I love you in the morning, and the afternoon, I love you in the evening, and underneath the moon...!

Early morning in the shrine. The world is waking up, the dew is fresh and the day is young. A whole unknown day awaits. I'm rested, awake, ready. The morning sun slants in through the glass, throwing bits of color on to the open tabernacle door, turning the white cloth that covers the adored Eucharist into a rainbow. The colors tint St.Michael's wings, blend in with the flower petals, and spatter across the alter. Old women are singing perfect harmonies, their light voices floating through the high notes.


The two guitars play off eachother's melodies
and weave into one sound. They sing in Spanish, Latin, even some Engish. The old men pray slowly, their deep voices saying each word carefully, quietly, yet with strength. The rhythm never changes. "Thy kingdom come, They will be done...give us this day our daily bread..." Early morning in the shrine.




Afternoon in the shrine. The sun is at its height, the ground is dry and the stone white steps are warm. The day is unfolding, the shrine, the house, the church are full of movement. The little colored windows are propped open to the breeze that flows through the shrine, carrying the sounds from within to the world outside. The doors never rest as people come and go: women, men, highschoolers and children, Ladies and priests...some coming to meet with their groups, to sit around tables over tea and to talk about the Trinity, the Blessed Mother; some come to hear talks, to plan retreats, to lead the younger groups; some come just to add a little prayer, silence, and sanctity to their busy day, to spend time with Mary in adoration of Christ. People, activity, variety, change, LIFE - all centered around this little holy place. Afternoon in the shrine.

Evening in the shrine. The sun sets and evening
falls. Daily mass just ended. The big white tent,
soon to be a church, was full of light against the dark night. The height of the day, the deepest hour of rest, joyful celebration and sweet consolation - this is the mass. You're unburdened, renewed, refilled, united. "Demos gracias a Dios." We all follow the priest as he processes out of mass to the shrine. The door is open and light spills onto the lawn, illuminating the faces of the people scattered across the steps, the path, the grass. We end in prayer together, "My Queen, My Mother, I give myself entirely to you, and to show my devotion to you, I consecrate to you this night my eyes, my ears, my mouth, my heart, my
entire self without reserve. As I am your own,
my good Mother, gaurd me and defend me as your
property and possesion. Amen." Evening in the shrine.

At last, late night in the shrine. It's full again, but now its older youth and university students that kneel in each little pew. There are late night adorations and rosaries at hours when only we are awake. The music fills the little chapel. Some songs are strong and full, that speak of mission, purpose, adventure, others are soft and poetic - the sweetest love songs between child and Mother, children and Father, friend and Friend. "Que silencio más delicado, amor del amor más escondido...Mar adentro contigo Señor, mar adentro contigo...Vamos a la luz, sin mirar atrás, corazón al servicio de Diós...You alone are my strength, my sheild, to You alone may my spirit yield, You alone are my heart's desire and I long to worship You."
The altar is overflowing with all that people have brought throughout the day - paper flowers and crowns, symbols from the different groups - and the little jar of offerings and petitions is overflowing. Far from supplications from undeserving adoring fanatics to an unreachable God through a distant Queen, they are little scraps of real, daily life: our work, joys, trials...all earthly things we return back to the Father who gave them to us...all earthly things offered up freely, to be transformed by Grace, into His fruitfulness. Grace that constantly welcomes, transforms, and commissions. "Nothing without you, Nothing without us." "Father after the day's burden and toil, we come to seek rest in You." At last, late night in the shrine.


And the most precious, rare thing of the day - hidden moments in the shrine. The steps are empty, the statue of Father Kentenich, Father of Schoenstatt, opens his arms in welcome. I creak open the heavy door - and breath a little sigh of relief and thanks - it's empty. Except, far from empty of course...I ease the door shut, kneel, and enter into the silent shrine...hidden moments in the shrine.












"Accept, O Lord, my entire freedom, my memory, my understanding, my entire will and my whole heart. You have given everything to me; I give everything back to You without reserve; do with it what You will. Give me but one thing: your grace, that I may joyfully submit to your wish and will; your love, that I may always believe, know, and sometimes even feel that I am loved as the apple of your eye; your fruitfulness, that in You and Our Lady I may become genuinely fruitful for our common task. Then I am more than rich, and will want nothing more. Amen."