Thursday, July 12, 2007

Dear God,

Early this morning we drove to Parson's Beach. Our task was to "open" ourselves, to open the vessel that each of us has been assigned. Opening our body, mind and spirit to you, Most High, to sit at your feet, to walk the spiritual path, to empty our spiritual receptacles of undesirables, to make ready for your appearance.

As we walked up the sandy hill, we caught our first glimpse of the ocean together. The sun's rays kissed the water. The waves rose and fell. Sea gulls caught the lift and soared overhead. You were waiting.

We scattered, all eight of us. Dee wanted to dance with me so she remained close by. But all the others moved away, down the beach, some to the craggy rocks, others down the smooth walk embedded with pebbles washed ashore. We found our way.

I danced to your heart's content. "I long for you, O Lord, with all my soul, I thirst for you." A song sung 25 years ago by the Damiens came to me and I moved to offer my devotion. I hummed and danced, danced and hummed. Breathing in the ocean air cleansed my soul from within. I love to dance my praise.

When it was time to leave, I stood atop the hill, a sign to all the silent pilgrims that it was time to depart. But Jane left her chair and walked in a different direction. I watched as she walked, at first life size, then as she walked further, in my sight she became smaller and smaller. And the insight that came to me was the distance, near and far that I am from God. The farther she walked, the smaller she became until she turned and came back to life size. How many times have I walked away and God seemed so far away. Other times I have walked straight into your arms, so close, I could feel your heavenly touch. The story of my life, near and far, far and near.

What joy I felt as I observed the women drinking in the living water.

You are living water,
Great God of creation.
We are thirsty
and you offer drink
from your own well.
And we are well women
looking for water.
Every part of my being
is thirsty
for you.
Quench my thirst,
the thirst of all the women.
Give us living water
so we shall never again
be thirsty.

Loving you, Andrea