Sometimes we think of 'daydreaming' as something sort of inappropriate during Mass, but what if it’s actually an invitation? Today, I'm sharing how shifting our mental imagery can turn a restless hour in the pews into a profound encounter with stillness.
They say the mind is a wanderer, but have you ever noticed how some thoughts don't just pass through—they transport you?
One moment you are sitting at your kitchen table with a cup of coffee, and the next, a single mental image has carried you miles away to a memory, a dream, or a place of deep peace.
Mental imagery is more than just 'daydreaming'; it is a powerful vehicle that shapes our reality before we even step out the front door.
Our Saturday nights are sacred—filled with family movie marathons and late-night writing sessions for my contemporary romance manuscript. But shifting to an 8:45 AM Mass meant my love for a late-night 'feel-good' story was suddenly at odds with my desire to be punctual for God.
The Sunday Morning Rush
So the switch with the Mass time was something I had to consider very thoughtfully. I don't like arriving late at Mass. I do not like the uncomfortable feeling I would get because we got there late, even just by five minutes.
If it had gone beyond the five-minute range, we would go to the next one. It has been a habit for us. Well, we can’t be late for God, right?
Besides, I prefer to spend brief moments with God in silence before the Mass starts.
There were times when we got to the parking lot, and we just knew the Mass had already started that we turned around. Unless, there happened to be parishioners still finding a space to park, or we still see some getting through the door.
On such instances, of which there weren't too many, I rushed to apologize to God, and explain the late arrival—and then believing in my heart that God accepted it.
From Judgment to Grace
I really believe that God puts us in situations to better understand certain things, or circumstances.
I would use this example of people arriving late to church. Perhaps due to the fact that I want to be punctual that I get distracted by parishioners coming to Mass late. Sometimes arriving very late which begs the question if they knew the significance of the Mass.
Don't get me wrong, but I learned that in the order of the Mass where we all ask Jesus to forgive our sins—together as a community—pretty powerful. It takes care of our venial sins. We can't miss that. At least, we shouldn't.
"For where two or three are gathered together in my name, there am I in the midst of them.”(Matthew 18:20)
Now, this where I saw God teaching me...
Arriving late ourselves, allowed me to re-calibrate my thinking, in regards to parishioners walking in and the Mass has started five minutes, even fifteen or twenty minutes ago already.
I used to sit in the pew, distracted by those trickling in late, wondering if they understood the weight of the moments they missed. But God has a way of re-calibrating our hearts.
By allowing me to experience the frantic rush of a late arrival myself, He turned my judgment into a prayer of gratitude: 'Thank you, Lord, that they made it to where You wanted them to be.
Now, back to the core of this article—
Today, at church, we got there just before the Mass was about to start. During the singing of the 'Gloria, I ran this out-of-this-world imagery that perked up my singing, and that’s fair to say since my voice isn’t melodic.
I only sing at home and at church, by the way. I want to participate in the singing. I learned that singing at church is like praying. If that is so, then I'm all for it!
I have to share this one instance where in the middle of singing a fellow parishioner glancing over her shoulder with a 'cute' little smile . I knew it was about my singing.
Was she admiring my courage or my lack of a melody? Probably a bit of both. It requires a ton of it when you know your talent is one other than singing.
But I remembered that an earthly father doesn't care if his child's serenade is off-key; he just loves the song. Our Father in heaven is no different from an earthly Dad who marvels at the serenading of his children, regardless of whether they could carry a tune, or not. I sang louder.
A God-Incident in the Pew
Our Father in heaven is no different from an earthly Dad who marvels at the serenading of his children, regardless of whether they could carry a tune, or not.
Now back to that imagery I mentioned above. There I was, with that sweet smile that didn't want to fade—more like a little girl in a choir singing joyfully, but not in a way disruptive to the rest of the choir, Just happy that I got to be a part of it.
So what was that image that floated in my head behind that endearing smile?
Well, as the notes of the 'Gloria' filled the air, in that moment, in my head, the walls of the church seemed to have disappeared. And I was just standing in the company of celestial being, singing alongside them.
It was as if my imagination had become a vessel, bridging the gap between my earthly seat and my heavenly inheritance.
Pretty ambitious!
I know! But that's how it was to me. So, with that in mind, how could I not beam with a smile when everyone in heaven was happy singing it—like a prayer for the people still on Earth?
Pretty fancy, but hey—it is free to explore the heavens with the power of the imagination.
A Heavenly Invitation
The way I see it, it's like a magical vessel that we steer to wherever we want it to take us. Such as places that are otherwise a challenge to explore given the spatial limitations present in the physical realm.
It's like having another set of eyes allowing us to see beyond the confines of this world—like in the heavens, for instance, or at least close to what we think it could be like up there.
Yes, it's presumptive to claim that there's a place waiting for me in heaven, but why not?
Besides, I can't blame myself for conceiving that imagery because that wild imagining was then later validated during the recitation of the responsorial psalm:
"You are my inheritance, O Lord."
I’m so curious—where does your imagination take you when you need a moment of peace? Thank you for reading this! love to hear your stories in the comments below, or let's connect on Facebook!
Many blessings, Emilie
A Note from my Heart
I’m Emilie, a seeker of faith who finds God in the quiet pews and the divine surprises of everyday life. I write these reflections to invite you into a slower, more soulful way of seeing the world.