Someone was drawing water and my teacher placed my hand under the spout. As the cool streams gushed over one hand, she spelled into the other the word "Water," first slowly, then rapidly. I stood still, my whole attention fixed upon the motions of her fingers. Suddenly, I felt a misty caress as of something forgotten—a thrill of returning thought; and somehow the mystery of language was revealed to me. I knew that "w-a-t-e-r" meant the wonderful cool something that was flowing over my hand. That living word awakened my soul, gave it light, hope, joy, set it free!
The elder warned us not to pray while our hearts were steeped in unprayerful feelings, without thoughts wandering as they chose. Prayer is not a mechanical activity, but a confrontation, a conversation with the Holy Presence. Pray humbly, then, in awe of God.
