Morning Walk

Wisps of mist hang like guardians over the wet meadow. Were my arms long enough, I would reach out and touch their dewy coolness, so close are they to the earth.

Nature's green is vibrant this morning, made deep by the gray filter of the overcast sky. So intense is the color, my eyes almost hurt.

Last night we went on a walk near a small marsh full of reeds and red-winged blackbirds. Dozens upon dozens of these creatures sang in the dusk as they swayed on thin stalks, vermilion shoulders bright against black bodies. There was a cacophony of noise from the birds's distinctive, almost mechanical sounds filling the air. It was mesmerizing.

The red wings are here this morning on the path at the foot of the meadow, adding their anthem to the music of little finches flitting from tree to tree. On some mornings doves, woodpeckers, and an occasional hawk or bluebird add to the chorus, but on this one two tones complete the symphony.

Such is my ritual before work: immersing myself in nature before I start the day. A short walk through the kingdom of the wild stills me before I sit within man's domain, where swaying trees beckon from beyond  glass panes until I step out on the path again.

Filling Holes in Vain

How vainly we try to fill the holes that have been blown wide in our hearts! You, truly, are the only antidote to emptiness. Yet I find myself chasing bubbles. Comfort from these false gods is stretched thin; it betrays in the end, empty as vapor.

May He who filled the universe with swirling galaxies be the one to fill my heart.

Merry Christmas!

I attended a parish out of town for Christmas Mass this morning; it was a big church, old and beautiful, with many seats, yet it was very crowded. I entered the church alone, but once I was within I was surrounded by fellow pilgrims, all come to worship Christ. When the first strains of "O Come, All Ye Faithful" began, I found that I was overcome, so much so that I couldn't join in singing the opening hymn. Tears sprang to my eyes for the glory, the majesty, the sheer awesomeness of it all. Though the magi made their journey to see Him more than two millenia ago, people still gather to marvel at His birth. And who am I that I should be among them? I know not why God has wooed me to Himself. I can only be thankful that His gentle presence was with me from earliest childhood, though I didn't know His name... and that He led me into the waters of baptism as a teen... and that I am here now - amazingly! - as part of His Church. I pray that through His continued grace, I will always seek Him like the magi, and that He will be welcome to make His home in my heart like the humble manger where He lay so many years ago.

Just a Note about the Post Below...

Just after I posted about being adrift, I spent time reading "The Sacrament of the Present Moment" (also known as "Abandonment to Divine Providence") and found a similar analogy used in a positive way. We are encouraged to be at peace while God directs our raft; being in a time of waiting is good. I like that. :)

Lean Not Unto Your Own Understanding

It is good that God does not expect us to understand each nuance of our journey with Him; if he did, I'd be lost. I am in a spiritual "holding dock" right now, moving neither forward nor backward, just waiting to see what God will do next. Perhaps it is like the safe, secure darkness of a womb, with birth pending but unseen. I like that analogy; it's very positive.

It may be my overly busy schedule that is keeping me from "feeling" God as I normally do. Or perhaps it is the calm after a great, stressful storm, and I am allowed to float free on my raft without wind, at least for a time. I am not in the doldrums exactly (pictured at left), but I'm not moving forward either.

But this will pass. Perhaps I just need a spot of rest. For now I will fall back on His wings and let Him fly. I'll relax like a feather in the wind.

Seeing a Gift

Lord, how can I thank you for what you have done?

As I slowly moved into consciousness this morning, God made me aware that a significant prayer request, one that has been on my heart for well over a year, has been answered. It's funny that I didn't see it - at least not completely - till now, though God made it real some days ago.

Sometimes He does big things quietly, in a very humble way, such as when the King of Heaven stepped into our time and space in a stable. We must have faith that He is working in our lives, even when things do not seem to change. Who knows what small, imperceptible things are moving below the surface to be revealed at a later time? My prayer has been answered. Quietly. Beautifully. Perfectly. And for this, gratitude rises in my chest like a sweet, warm tide.

Thank you, Lord, for what you have done.

Doing His Will

I attended a women's retreat many years ago and the speaker said something that has always stuck with me. She advised that if things aren't going well for us spiritually - perhaps we're just not connecting with God - we should look back on the last thing God asked us to do to determine if we've done it. While walking through a spiritually dry or difficult place is not always the result of disobedience, oftentimes it is, and it's good to discern whether that's the root cause of the struggle at hand.

For some time God has been nudging me toward a change that I've been resisting; till now, that is. I was concerned about letting others down and I was clinging to a stubborn hope that things would get better. My lack of action caused me to feel inreasingly distant from my Source. It took a toll on my day-to-day walk with Him - even affecting my faith in some areas - and that was tough! I didn't connect the two, though, until the speaker's advice rose to the forefront of my consciousness. I realized that the spiritual weight I'd been carrying was a direct result of my resistance to His direction. That resistance was rooted in a lack of trust; otherwise, I would have immediately said yes to His request.

I am now breathing a figurative sigh of relief. It's always better to do His will. I feel I've gone from darkness into light, and the air I'm breathing is far fresher on this side!