Every second of the search is an encounter with God…When I have been truly searching for my treasure, every day has been luminous because I have known that every hour was a part of the dream that I would find it.
- The Alchemist
Everything tastes to [her] of God, and God forms himself for the [wo]man out of all things.
- Meister Eckhart
This is Part 2 of a series. You can read Part 1 HERE.
Back in January, I was going through a real searching time, both in my identity and in my faith. In order to get some space for myself to think and breathe and journal, I made plans to stay overnight at a Sisters of Benedict Monastery in our area. I had never done anything like this before, but remembered reading a book in college about monasteries, and since that time had an attraction to such a place as a haven for rest. Known for their generous and simplistic hospitality to guests, Benedictine monasteries often have guest-housing for very little cost. With the help of a friend, I found such a place close by us, and made arrangements to stay. Tony and our kids dropped me off and picked me up, so I didn’t have a car to tempt me to drive away during my 24 hour stay.
I was tempted to do two things that weekend. One, entertain the rebelliousness I was feeling and buy a pack of cigarettes and smoke away the accumulating stress and anger. Two, take a laptop and work on writing a book that was brewing in me. Thankfully, I didn’t end up doing either. What I sensed God saying to me was, you’re just going there to “be.” To sit with yourself. Not to do anything. Just to move slow. Observe. Drink it in. Live. Breathe. Be.
I was blessed with record warm temperatures for January. Not only was it warm, it was sunny and blue skies, and I spent every ounce of daylight outside. When we arrived at the monastery, which was by itself in the country, I was warmly greeted by a woman in a sweatshirt and jeans (not typical nun attire.) I relaxed into the comfortableness of the atmosphere. Her white short hair and slightly bent form made its way across the lawn to welcome me. Her name was Sister Rita Claire. She quickly became my favorite of the women there. I think it had something to do with her whispered giggly confession to me that she would not be able to join me and the other women for prayer that night because she was going horseback riding.
From the moment my family pulled away and Sister Rita Claire completed a short tour of the property, I felt God swooping in to romance me. I still get chills thinking of how loved and alive and tingly I felt at that moment. This was no 5-star resort. It was simple, and yet to me, it was breathtaking. Everything called out to me. Called out to my heart. “Take notice. Someone is trying to communicate with you.” It was no coincidence that Sister Rita Claire left me to explore with these parting words. “Look for God. You’ll find Him. He’s in everything.”
And so began my 24 hours of noticing the details, and the Divine’s presence there in:
In the guest house, there was a small library in the living room. Within minutes of looking my eyes landed on a book by a mystic whose work I had been longing to read. I read passages from this book throughout my stay.
I adored my simple bed with sweet smelling mismatched linens and a lamp above my head for reading. I felt a bit mismatched in my own skin, and so instantly recognized this as a safe place.
This painting of a woman hung on my wall, and her posture reminded me of what I must look like internally. Extremely guarded, but still searching with longing & hope.
In my bedroom I also found a book by my bed with this inscription:
Wasn’t this why I was here? To remind my heart of beauty, to make my peace with mystery?
And my bathroom walls held this prayer as a gentle reminder that God has other names then the familiar name of “God” and He can be found in more places then the tiresome places I’ve been told I must look for Him.
There was so much artwork at the monastery. What a welcoming surprise that was for me.
It was good for me to see maternal images, as I was really struggling to see God as someone who could appreciate the feminine qualities in me and even nurture them into a healthy expression. Someone who could appreciate my need to connect to life emotionally, passionately and with a capacity for great beauty.
This was by far my favorite piece of artwork. A softer side of Jesus. A side that might actually have the capacity to hold me despite all the guilt religion has strapped to my body, like a self-detonating bomb. I was overcome with emotion when I came upon this piece. I want to know love like that from you God. I want you to delight in me, even as I wander in lostness sometimes. Somehow I was able to see this piece apart from the icky, ooey, gooey marketed Christianity I had come to loathe. I’m so thankful for the artist that broke down a few walls for me, by carving out such a loving facial expression.
Outside was gorgeous. When I first arrived I spent time walking through a meditation labyrinth. It was a great way to help me slow down my pace. I couldn’t believe how hard it was for me to slow down. The speed we travel at day-to-day is truly numbing. I felt like weaving the labyrinth helped me detox and enjoy my stay more.
There were words to remind me to encourage my artist’s heart AND convince me it was okay to be in a place in my life with more questions than answers.
Meals were simple. I ate supper with the Sisters, but made breakfast and lunch for myself with food they provided. I am unsure what made the meals so enchanting. My only explanation was that my pace was unhurried and my senses were acutely alive. I have never delighted in a hard boiled egg and cup of tea like I did that morning. I felt like royalty. Like too much good had been bestowed upon me. I tried to explain this to Sister Rita Claire at one point, and even she seemed a bit surprised by my fervor, though she welcomed it. I realize in typing this there is more to yet unravel here for me.
I spent a lot of time laying in the dry, brittle grass and writing about my own dry, brittle feelings. God met me in the fields on those pages. And by met me, I mean, I felt no need to edit my words. I found freedom and even support in being authentic.
While I was waiting for Tony to pick me up I flipped through a book about an artist. I loved reading the stories about him and found his sketches to be whimsical. Not only was the Divine in this gift, but also months later, when I would find another gift in the mail. My mom, knowing nothing about my trip or my discovery of this artist, would send a used book in the mail with some of this artist’s illustrations. God’s reminder to me of my peaceful retreat where I was met and loved in my mess.
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I find myself a little less rushed after reading this! I hope this peace stays with you for a very long time. Yep, he is in so much
If we only had eyes to see….
ohmigoodness. this resonated with me…so much of your experience moved me to tears. thank you.
I love the statue of Jesus smiling with the lamb and what you said about it. It’s how I feel about my children. Of course it’s how He feels about His!
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