To get to the synagogue chapel one must cross a room that houses the synagogue nursery school program. Each morning, my eyes alight upon a different colorful crayon drawing of three -year olds.
Several days ago, on my way from morning prayer, I passed a glass cage, it's lights warming some eggs cracking open with the stirrings of little lives, beaks breaking open protective shells like sun rays of day break piercing the long night's darkness. Life was brewing.
I went by that spot again today, and my heart was graced by the vision of six little chicks, yellow puffs of softness, chirping under the watchful and grateful gaze of children and teachers, witnessing the wonder of life.
I commented to the nursery school director: "Perhaps each daily chapel worshiper should first make a pilgrimage to these peepers before our morning prayers."
Perhaps the peep of little chicks is the much needed prologue to make our prayers the songs of gratefulness they should be.
And now, when I begin my prayers, I thank God-"Modeh Ani"-for these little cheepers, chicks who form a squeaky chorus in a dark corner behind the doors of our synagogue chapel.
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