray for the people who had asked me for prayer. But to be honest, I didn’t feel like praying anything and I thought I should reserve this time for myself.
But I didn’t know what to say. I knew the Lord knew everything anyway.
And in the silence, that’s what kept repeating over and over in my mind.
“‘Nak… alam Ko.
That’s when the tears flowed and I started sobbing.
You don’t have to say a word for God to hear your prayer.
God knows. My Father knows. He knows and he sees it all.
Nothing happened. No grand revelations, no enlightening thought from the Holy Spirit. For half an hour, it was just me and the Lord in silence.
Your Father knows what you need before you ask him. Matthew 6:8
It was one of my most meaningful, silent-but-powerful, intimate moments with my Father.