They set aside an hour each day for individual prayer or meditation.  They say that every member is required to do this.  We need to learn.  For this we gather in the hall.

We are to kneel on the floor a few feet apart.  Because we are beginners, we are allowed to lean or sit on a folding chair if we cannot kneel for the full hour.

We can meditate on what was read to us during the meals, or on scripture or something personal suggested by our leaders.  But this is not the time for reading, and books are not allowed.

At first, my knees hurt.

My mind starts to race with all the cruel things that they are doing.  I am so angry, but I don’t want to dwell on it.   I wish I could be busy in the laundry or the kitchen so that I can shut out the thoughts.

Eventually, I start to go away to that sweet calm place I discovered when I was eight, when I had escaped from Uncle Pedro and was hiding among the date trees.

The hour is over.   I feel serene.  I can’t say that I was meditating on anything or praying for something.   I wasn’t doing anything.  I was just there.

I think maybe another word says it better.  Contemplation.

Whatever they call this slot of time on their clipboards, I will have it to myself every day.  Just knowing that is a relief.