Sometimes in prayer I get the feeling that I have had a

meeting with my Father. I pray and ponder; speak and go silent without realizing that the world around me has retreated and I am in this place of muffled isolation. I am aware of the city

sounds and the birds but, as it were, outside of where I am. My thoughts consume my conscious world and my imagination flickers with thoughts that are not fully my own.

I am aware that I am in the presence of the Father.

Then the moment is over, as though my prayer has been caught up, like a wisp of smoke and drawn away. I am suddenly in the midst of the world-sounds, sharp, crisp, immediate—the contrast is jarring. I remember the warm, insulated sense of prayer, like being wrapped in a blanket.