May Your light bathe me always
(lighting my path, warming me
the symbol of Your Love and Care)
May the wind blow gently upon me
May Your Spirit flow around
and within me
May Your River of Life flow through me
(to a world in need of refreshing,
in need of Your Love)
May the quiet of the Center
Radiate outwardly in peace
(and peace, make concentric circles
encompassing more with each radiation)
May I know Your Love and
share it in return
The poetry a whisper
and a call.
- October 2023
Occasionally, I find a rock on its side and as I walk, I resurrect it, but today, chaos reigned in the labyrinth. The garden stakes, acting as guides to the nautical rope and helping the rope maintain its course, raised themselves high as if considering a strike. The lunations on a quarter of the circumference lay strewn to one side or the other, sometimes obstructing the path or opening it to the vagaries of the back yard. The rocks normally standing at attention in the labyrinth's opening (and closing) prostrated themselves to the ground, many with mud, worms or ants already making homes in the newly found shelter.
A gift of labyrinth walking presents itself in metaphor (yes, I meant to wordplay). For those who teach others how to walk the path, they encourage the walker to pay attention to what occurs during the walk, e.g., Scripture that comes to mind, what art/stain glass/music happens to be within eye/ear shot, does some event take place, etc. Once a butterfly stepping stone became of Word from God for me. Upon seeing the butterfly with wings made of chunks of broken tile and colored glass, God said (in a I-just-know-it-was-God-and-not-me-way), "Your brokenness will be your path to flight." At that very moment, the phrase became one of my life's mantras.
So today, with the plethora of discombobulation on the path, I pondered how it might be interpreted. At the time, I considered the day: Not a banner one - not enough sleep, sensing a deep desire to modify much of my life plan (read: crawl-out-of-my-skin-in-discomfort "deep desire") and a growing sense of dread for a project whose deadline looms (read: likely reason for my deep desire to modify my life plan). I kicked myself for any number of reasons, which eventually led to my assuming the metaphor of the "disarrayed path" somehow reminded me of the necessity to care for my spiritual life and my work life by taking one step at a time, repositioning/reordering the practices of my life and bit-by-bit getting everything back on course. A fair interpretation and not completely incorrect. . .
Then I engaged in a lectio divina practice tonight on Psalm 121 (posted below for your own practice, if you'd like to join in) and the phrase which stood out for me was "The LORD is [my] Keeper," keeping me from all evil, keeping my life, keeping my going out and my coming in forever more. Yes, I have the ability to exert some influence on the path I walk, but the LORD is my Keeper and the Keeper of my path - even when I knock all the rocks around and rip up the rope myself. This is Love doing what Love does - holding us all the days of our lives.
PRACTICE
Lectio Divina: Read the following passage through after a few deep breaths and pay attention to any word or phrase which sticks out for you. Read through again and pay attention to anything further you notice about the word/phrase and how it applies to you. Read through again and spend time in prayer with the word/phrase asking God what you need to understand/know/do with the word/phrase (i.e., How might God be guiding you? What needs your further action? Where may your understanding need to be changed or expanded? How may this impact your relationship with someone else?). End with a time of thanksgiving.
Psalm 121
1 I lift up my eyes to the hills—
from where will my help come?
2 My help comes from the Lord,
who made heaven and earth.
3 He will not let your foot be moved;
he who keeps you will not slumber.
4 He who keeps Israel
will neither slumber nor sleep.
5 The Lord is your keeper;
the Lord is your shade at your right hand.
6 The sun shall not strike you by day
nor the moon by night.
7 The Lord will keep you from all evil;
he will keep your life.
8 The Lord will keep
your going out and your coming in
from this time on and forevermore.
Dad and I share coffee in the mornings while Mom drinks her Boost. Jeno and I go for walks along Little Shades Creek behind the property, then up along the ridge line of Vestavia Hills. Our rescue, the Maltese named Riley, has grown in to a veritable therapy dog – his love for love softening everyone he meets. Work remains fulfilling, as the people in front of me find space and freedom to air deep concerns or hidden secrets – leaving them lighter and more hopeful.
Thanks to Richard Rohr’s book, Falling Upward, I’m looking at my return home to Rocky Ridge through the lens of the Odyssey with its wandering and return, attempting to see how all the pieces of my life are grace. My vision’s not so great, but if God shows up in anything, it is this beam of truth: everything is grace.
Going on 16 years ago, my wanderings took me to a Catholic retreat center in North Carolina. St. Therese, the Little Flower, was its patroness. A labyrinth lay just beyond the dorm, scattered trees encircling it. I walked the labyrinth with urgency since I wrestled with returning back South, and particularly to Memphis, TN. I had left the South 3 years earlier and, in that time, faced some of my own demons from childhood. I felt broken and utterly confused about why now was the right time to come back. I had not wanted to return and tried my best to stay in Berkeley, but all the doors closed.
I poured my heart out as I walked in one orbit then in retrograde, in-toward-the-center-and-away-again, on the serpentine path to the middle of the labyrinth. As I stepped into the quiet center of that particular system, I saw it: a singular stepping stone imprinted with the shape of a butterfly, its wings filled with the shattered glass from some imperfect past. Then imperceptibly the thought came, “Nothing is wasted. What has been your wounding will be your path to flight.” Then the tears and gratitude of hope.
I met Jeno in Memphis – a conduit of love and grace that I could never have dreamed or imagined, but God could and did. And here we are, in Birmingham, back at ground zero. I’m trying to envision how all the pieces are being formed into wings – the pleasant, the difficult, the indifferent. Some days the evidence shines, some days not so much, but I believe the hope discovered on the path and I trust the Love with all the unbelief that remains. As a prayer to St. Therese says,
“Little Flower, give me your childlike faith,
to see the Face of God
in the people and experiences of my life,
and to love God with full confidence.”
May it be so, God. May it be so.
(11.2020)
Picture from https://www.littleflower.org/st-therese/who-is-st-therese/
It is not finished -
this journey,
the discovery of
my vision, my path, my way
It is more labyrinthine:
Twisting one way,
then another
doubling back, crossing over, seeking its way to
The Center
of all things –
the space of reflection,
a primordial beat of life.
A circle, yes.
An image, yes.
A metaphor of winding,
turning, resting, returning.
The Path
holds us all.
My path, where
any direction is
The Right Direction
for it is the way
laid out for me.
I cannot stray.
(10/23/22)
Photo credit here. Eastern Angel Blow upon this sea Thick with reeds And re-create Dry land from Water’s depth So all of us Living in capt...
