Thursday, November 29, 2007

Dearest God,

I've got dust on my shoes. Dust from walking the spiritual path. Kicked up dust while walking toward you. I've got dust on my shoes.

I turned on the light in the utility room and found my brown hiking shoes. They've been sitting there for nearly two weeks. They're dirty and dusty from my time on the mountain. They need a cleaning. I'm not sure how to clean them. Not sure I want to.

I walked a few miles in those shoes. And they are a reminder of my time with you. Why would I want to knock the dust off?

I've got several reminders around me. Rocks from special places. Letters from an Emmaus Walk. Altar items from retreats. Journals of intimate writings on my faith experiences. Books. Pictures. And dust on my shoes.

I'm frequently reminded of my special times with you. I need only to see one of my mementos and I recall to mind my wondrous moments with you. At time warp speed I discover myself back at this place or that. I see and hear those pivotal events when an insight struck me, where I learned a new truth, when I confessed and received grace, where I fell at your knees at the all-encompassing love you gave me, when words came to me like a feather on the wind or music from chimes blowing in the wind, when you used me as a healing vessel for someone else, so many experiences of grace, spiritual gifts. Like dust on my shoes reminds me of my daily walks to worship, seven times a day, singing Gregorian Chants with the Psalms, thinking of the countless pilgrims who have walked the same road, praying, meditating, opening themselves to you, walking closer and closer. Monks, sisters, old people, young, hope-filled people turning to you in the desert of their lives.

I've got dust on my shoes, sweet, holy dust.

Holiest of Holiness,
I've got dust on my shoes.
Sweet, holy dust.
Dust from walking
the spirit path.
I've got dust on my shoes.
I've walked the rutty roads,
the washed-out roads,
the narrow roads.
Long, arduous roads
where I felt in peril,
sometimes lost my way.
I've got dust on my shoes.
Roads that went high
roads that went low,
roads that lead nowhere.
Until my road
lead me to you.
I've got dust on my shoes,
sweet, holy dust.

Love always, Andrea