Probably one of the first strokes of grace in my life is my father's become totally paralyzed when I was eight years old, because it led me to become the kind of person I am now. Sometimes we understand grace only in retrospect. If someone were to ask me what grace is, I would probably respond, "It's all grace."
A small seed sowed in the field. I am back to the part of darkness in my prayer. As the seed opens in the ground, so the soul opens in the ground, in the dark. Over the last decade, with each faltering step I took into this darkness, my prayer — a prayer of no words — found deeper roots. This way of prayer is the dark way of silence. This way takes leave of discourse, of the mind, and turns to the heart, the dwelling place of God.
~ from CIRCLING TO THE CENTER by Susan M. Tiberghien