When I was just a little girl...

...I went to visit Meryemana. Some believe that Mary was taken to this stone house by Saint John and lived there until her Assumption. My parents were big into visiting ancient places, so before I was even 12, I could boast of seeing Babylon, and Ephesus.
This time, I was 9, and still open to the wonder of the places we went, where as later as a teen, I'd be bored.

We'd visited Ephesus, and then we drove up into the mountains, around and about, up zig-zag dirt roads, shaded by overgrown trees, and the warmth, from the weakened sun of a Turkish November, which all added up to 'beautiful' in my view. We finally arrived, and I don't remember it as particularily busy. It was the off-season, and specifically why my parents had chosen this time to escape the searing glare of Iraq's sun.

I remember gazing at the prayer tree, with its fluttering prayers, pieces of simple white cloth, tied to the branches, and my mother telling me as we went, what everything was. The tree grew at the foot of a small path, leading up a small slope, and the tiny, darkened chapel at the top. There were other buildings, but I only remember them as shadows amongst the leafy-green trees.

The chapel I saw was small...and no one else was around, which I preferred, so I went in. The doorway was so low, my parents remained outside, and it endeared itself even more to me, like it was just for me.
Inside, there  were candles. Now as I recall it, others must have entered to light them, but it never occurred to me then. It felt special there. I felt special there. It was the first time I felt God. And I knew what it was, no one explained it to me, I just knew.

My eldest sister was expecting her firstborn, and I lit a candle for the baby, sending a child's wish to God, "Please let it be a girl?". I don't remember why, exactly, I wanted the baby to be a girl, but I did, in the simplest form, perhaps to have a playmate, for my sister was 17 yrs older, and I wasn't especially close to her. A few months later, Emma was born. That's not why I remember it though. The feeling of being known, and seen and loved....I think that's how I'd explain it, it stayed with me, it's still with me, and it shines light a light inside me when I go to Mass. To me, it's saying, yes this is the Church to be in.