Hidden Messages

As I walked around Mepkin Abbey during my last trip, I discovered some messages in not-so-obvious places.  Below, a painted rock, placed at the bottom of an iron support beam:

Here's another one:

It was a delight to discover them, like finding a sort-of secret message, something hidden, yet not hidden.  If I hadn't looked down, I wouldn't have seen them.  Yet once I did see them, they seemed obviously placed, one at the bottom of each column in the new retreat center.

It makes me think about how we move in the world.  How can our lives operate as a kind of secret, yet not completely disguised, sign that points others towards the love of God? 

In some ways, I'm asking how our lives can be a living sacrament.  Maybe thinking of our lives as sacrament feels a bit too close to sacrilege.  How could we possibly be similar to water, bread, and wine?

Can we be a kind of chair, partially hidden, a place where people can rest and catch their breaths?

Why hide in the tall grass of life?  So that we, too, have a chance to rest and catch our breath.