Wednesday, November 14, 2007

Dear God,

I begin each day in darkness and I watch for first light, witnessing the day come to life on the mountain. I imagine my own self awakening in darkness and being opened to the light. I want every day of my life to be an awakening to your light. Yet, I ask myself how can I be pure of heart so that I will be conscious of myself in you. How can I wander each day completely and totally aware of you? I want this more than I want anything. Even when I am with others, I desire to be conscious of you.

Yesterday a man asked me, "Is this your first time here?" Although I was practicing silence, I answered him. "I came two years ago for the first time." "Did you feel like running?" He asked me. "Yes." I replied as I walked away, praying for him.

Two years ago the desert mountain taught me to run...run toward God. I still wear my running shoes. Sometimes I still want to bolt and run. When things get too close to my weak places, I want to run. When my heart is pierced, I want to run. When I am misunderstood, I want to run. When I sin, I want to run...away.

What astounds me, what is a great mystery to me is that while I'm running I hear your voice in the distance. " Come home, child, come home...to me." I know your voice. My face drops in shame. My sin is compounded when I turn away. But your voice calls out again. "Come home, child, come home."

Eventually, I turn toward the sound of your voice. At the first sign of your presence I cry out my suffering. And you welcome me home. There you speak your truth for me.

There are secrets hidden in the desert, I am discovering again and again. Mysteries, sacred mysteries for those silent seekers, pilgrims in search of greater truth, wisdom. When a soul's door is closed, no mystery can be obtained. A closed door is a closed door. How many times have I closed my soul's door to you?

The desert mountain, its silence, its spirits urges, encourages, inspires. Its voice gets inside your skin, creeps ever so gently into your heart and soul. You, O God, are the voice of the mountain.

Holy One,
speak and the mountain
sings out your praise
and I bow down
in thanksgiving.
"Be still,
my child,
and listen
to the God of the Ages,"
you say.
"Open your heart
to me.
Let me sing out
my love
for you.
Let me reveal the secrets
of the mountain.
Let me
tell you
the sacred mysteries.
Listen and obey.
Listen and obey
the word of the Lord."

Humbly your child, Andrea