As Christmas approaches, I am reminded of a prayer experience I had on a solitary Christmas Eve walk last December. In the infancy of this blog, I shared an impression of that experience. I also wrote a rather lengthy journal entry with more details of the walk, and the gifts I received that day. Reading it over this morning, I decided I'd like to share some if it with you. And so I give you the first installment of "My Christmas Eve Walk" or for reasons you'll discover in later installments, "Mystical Me."
Christmas Eve 2004
Oh my God. Literally. I just went for a 2 hour Christmas Eve morning walk, and God was very present to me. God was everywhere and everything was in God. One of the deepest spiritual experiences I’ve ever had. Right up there with God breaking through on walks on the beach, but here it was the God of the everyday life of Portland rather than the majesty of the roaring ocean. I’m considering this experience my Christmas gift – the realization that all is gift, that God is always present, guiding me, inviting me, calling me to fullness of life. Is there anything more precious than that?
The first part of my walk was normal enough. Walking is truly a meditative exercise for me. With each step I get pulled deeper and deeper in. Thoughts are still there, but rather than petty thoughts they are deeper thoughts. The rhythm of the walk mirrors the rhythm of life and patterns emerge. This morning on my way to Laurelhurst Park, I found myself looking back on my life plans. Plans that were now essentially thrown out the window, as I found myself on a new path. A path where I realized that I could not make sense of it all on my own, that I needed God to take the lead. And implicit in that in turn was an acceptance of where God would take me, a willingness to follow, to open myself up, to trust. Surrender if you will.
Eventually that path led here. Here I am, knowing and embracing in my heart that I am called to religious life. There is still fear of the unknown, a reluctance to give up the life I’ve crafted for myself, such as it is, but day by day those fears and caveats fall away. So here I find myself exploring two communities of women religious. Feeling purportedly torn and confused, unsure which of these two (or if not them, who else) will be my community, the base of support from which I can safely and competently share my gifts with the world and for God.
This is where I was when I reached Laurelhurst Park – which for this walk at least became a Sacred Space. It always has been to some extent, these past few months especially. There is this one corner of the lake, with a park bench and branches reaching down that almost touch the water. I see that spot and my heart instantly calms. Cares and concerns drop away and I am at peace.
To be continued ... (read part 2)
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