Courage has roots. She sleeps on a futon on the floor and lives close to the ground. Courage looks you straight in the eye. She is not impressed with powertrippers, and she knows first aid. Courage is not afraid to weep, and she is not afraid to pray, even when she is not sure who she is praying to. When Courage walks, it is clear that she has made the journey from loneliness to solitude. The people who told me she is stern were not lying; they just forgot to mention that she is kind.
We are often bombarded by so many extraneous stimuli that it is difficult to pray, much less remain attentive in the silence. I can't help but wonder how many times God has called my name and has caught me in my distraction. Perhaps the sum and substance of our conversations with God are being able to talk together as we would with our closest friend. In any good conversation, there are moments of silence -- intimate silences filled with the comfort of the presence of the other.