After a busy, hectic day at school, I come home to find myself just as occupied. There is homework to do, chores to be done, tests I have to study for, dinner to eat, and time needed to talk with family members. Throughout the day, there are thoughts and feelings that bombard my mind. There are activities that have to be done, places to do and deadlines to meet.
Then, in the hills in the fields behind our house, the sun slowly commences to set. Gradually, the commotion dies down. The curtains are drawn. The dishes are packed into the dishwasher and the floor swept clean. The children take their baths and bedtime stories are read.
Darkness envelopes the sky and bright, sparkling stars speckle the blackness. Soon, the busy house, once full of shouts, laughter, clanging and conversation, becomes very silent. The television and radios are turned off. My family members each go to their respective bedrooms to sleep.
I walk quietly down the dim hallway. I know the house so well, there is no need to turn on a light. I pass through the clean kitchen into the dining room. I turn on the two lamps on either side of the buffet. They have pink glass globes so that the light that they emit casts beautiful pink shadows across the empty room. I pull out a chair and sit down. The only sound I hear is the gentle, familiar tick-tock of the clock in the living room.
I sit down and am face-to-face with two pictures, one of the Jesus and the other of the Virgin Mary. They are not big or grand. They aren’t framed by gold or embellished with jewels. Just two paintings on the dining room buffet.
Yet, in these two simple paintings, I find my favorite place to pray. Many years ago, when I was in elementary school, one of our parish priests came to bless this section of our home. The dining room buffet was designated as the Enthronement of the Sacred Heart of our house. It became a very powerful place for my family and me.
When I am overburdened with stress or sadness, I come to our Enthronement. I just sit down and look upon the pictures. In the silence and dark, I feel the presence of Jesus. I can't see Him physically; I can't hear Him vocally. However, there is a certain feeling I receive every time I visit.
Visiting alone at our Enthronement reconnects me with Jesus. In my heart, I can tell Him about what happened that day. I tell Him what's bothering me, what I am excited about, and things that I still need to do. Sometimes, I sit and pray the Rosary, contemplating while gazing upon the picture of Mary.
No matter what is burdening me or bother me, each time I go there, I always leave feeling the same. In those quiet moments alone with Jesus, I forget all the stress and worries that had previously occupied all of my mind. I can let them go and focus on Him. I receive a new perspective on m problems. An overwhelming sense of peace overcomes me.
I don't travel far to my favorite place to pray. It is not necessary for me to drive somewhere. I don't need elaborate adornments or expensive objects. In a place as simple and ordinary as a family dining room, I discover what I had lost during my busy day. I find the love and care of Christ Jesus, our Lord. No matter where you are -- whether shrine, Church, or home -- where Jesus is present, serenity is found.
(Cassandra Miller, 17, is a student at Averill Park High School. She attends Sacred Heart Church in Troy. She is a winner of this year's teen essay contest, sponsored by The Evangelist. Teens were asked to describe their favorite place to pray. Five winners, selected from the hundreds of entries, appear in this special teen issue.)