Sam

      Two thousand three hundred kilometres from where I am sitting fairly comfortably, is a spot where a few weeks ago I was destined before creation to stand (and sit and kneel and bow) for a fleeting period of time. From my position when I extended my neck and gazed at the apse, I realised the true purpose of my being and me being there, to see and know where I belong- at the feet of the King, the love of my life. May the dust that braced His feet shadow my existence. Before I could ponder if I was worthy to be where I was, to covet where I want to be and even to dare raise my eyes further up to His face, “Behold!” I heard the priest exclaim. The invitation was to see, not His feet, but His body and soul and not just to behold but to touch, taste and become. The answer to my question came from me in the timely response, ‘Lord, I am not worthy…’      ‘Good measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over, will be put into your lap,’ promised...