At my house, we sit in a circle of easy chairs to say our Evening Prayer, the eight of us in my local community.
Right now, we are praying what's known as the Christmas Novena. It's meant to be sung, but we are such reluctant and terrible singers, and the songs are so high, that we pray along with it as a group of very fine singers do it on a CD.
At the end of the prayer, they sing a haunting Gregorian Chant of the Ave Redemptoris Mater.
I look at the sunset and the twilight sky at 5PM as I listen. My mind goes back seven months to March, and Evening Prayer - sung in French- in our Motherhouse in central Paris.
It's seven or so hours later there, but still I see them.
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