respice humilitatem nostram

Most sat with closed eyes, a few stood, and the children were unanimous in their silence.
One woman walked, tracing an oval around the rest of us, pushing a child in a stroller, slowly, and with a deliberation that matched that of all 40 voices emanating from the encompassing, unseen wall of sound. Mandorla.
She was closer to it than we were, already a part of its message perhaps, walking on the periphery of existence and closer to her death than the rest of us were to our own. But she pushed with her, before her, new life, as if to say to it: Spem in alium nunquam habui praeter in te.
And we encompassed: I hope that we too silently sang, respice humilitatem nostram.