In elementary school, there was a small chapel I would always visit to pray. I would spend my entire recess and lunch breaks talking and crying to the image of Jesus on the cross. I would tell Him how lonely I feel and I would ask Him to help me pass my exams, achieve good grades, and realize all my dreams and aspirations.
On my last day, I went back one last time. I knelt, like always, in front of the small crucifix that had become so familiar. But this time, my prayer was different. I wasn’t asking for anything. I just wanted to say thank You.
Thank You for being there when no one else was. For listening to a little girl who felt invisible. For filling the silence with peace.
I cried again, of course. But it wasn’t the same kind of cry. This one had a strange mix of sadness and comfort—like I was saying goodbye to a friend who had been with me through every invisible ache and every quiet triumph.
Before I left, I whispered something I’ll never forget:
“I know I won’t see You here again… but I hope I can always find You, wherever I go.”
I stood up, took one last look, and walked out with a heavy heart but a little more light inside me.
And guess what?
I did find Him again—sometimes in the quiet of a morning, in the middle of a stressful day, in the kind smile of a stranger, or in those random moments where you feel held even if no one’s around.
Turns out, that little chapel wasn’t the only place Jesus could meet me. He just needed me to notice Him.
And now I do.
Every time life feels a little too loud or lonely, I remember that chapel, that moment, that Friend—and I know I’m never really alone.
