She wandered in to the chapel in flannel pants and a hoodie sweatshirt, hair wet from the shower she had taken to wash off the day. Usually she slept first then woke to an alarm clock for an Hour assigned this late, but tonight she'd been up all the time. Pacing, browsing, sorting... escaping.
Bible and yellow notepad in hand (she couldn't find her journal), she was right on time for one hour listening in silence.
2:58am. She locked her car and made her way to the subtle door to enter the keycode. Turned her phone off and ducked inside.
An old man noticed her arrival with a glance over his shoulder and the pew, and got up to retire for the night. She hadn't seen him here before. "Hi, I'm here for the same reason," they both said with just a nod. Changing of the guard.
Now on her knees, she closed her eyes, and soon began to weap. And write. And weap. The yellow paper filled with scribbles of pleas and prayers and thanks and profundity. She, alone in the pews, was so close to Him.
The yellow paper to be kept forever, but a defining moment only she can cherish so. She would grow into so many other things, but would hold onto this hour always.
