
In the quiet chapel, where stained glass whispered stories of saints and sinners, I find solace. My footsteps echo, a rhythmic cadence that matches the beat of my heart. Each pew holds secrets—some whispered, others shouted in prayer or lament. But today, I carry a unique burden, one that weighs upon my soul.
The man in Room 157, his pain etched into the grooves of his hands, recounts a symphony of suffering. Neuropathy, like discordant notes, reverberates through his bones. The veins spared, but the leg’s grand artery—the highway of life—removed. A relic of 2000, yet it still throbs, a silent hymn.
And then, the hip—broken twice, a testament to resilience. Laughter spills from his lips, a bittersweet melody. “A big challenge,” he says, and I nod in agreement.
He traces his spiritual journey—a Baptist once, now a seeker. In 2002, California’s prison walls held him. There, he met a Muslim—a fellow traveler on this winding road. Conversations flowed like hymns, prayers interwoven with shared doubts.
“I accept the Muslim,” he tells me. “Sometimes my prayers stumble, seeking better footing. The mosque beckons, a challenge to return.”
His eyes, galaxies of faith, hold both love and struggle. “Physical love,” he says, “makes worship harder. But God—whether Allah or Jesus—knows no boundaries. In 2003, a stroke blurred my vision, yet I seek clarity.
In the California choir, I strummed my guitar, harmonizing with souls. The Bible, once my compass, now shares space with the Quran. Walls crumble; God remains.
And prayer—the universal tongue. It heals not only the spirit but also the body. Worries find solace in whispered conversations with the Divine. “Anytime,” I assure him, “God listens. All the time.”
As I leave Room 157, the man’s voice lingers—a psalm of endurance. The chapel absorbs his melody, and I hum along, knowing that faith transcends labels.
In the quiet corridors, I carry his song—a harmonious blend of brokenness and healing. And somewhere, in the vastness of the universe, angels lean closer to listen.

Leave a comment