It's been a really busy Sunday today. But there's still some energy left in me to recollect all that had happened throughout the day, and perhaps, offer it all up to the Lord.

Paradoxically, the highlight of my day was found this morning during a very silent moment. I was sitting at a chair just near the altar at the Sanctuary. It was a brief 45 minutes, and I was in between two Masses. I was seated there while awaiting the arrival of the godparents of a baby I was about to baptise. So I sat there silently whilst waiting.

And then, at the corner of my eye, I noticed a young teenage boy sitting over at another corner of the church where the pews were - he was kneeling in prayer. A young teenager, praying. Alone.

I know of teenagers who're in church because they're compelled to be there; I know of teenagers who love rowdy moments of what they call "Praise and Worship" (yup, those party-concert-type stuff); but I honestly hardly know several teenagers who find solace in quiet moments praying before the Blessed Sacrament. It's not that there are none, I'm sure; but they are few. Every glimpse I get of those like that excites me deeply.

God bless that brother. He has so encouraged my spirit. I know great things are in store in his life, because he's not a man dedicated to the following of the popular and the fashionable. He chooses to follow Christ the good old-fashioned way. And he will therefore find Christ like the saints of old did.

I'm not sure of his name, although I've greeted him a couple of times before during youth events. But I'm proud of him. Very proud. And I know Mother Church is too.