Resurrection Is Personal

Posted on April 20, 2025 by Esther Hizsa

Resurrection 
isn’t just about living forever.
It’s about living now
and how we pick up our cross,
go through death
and become
a new revised version of ourselves.
Resurrection is personal.

I remember the Easter I entered the tomb
after denying Christ in me three times.
Three times I was Judas.

I can go through periods of time
when I’m the beloved disciple
people want to be around
and wonder if the part of me
that can be so insensitive
so unkind
so hurtful
has finally died.
I want to believe this shiny new me
is here to stay.

Then the dreaded thing happens
again, and again, and again,
and I realized that
the transformation I desire is not happening.
It likely never will.

I spent three days in darkness
letting go of the hope
that I will learn from my mistakes,
and finally become
the person I wish I could be.

In the light of dawn,
a new thought emerged from the tomb.

I wondered
what it would be like
to love that dark part of me
even when other people can’t,

to stand with her when she feels the pain she caused,
hold her when she sees her mistake,
and forgive her
seven times seventy times,

to release her from the expectation
that this can never happen again.

And now I know.
Now I know
peace.

 

Credits and References:
“Resurrection of Lazarus” by Andrey Mironov 2011, CC licence via Wikimedia Commons
“Resurrection Is Personal” by Esther Hizsa, first published April 17, 2022, revised in 2025.
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2025.
Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without permission from Esther Hizsa is strictly 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 2013-2025.  http://www.estherhizsa.com
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Scheduling a Time to Grieve

Posted on April 19, 2025 by Esther Hizsa

I told my spiritual director
about the deep grief
that overwhelmed me after my surgery
and my grief returned
quietly with tears.

We listened
–You, my spiritual director and I–
to that tender part of me
and heard
what was lost,
how it felt,
and what it feared.

After a while, I sensed it felt
comforted and
safe again.

“What do you need,” I asked my grief.

“To live closer to the surface,
to be more easily heard,
and felt,” it told me.

I had said to my brother
when I got home from the hospital,
“I suppose it’s a gift to experience this.
It’s not like you can schedule grief in, say
on Tuesday at four o’clock, I’m going to have a good cry.”

No, we can’t schedule it in
but I can listen for grief gently knocking,
notice the wisps of tears
forming in my chest,
and take a moment to gather them in
like a hen gathers her chicks
instead of brushing them away
like unwanted crumbs
with tidy, hopeful admonitions.

No, we can’t schedule grief in,
only welcome it when it comes,
and be with it so it isn’t all alone.

But if we could schedule a time to grieve,
it would be today,
Holy Saturday,
that long, painful day between
Your dying and rising.

Today is the day for
gathering chicks
and letting tears fall.

Credits and References:
Scheduling a Time to Grieve by Esther Hizsa, 2025.
See the post on April 11 The Healing Power of Compassion for the back story to this post.
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2025.
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 2013-2025.  http://www.estherhizsa.com
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This Good Friday

Posted on April 18, 2025 by Esther Hizsa

Crucifixion by Ukrainian artist Natalya Rusetskain

You take in all our suffering
feel
every violent act 
every hope destroyed
each final breath.

From the cross
you see
through our denial
and delusions.
No justification dares return your gaze.

From the cross
your eyes
find ours.

In them, we see
love
forgiveness
God with us
always.

You see
the seed of yourself
in us

and call us forth
to live
and love
the world
you died for.

Credits and References:
Crucifixion by Ukrainian artist Natalya Rusetskain. Used with permission.
“This Good Friday” originally published April 15, 2022.
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2025.
Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without permission from Esther Hizsa is strictly 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 2013-2025.  http://www.estherhizsa.com
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The Healing Power of Compassion

Posted on April 11, 2025 by Esther Hizsa

I awoke after surgery 
expecting pain
and discomfort
but I didn’t expect
a hidden grief
to break free, 
rise up and
overwhelm
me.

In that moment,
I knew,
as solidly as I knew anything,
I needed
a hand to hold–
a friend who
understood
to stay with me
in this cyclone
of sadness.

“I need you for a minute,”
I texted my friend.
“Here now – yes,” she answered.
So, I called.
She listened–
held me
and all I was feeling–

and the healing power
of compassion
eased my soul.

Lean on me when you’re not strong
And I’ll be your friend.
I’ll help you carry on...
We all need somebody to lean on.
–Bill Withers

Credits and References:
Image of a cyclone from Picryl Creative Commons.
The Healing Power of Compassion by Esther Hizsa, 2025
Image of sky after a storm from PxHere. Creative Commons.
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2025.
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 2013-2025.  http://www.estherhizsa.com

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Known

Posted on April 4, 2025 by Esther Hizsa

I am made of the earth
and of its Creator
flesh and spirit
human, divine
impermanent and eternal.

I will die
and before I die
I will have died and risen again
hundreds of times.

On the Saturday
between Good Friday
and Easter Sunday,
I lay awake in the tomb
and contemplated my death.

My body will die
but my spirit will not
and yet, I will need my mind
(which is part of my body)
to know that. 
And when my mind ceases to be,
my knowing of that will also cease.

Then where will I be?

I felt myself
fall
out of my grasp

and found myself

held
in the knowing of Another.

My being doesn’t depend
on my knowing
but on my being known

and I am 
–we all are– 
always
known.

For you died, and your life is now hidden with Christ in God.
–Colossians 3:3 (NIV)

Curious about Living from the Heart? Join my Maureen Miller and me online on May 24 for a mini retreat to experience what the Living from the Heart course is like and ask your questions. Register here.

Credits and References:
“‘Just right!’ she sighed.” by Steve Corey. Used with permission.
Known by Esther Hizsa, 2023 First published on my blog April 14, 2023.
“Faith” (Detail from a window, showing Faith holding the lamp of the Spirit’s illumination by Burne Jones in Buscot parish church in Oxfordshire, England) Photo by Fr Lawrence Lew, O.P.. Used with permission.
“Lovely Feet”  by Amancay Maahs. Used with permission.
Living from the Heart Image by Irene Fennema. 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
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We Need the Mind of Christ

Posted on March 28, 2025 by Esther Hizsa

We cannot solve our problems with
the same thinking we used when we created them.
–Albert Einstein

What if I start with “we”?
I didn’t create the problems the world faces,
not on my own.
But I do have an impact, good or bad;
we all do.
Thinking I don’t is part of the problem.
So let’s agree.
We have ways of thinking
that create problems,
and we need new ways of thinking.

We need the mind of Christ
opening us to new understandings,
new possibilities,
transformative action.

So I asked for it,
waited for it
in the silence.

And God gave me what I asked for.

I recalled a situation
where I missed seeing another person’s pain
because I focused on an issue.

I missed an opportunity to be compassionate first
and address the issue later.

I see it now–
without a sense of blame or judgment
from God or myself.

My quick mind misses important details.
Recognizing this helps me slow down
and remember:
What I think I know
isn’t all there is to know.

I used to think
I needed to make a change like this
because I was ashamed of imperfection,
afraid of being judged
and rejected.

But God’s compassion changed me.
I’m not so ashamed, not so afraid now
and that has shifted my thinking.

Now, I want to change
because I care about the person I’m with
and that, in some small way,
changes the world.

I wonder what else God will show me
as I continue to ask
for new ways of thinking.
Scripture says, “We have the mind of Christ.”
God, please help us use it.

God be in my head, and in my understanding:
God be in mine eyes, and in my looking;
God be in my mouth, and in my speaking;
God be in my heart, and in my thinking:
God be at mine end, and at my departing.
–Book of Hours, 1514

Credits and References:
“The Thinker” photo by . Used with permission.
Bible reference: 1 Corinthians 2:16
We Need the Mind of Christ by Esther Hizsa, 2025
“Budding” by . Used with permission.
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2025.
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 2013-2025.  http://www.estherhizsa.com
“The Thinker” photo by . Used with permission.
We need the Mind of Christ by Esther Hizsa, 2025
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2025.
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 2013-2025.  http://www.estherhizsa.com
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Course Corrections

Posted on March 22, 2025 by Esther Hizsa

“You need to signal, or you’ll end up getting hurt,” the man in a big pickup yelled out the open passenger window as he drove by.

It was the first day of spring and my first ride of the year. I’d decided to turn right at the last minute and forgot to put out my arm.

The truck pulled over a few blocks ahead. Had the man stopped to drill home my mistake? I considered turning down a side street to avoid confrontation. But as I got closer, I watched him get out of the truck and cross the street.

“Thank you,” I called, and he turned. “Thanks for the reminder.” I thought I saw his shoulders go down.

That afternoon, I was riding on a shared pathway and, as usual, was lost in thought. As I neared a pedestrian from behind, I abruptly announced, “On your right.”

“Use your bell,” the woman barked back.

My bell broke last year, and I had forgotten Fred installed a new one.

We met up at the corner where I thanked her. The energy it took to speak up spilled into further admonitions from her and more apologies from me before she paused and complimented me on my bike and asked me where I’d ridden.

Back at home, I caught up on my emails. A friend challenged a suggestion I’d made about the wording of a document our group would use. It became clear what I suggested didn’t line up with our values. Again, I thanked someone for redirecting me.

Three course corrections in one day, and not once was I tempted to scold myself or wonder what was wrong with me. Instead, after a moment of embarrassment, I felt lovingly guided.

There isn’t just new life in the daffodils peeking out of the ground.

Healthy correction is good, and if you accept it, you will be wise.
–Proverbs 15:31 (CEV)

Credits and References:
Photo of daffodil by alanmoore55555. Used with permission.
Course Corrections by Esther Hizsa, 2025
“Shared Pathway” by Colin Knowles. Used with permission.
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2025.
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 2013-2025.  http://www.estherhizsa.com

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Plan A

Posted on March 15, 2025 by Esther Hizsa

I was invited into the desert with You,
led there by the Spirit
into a barren place
with no food.

You were tempted
to turn stones into bread.
You could have done it,
but you refused.

If I could have,
I would have.
Why wait for God to intervene
or expect my neighbour to help?
It’s the responsible thing to do.

I sat there with You in the wilderness,
wondering what it would be like
not to
offer the solution on the tip of my tongue,
not to get up
and activate Plan B,
but wait
a little longer,
trust
a little more,
and let you
make the first move.

Rise up, Love! Set me free!
For through your guidance…
I shall be free to serve Love
with a glad and open heart.
— Psalm 3:7-8 paraphrased by Nan Merrill, adapted

Credits and References:
Stones into Bread by Lawrence OP Detail from a stained window, c.1170-80 in the Victoria & Albert Museum. Creative Commons.
Plan A by Esther Hizsa, 2025
Georgia O’Keeffe (1933) by Alfred Stieglitz. Original from The Art Institute of Chicago. Digitally enhanced by rawpixel. Creative Commons.
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2025.
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 2013-2025.  http://www.estherhizsa.com

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What Must I Do to Be Good?

Posted on March 7, 2025 by Esther Hizsa

    As Jesus started on his way, a man ran up to him and fell on his knees before him. “Good teacher,” he asked, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?”
      “Why do you call me good?” Jesus answered. “No one is good—except God alone. You know the commandments: ‘You shall not murder, you shall not commit adultery, you shall not steal, you shall not give false testimony, you shall not defraud, honour your father and mother.’”
      “Teacher,” he declared, “all these I have kept since I was a boy.”
      Jesus looked at him and loved him. “One thing you lack,” he said. “Go, sell everything you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me.”
     At this the man’s face fell. He went away sad, because he had great wealth.
–Mark 10:17-27 (NIV)

The first time I was in the place of the rich young man
who asked about eternal life,
I had no money to give to the poor.
I didn’t hear a word Jesus said.
All I remember is that
he looked at me and loved me,
and then my hand was in his.

Whenever I met Jesus in this story afterwards,
I asked myself what I was holding onto.
I saw the treasures holding me back,
but I couldn’t imagine living without them.
Jesus said, “Just follow me, anyway.”

This week, when the story came to me again,
I noticed the young man didn’t ask to follow Jesus.
He asked what he must do to be good–
good enough to secure a spot in heaven.
Jesus heard the question under his question
and gave him what he lacked:
He looked at him and loved him.

Then Jesus looked at me lovingly,
and I remembered that last week,
he tricked me into letting go
of a few coins from my treasury.
My selfishness was exposed,
my goodness in question.

It was a sobering moment.
But as I stayed in his heavenly gaze,
I realized he wasn’t concerned
about my selfishness
or how I spend my money
but about my preoccupation with
what I need to do
to prove to myself and others
that I’m good.

What if I gave that up for Lent?
What if, for the next forty days
I took on the spiritual practice of noticing
how the desire to be affirmed
motivated my actions,
ignited my fears,
and dominated my thoughts.

I looked back into Jesus’ eyes
and listened to my heart
and began to imagine
a new freedom.

Jesus [on the cross] is trying to make us conscious of the power of divine love to integrate our wounded goodness into himself and then, to move from a preoccupation with sin to a focus on grace. –Louis Savary, The New Spiritual Exercises

Credits and References:
Christ And The Rich Young Ruler by Johann Michael Ferdinand Heinrich Hofmann (1824-1911). Creative Commons.
What Must I Do to Be Good? by Esther Hizsa, 2025.
Christ’s Appearance to the Two Disciples Journeying to Emmaus by John Linnell (16 June 1792 – 20 January 1882). Creative Commons. Photo by Lex McKee. Used with permission.
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2025.
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 2013-2025.  http://www.estherhizsa.com
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Ash Wednesday

Posted on March 5, 2025 by Esther Hizsa

pilgrim shell and boots

Pilgrimage

Ash Wednesday
He’s on the road
         waiting for me

today we begin
a forty-day walk
to Jerusalem

I lace up my shoes
and follow
from a safe distance

but it’s bound to happen
His eyes will catch mine
and I must summon the courage
     not to look away

for in His loving gaze
questions arise
        memories
        hopes
        and fears

and we will
carry them all
        to Jerusalem*

Brian Whelan Jesus resolutely set out for Jerusalem. – Luke 9:51

Questions as you begin your Lenten pilgrimage:

  • What feelings does this poem or these images evoke in you?
  • What do they tell you about what you are carrying on your Lenten journey?
Credits:
Photo of hiking boots and scallop shell on the Camino de Santiago de Compostela from Paulo Coehlo forum. Labelled for reuse.
“Pilgrimage of Sight” by Brian Whelan was featured in explore, a magazine from the Ignatian Centre of Jesuit Education in Santa Clara California. The painting is owned by the vicar of Blythburgh Church in Suffolk, UK. Used here with permission.
“Pilgrimage” by Esther Hizsa from Stories of an Everyday Pilgrim, 2015.
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim 2025
Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without permission from Esther Hizsa is strictly 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 2013-25  http://www.estherhizsa.com
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