I prayed in the streets.

Today I set off on a walk that had no purpose. It had no destination, no route, nor set pace. I just wandered. And if I didn't live so sporadically I would have never have met Jose on the shores of Rhine River. He wasn't alone but he was the only one I spoke to, the language of the others was song and dance. The group of Roman Catholics hailed from Barcelona and had been traveling throughout Europe on a pilgrimage for God. I'm not sure where they were off to but from the conversation, which was all Spanish, I understood that on every Sunday they would dance and sing through the streets the city they found themselves in. I didn't know of any church, and if I did I wouldn't have know the times of mass, so I traveled with them for hours, stopping here and there to play a new song and dance the simple left, right, twirl in the circle we all formed. I've gone to church on this trip a few times but making the streets and the plazas a place of worship was a new medium of praising for me. The energy they had was unmatched by anyone in Dusseldorf, except maybe the cyclists that raced around the track laid out in the town for a major race. As we made a turn around the boardwalk I could hear the sounds of another group, and as if it had been all choreographed they joined us, as we did them, and the group, now exponentially larger, continued the dance. The love for life that they all had, the exuberance, was overpoweringly refreshing. I have to tell you, that was the closest to God I have ever felt bar none, and it was in the streets. I guess that's only proper though. We made churches to praise the Lord but God made the outdoors and the people to prove he was worth praising. Why not bask in his glory and creations when giving him your devotion?