Wednesday, November 15, 2006

Dearest God,

On Sunday evening I watched The Monastery, a reality show, on television. Immediately I was drawn back to my September days one year ago. On the first leg of my renewal leave I traveled up the 13 mile dirt road to enter the property of the Benedictine monastery located in the New Mexico canyons far from civilization.

I could feel the dirt under my feet as I remember walking up the path to the chapel and dining hall. I was able to hear the bell pealing, calling us to faithful worship. I recall singing the psalms and bowing during the Gloria. I remember setting at long wooden tables and high back chairs as the brothers served us our meals in silence. I brought to mind the spectacular midnight skies and cold, crisp Fall mornings. My mind is refreshed when I think of scrubbing my clothes in a wash basin, then hanging them in the hot, dry afternoons. I recollect standing by the rushing river, stunned by the exquisite beauty of the place. Digging into the past I can see the Milky Way for the very first time. I think back into that time and see myself and the few other visitors carrying our Coleman lanterns at dusk back to the guesthouse or into the bathroom where I would shower in the dark. I remember stuffing envelopes with Brother Luis, a Filipino, one who smiles easily and laughs often. I remember the surrender of my own heart.

The power of memory. Events that speak to the human soul, still stir reminiscence of Spirit life in an unfamiliar setting. I was taken there by God. And what happened there set the stage for a pilgrimage of a lifetime, one I shall never forget. Etched into my mind's heart.

During dark and lonely times I will remember the God of my faith who took me across the country to show me the world, calling for my own surrender and trust. My tears will return as I once again bask in the loveliness of God's love in the desert of New Mexico. However frail I will become God will turn back the time, taking me to this great change period in my life. Memory will restore, refresh me.

Those times when God is the farthest away are the times God is the closest, breathing holy air down our necks, whispering our name. But we have to be open to feel, to hear. We cannot always expect to experience God in the set ways of our lives. God cannot be restricted, contained in a holy box. Otherwise faith becomes stale, lifeless. God appears in ways we least expect it and in times when our minds are fixed elsewhere. God can pop up anytime, anywhere. Loving us.

The men on The Monastery are wrestling with questions of faith, love's loyalty, and trust. They are raking off the top soil of their existence to enter the subsoil of their faith. Striking the Rock of the Ages they are discovering the newness of each day, calling forth deeper and deeper answers. They are uncomfortable, sometimes afraid. They are listening, asking questions, expressing self doubt but they are continuing their quest.

Life is filled with such endeavors. We want to know the meaningfulness of our existence. We want to find our life's purpose and live it out in daily life. We want to know, or we want the world to know we once lived and died, etching history somewhere with our life. Meandering along the pathways of life do not hold much sway.

My heart is filled with gratitude to memory that still reaches into the depths of my spirit and pricks its way into the deepest part of my soul.

Glorious One,
with my shovel in hand,
I happily dig down,
deeper,
deeper,
ever deeper
to meet The Rock.
The journey is a surprising one,
revealing, always revealing,
uncovering the truth.
The air is so sweet
as I meet you
and know
I have found the treasure,
hidden away
just for me.
I am yours forever.

Love, Andrea