Photo by Craig Howell

By Tina Teng-Henson

On my run this morning, I turned into the gateway of the Catholic convent in my neighborhood. As I jogged down the leafy pathway, this thought crossed my mind: “I could always just abandon my husband and kids and become a nun…then I could really focus on serving God.” I imagined Beatrice and Peter visiting me at the convent once a year, watching them grow up from afar. Then I imagined myself crying in anguish, after each visit would end — overwhelmed with regret and remorse for having made that decision. I would miss watching them grow up far too much.

When I got to the sanctuary, I dipped my fingers in the holy water and made the sign of the cross, touching my forehead, chest, then crossing myself. I wasn’t self-conscious about this; years of friendship with Catholic brothers and sisters has made this feel natural and normal for me.

I didn’t realize there would be two dozen or so gathered there to pray at 7:10 in the morning, so I immediately turned to the left to be alone in one of the small anterooms.

There I immediately laid down, face down, arms out, atop the full-sized cross that was etched into the marble floor. I did this intuitively, and remembered that Anglicans or Episcopalians (or was it Orthodox priests?) were ordained to Christ’s service in this way. They lie down on the ground in front of everyone, face down, arms out, in cruciform fashion.  They, too, have died with Christ.  The cold marble was refreshing to my cheek, my arms, my legs, and I felt happy and at peace as I laid there and prayed.

Wordless prayer. The tumultuous events and emotions of the past two months coursed through my mind. So much unprocessed life. I laid there before God and was still.

The thought came to mind, “Muslims get to pray five times a day. Five times a day! How great would that be!!”  And I knew that there was nothing barring me from doing the same, but that my tradition, my practice, just hadn’t encouraged or invited that. But I wished it did.  I longed again for a deeper practice, a better tradition whose practice would bring life…

While I laid there, a bell rang, and mass began. Someone introduced another, a visitor from somewhere. I could hear his voice start the liturgy, then at some point, the people’s response, “and with your spirit.” Part of me longed to join in, another part of me wished my silence hadn’t been interrupted.

I sat up, and read the inscription carved into the wall. Entombed in this room was a woman named Agnes, the foundress and benefactress of this convent, who had started Carmelite convents in a number of other cities around the world, including one in Taiwan and one in San Diego. “She’s just like me,” I thought to myself, “except she didn’t have a husband and children to look after…” That’s probably why she could do all that she did. I did some mental math to calculate her age at death: 90. Ah-ha. That too.

Then I noticed I was reading this inscription, calculating the length of her life, on the exact anniversary of her death, June 7th. And that this was just one day before my birthday. Tomorrow, I would be 34.

When my time was done, I took advantage of a break in the service flow to duck out the doors. I ran back to our apartment, but sat on the steps just for a moment before walking upstairs to re-enter my world.

I could hear that baby Peter was awake, and I knew Beatrice would already be up and about. I opened the door, and Beatrice’s adorable little face lit up as she exclaimed, “Mommy!” I ran over to her to pick her up and cuddle her close and tight. I love hugging this kid. “Hi Peter!” I said across the room to my little almost-eleven-month old baby, adoring the way his little face crinkled up at me in a wide grin. He was so darn cute. I heard John from the kitchen greet me, welcoming me home, “How did it go? You were out for a long time…”

Tina Teng-Henson is the Director of Outreach and Family Ministries at First Presbyterian Church in the Silicon Valley. She has been blessed to learn + grow alongside so many different people, in so many places: Long Island, NY — Harvard College + the South End of Boston — Nairobi, Kenya and Lanzhou, China. Tina, her husband, and two children live in Santa Clara, California.