Sometimes it's all about food. My days living in Florence are coming to an end, at least for now; Tuesday I fly home. I have prayed in churches, prayed in parks, prayed on the streets and while crossing bridges. I have prayed for people I know and for strangers. I have prayed for peace, for me and for the world. I have lit candles for friends who are struggling. I have prayed words and prayed through my heart.
Please, I don’t mean to sound pious. For sure, I am not; and for sure, I don’t pray all the time. Often my mind wanders randomly. Sometimes I’m engaged in the art and architecture, and the beauty and particularities of Florence. Sometimes, um often, all my thoughts are on food.
That’s one way to summarize what my life of prayer looks like at this moment in my life. It will look a little different when I am home, but in truth, it’s more or less the same wherever I live.
Please, I don’t mean to sound pious. For sure, I am not; and for sure, I don’t pray all the time. Often my mind wanders randomly. Sometimes I’m engaged in the art and architecture, and the beauty and particularities of Florence. Sometimes, um often, all my thoughts are on food.
That’s one way to summarize what my life of prayer looks like at this moment in my life. It will look a little different when I am home, but in truth, it’s more or less the same wherever I live.
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