When I was alone with you for eight days,
there were moments I will never forget.

On the first day, there was the moment you said,
“Go ahead. Ask for what you want.” 
I asked to fall in love with you again
and felt my eyes water and my heart soften.

The next day, I was dancing with the headphones on 
and U2’s Landlady on repeat.
Tears streamed down my face because 
it was so true…
Every wave that broke me
Every song that wrote me
Every dawn that woke me
Was to get me home to you.

There was the moment I was the woman who reached out
and touched Your robe hoping to be healed.
Only I didn’t want to be healed, and I didn’t want to touch your robe.
I wanted to touch you.
So I tapped you on the shoulder.
You turned around,
and, when you saw me,
you embraced me like a long-lost friend.

Then there was the moment I was a baby on your lap,
and you played with my toes and smelled my hair. 
You told me you used to sneak into my crib
when no one was looking 
and hold me close and sing me lullabies.

There was that stormy day when you came to us walking on the water.
I didn’t get out of the boat to prove it was you;
I just wanted to be with you.
I stepped onto water as solid as a rock until it wasn’t,
and I sank fast 
as if I were paralyzed. 
I went down, down, down.
Then suddenly your arm was around my waist, and you pulled me to the surface.
Back in the boat, both of us sopping wet,
you were crying and hugging me.
“I thought I’d lost you,” you said.

There was the moment when I was brushing my teeth
and I remembered that time when I was twelve
and needed to be “taken down a notch.”
You remembered it too and said,
“I will NEVER do that to you.”

And then there was the moment
when You were on the cross.
You cried out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?
Why aren’t you saving me?”
Like every other human, you didn’t want to die.
And, like every other human, when God didn’t give you what you wanted,
you felt abandoned.
And that is an awful feeling.
So I helped you the way you help me when God feels far away.
I put my hand on your heart
and returned you to moments when you felt loved.
“Remember when you taught me how to pray…
… when we danced to U2 …
… when I tapped you on the shoulder?
Remember what you said
after you reached down from on high and drew me out of deep waters
and when you met me by the sink?
Remember how in each of those moments
I loved you back?
I’m right here, loving you still.”

(to be continued)

“Prayer,” said Mechthild of Magdeburg, “brings together two lovers,
God and the soul, in a narrow room where they speak much of love…”
― Evelyn Underhill, in the introduction to The Cloud of Unknowing

∗ ∗ ∗

Love Mischief for the World

I am grateful for Jesuits like Father Richard Soo SJ and the Jesuit Spirituality Apostolate of Vancouver for offering a variety of retreats so that people can have life-changing moments with God.

Thank you to William Manaker, SJ for directing me. From June 28 to July 6, he met with me daily, listened to what I was experiencing in my prayers and time in silence, and then assigned scriptures to pray with during the next four hour-long prayer times I would have before our next meeting.

I am grateful, too, to be offering space to others as they retreat with God in everyday life–formally or informally. Most of all, I’m grateful that God is as good and loving as I’d hoped, but more about that next week in Moments: Part 2. 

What love mischief are you and God doing for the world?
Let me know and I will include it in an upcoming post.

Credits and References:
“Reflecting Moments” by Thomas Hassel. Used with permission.
Bible references: Luke 11:1-13; Mark 5:25-34; Matthew 14:22-33; Psalm 22; Psalm 18:16-19.
Candle by Irene Fennema. Used with permission.
Droplet by Anne Yungwirth. Used with permission.

© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2023.
The unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without permission from Esther Hizsa is prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used provided there is a link to the original content and credit is given as follows: © Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim 2013-2023.  http://www.estherhizsa.com