Crumbs of souls, crumbs of love, crumbs of true faith. Texts that fragrance with candle wax, incense, and Easter lilies.

Whispers, without voices. Muted, without fanfare and pretentious melodramas. As real as a mother's tear, a sick person's groan, the lament of the persecuted. As bright as a child's smile, the hope of the believer, the joy of the healed.

Reading them one after another, leaning over their sorrows and joys, empathizing and experiencing alongside them these humble snapshots of their lives, we see them as an infinite wholeness that can encompass us all.

We become part of this wholeness, so that the crumbs become bread, the souls become Church, and the Church becomes Christ. A Church full of miracles that take place secretly within our hearts. Miracles known as "Love".