Today we attended a luncheon and prayer service at a local mosque. A lovely experience–learning about the faith and practice of our Muslim friends. Bonny wrote a lovely summary of her impressions. I found the most provocative part of the visit was joining the women in midday prayer. We covered our heads with scarves, knelt on the lushly carpeted floor, and observed. The women’s space was far off to the side from the main mosque room. The men’s room was richly adorned with curtains, symbols, and the like. The women’s room was completely plain except for a small cupboard with some well-worn books stacked in haphazard piles and a small stash of folded white polyester headcoverings for women who’d forgotten theirs. From where we sat and stood, we couldn’t even see the speaker who voiced the prayers.
On the drive home from the mosque we encountered this cloud up ahead:
Then, as we got closer we saw this:
And then this:
And this older gent shaking whole bags of crumbs out of crumpled bags in his grocery cart. It was obvious that these birds knew this man–their numbers were far too large for this to be a chance meeting.
We circled around the block to watch this spectacle until it was over. He balled up the empty bags and headed down the street alone.
And John and I resolved that when we are old, we will feed the birds.
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