Tuesday, June 24, 2008

Dearest God,

Sometimes being lost isn't being lost at all. I thought we were on the right road to Abiquiu but I wasn't thoroughly convinced when I failed to see signs for the town where I was headed. I turned off the highway into a conference center. As I stood in the little booth with the woman in charge getting directions, I saw several busses arrive, loaded with kids. A 20 something young man was hoopin' and hollerin', talking to every bus. The woman told me that 1100 Baptist kids were spending the week there at camp. The young man came over to ask us if we were also new arrivals. I told him no but that we would pray for all the kids. "That would be great!" He said.

A charge to pray for young persons was on our minds as we headed up the 13 mile one lane dirt road to the monastery. I determined to drive all the way, even with the perilous spots which included no guard rails, high rises, and some badly rutted areas. Wanting to face my fear of heights, I wanted to offer you my gift of faith in the time of my fear. "One mile in!" I would call out to my flock. "Two miles in!" When we really had to climb, someone would say, "I could never have imagined a road like this."

Seeing the chapel rise high in the desert mountain, I told my four passengers, "You're home." Only one has ever been there before and she couldn't wait to return. A hush came over us because we had entered the silence of the desert, the place where God's voice can be heard above the bird calls and chapel bell ringing.

It is in settings such as this that I find myself incredibly awakened to the Spirit. I have traveled to so many places at so many times in so many ways, each of them speaking to me of spiritual things, but then one doesn't have to travel far to hear your voice speak. I know when I am standing in the midst of blessing and that is now.

There is something extraordinary about mountains, especially those made of sandstone and gympsum. Yearly the wind and weather ride its course making mesas out of mountains. And the mountains and mesas both speak the same language of creation.

Who can top this kind of experience? Only you, Lord, only you.

Amid the mesas
and mountains
I hear
your sweet whisper,
the song
of creation.
I am
so small here
and I acknowledge
your greatness.
I am astounded,
O God,
how nature
speaks your language
and they teach me
to speak it too.
Offering up
my devotion,
I remain
yours.

Love, Andrea