It was one of those glorious autumn days when the maple trees I had planted from tiny seeds had reached their full brilliance. Sunlight filtered through the golden leaves, filling the woods with a warm, quiet glow.

Standing beneath them, I was reminded of walking through great forests where the trees seemed to form a living cathedral overhead.

So I decided that, for a little while, I would give myself a gift.

Today, this would be my cathedral.

I stepped into the quiet, letting the sunlight and leaves settle around me. There was nothing to accomplish, nowhere to hurry. Just the gentle stillness that only nature seems able to offer.

As I looked around, I realized I wasn’t the only one who had come.

A brilliant cardinal sat quietly among the glowing branches, as if he, too, had arrived for the service.

Neither of us spoke.

We didn’t need to.

Some cathedrals are built of stone.

Others begin with a handful of seeds and a willingness to be still.