Once the crowd realized that neither Jesus nor his disciples were there, they got into the boats and went to Capernaum in search of Jesus.–John 6:24
I was in the crowd
sitting on that grassy hillside.
You fed us bread from heaven,
deliciously filled us
with all the love
we ever wanted.
Then you left.
How you got to the other side of the lake
is a mystery, and now
everyone is scrambling, setting out in haste
while I stand there frozen.
I find you
and lose you.
I find peace
and lose it.
I expand: arms out, soul free, floating on grace.
I contract: fearful, trapped in dark thoughts.
One moment, I’m on a hillside,
and the next, stranded on the shore.
One moment, breathing out fullness,
and the next, gasping for air.
Men help their wives and children into boats,
push off from the shore, then climb in,
while I remain behind,
envious and released from their energy.
I breathe out,
breathe in,
expand,
contract.
Oars and voices recede,
until I hear nothing but bird and breath.
In the stillness, I begin to
see what you see,
feel what you feel.
Tears gather in my chest.
In each expansion,
I fill every inch of you–
head to toe,
down your arms, wrists, hands
and tingle in your fingertips.
In each contraction,
I scrunch up into your heart,
burrow deeper than you could ever hope for or imagine,
and you smell my newborn hair
and cradle my tiny feet.
Healing comes less like a falcon
with mighty wings,
and more like an earthworm… tightening up,
then stretching out, tightening up
and stretching out …
Contract. Expand. Contract. Expand.
from How the Healing Comes by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer
An Everyday Pilgrim 