I'm sitting in a pew, still as the second hand sheds the seconds off the clock in my pocket. My heart is open. My hands clasped together ready for prayer. My body warmed by those who sit to my left. All of us, joined together in the dimly lit place we've been led to. And, as the music plays and heads start to bow, I begin to hear the echo silence makes.

My body begins to tremble a bit. My mind overwhelmed by the stillness that lingers in the air. Twenty or so bodies fill the place of worship—huddled together in an intimate setting. We mourn our savior, He who died for us on the cross. I've never been an overly religious person, only one for a spiritual path in life. But as I sit here in this pew, I begin to feel what others call the Holy Spirit.

The delicate hairs on my arms start to stand on end. I feel as though someone is touching my left shoulder. I kindly glance behind me but no one is there. I begin to think my mind is playing tricks on me, but I'm not scared. It's only when the temperature of my body starts to rise that I feel He is with me. A peculiar feeling folds in on my mind. I feel as though I'm being held.

I've only felt this feeling two other times in my life. Once when I was on a mission trip in North Carolina and the other at my grandfather's funeral. Both times, feeling the same as it does now. It's almost as if peace and the essence of home are being woven through the delicate fibers of my soul. When fear and anxiety are lost, being replaced with an overwhelming sense of love.

If silence was wrapped up in a ball, it would be bouncing off these walls that surround me. The stillness makes the beating of everyone's heart reverberate within my own. The soft sniffles of running noses, the tender hands clutching wads of tissue, the tears that pour from the welled-up eyes. Each intricate movement echoes under one roof. Each heart beating as one, mourning as one, waiting for the day He rises from the tomb.

I used to not be able to stand silence. The nothingness used to pierce my eardrums like shards of glass. But as I get older and gain the faith that is required for me to keep living with hope, I find that silence can be a great learning tool for us all. If in this world you find yourself uneasy—if you find yourself afraid and lonely, I'd tell you to just take one minute from your day to sit in compleate silence. For it is within this calming silence that we start to connect with our inner being. I've found hope in the echo that silence makes. I've found peace where it was least expected. And, I've found happiness in the contemplation I've starved my soul from for so long.