A Circle of Safety

Posted on January 31, 2025 by Esther Hizsa

My worrier
works tirelessly,
always watching,
bracing for bad news,
seeing the possibility of disaster,
and pushing the panic button.

This fearful guardian has wearied me
for as long as I can remember.
But when I discovered,
as Dorothy did in The Wizard of Oz,
that the one doing all this work
was not a formidable figure,
my heart went out to her.
She was just a little girl.

I found her again playing
with her back to me.

She stiffened when she heard my footfalls.
“It’s only me,” I said softly.

I thanked her for working so hard to keep me safe
and asked if she’d like me to take over for a while.

“How would it be if I drew a big circle around you
and made sure no bad thing entered
without my noticing and dealing with it.”

A stuffed mouse poked its nose out from under her knee.
The bear in her hand looked down at the mouse
and said, “That sounds wonderful.”
Then, the monkey in her other hand swung down from the trees.
“I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” he said.

“If anything comes to mind to worry about,
let me know, and I’ll take care of it,” I said.

“She’ll take care of it,” the bear said to the monkey and the mouse.

“Yes, I’ve learned a lot from you.
I will do my best to anticipate and prepare for what scares us.
I’ll make a plan.
You can offer your thoughts
and leave it with me.”

“That would be nice,” agreed the monkey,
surveying the circle I’d drawn.

“Okay then,” she said, looking at me.

In her eyes, I saw
there was much the mouse, bear and monkey
have seen and never told
anyone,
not even me.

In peace I will lie down and sleep,
for you alone, Lord, make me dwell in safety.
–Psalm 4:8 (NIV)

Credits and References:
Photo of girl from PxHere creative commons.
A Circle of Safety by Esther Hizsa,2025.
Mouse in a teacup by KR Alliance. 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

Posted in Childhood, compassion, Ignatian Spirituality, Poetry, Praying with the Imagination, Reflections, Stories | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

My Heart Sings

Posted on January 24, 2025 by Esther Hizsa

The master of the banquet tasted the water that had been turned into wine. He did not realize where it had come from, though the servants who had drawn the water knew. Then he called the bridegroom aside and said, “Everyone brings out the choice wine first and then the cheaper wine after the guests have had too much to drink; but you have saved the best till now.” –John 2:9-10 (NIV)

You have saved the best till now.

In their old age, Sarah and Elizabeth gave birth,
finally receiving their heart’s desire.
Near the end of their lives, Anna and Simeon
held God in their arms,
their eyes finally seeing Your salvation.

In the midst of life, as it is
with disappointments and losses,
I gather the gifts You’ve given me in my old age,
placing them around me
as I did on Christmas morning
when I was a child
sitting cross-legged on the bed,
arms around my knees.

My heart sings
with wonder, delight and gratitude.
Each gift tells me
I’m loved and cared for.

You have turned my water into wine.
You have saved the best till now.

See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.
–Isaiah 43:19 (NIV)

Credits and References::
Stained glass, Jesus turns water into wine from Saint James the Greater Catholic Church (Concord, North Carolina)  Wikimedia Creative Commons
My Heart Sings by Esther Hizsa, 2025.
1 Samuel 1-20, Luke 1:5-25, Luke 2:22-38
Happy by David Robert Bliwas. 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
Posted in Aging, Christmas, compassion, Poetry, Praying with the Imagination, Reflections, Stories, Stories of an Everyday Pilgrim | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Amnesia

Posted on January 18, 2025 by Esther Hizsa

I sit down to pray disappointed
that I didn’t have a better night’s sleep,
frustrated that I still can’t get a handle on this.

Compassion comes out of hiding,
slips in beside me,
leans her head on my shoulder
and strokes my arm.

In the quietness and comfort of her presence,
I see the gift in the fears
that are only heard at night.
They warn me of what could happen
or might be happening even now.
They want me to do something to prevent this if I can.
And, if I can’t,
they want me to know
that shocks and losses
are hard.
You don’t get over them easily.

I remember how Jesus slipped through the crowd
that threatened to throw him off a cliff,
walked right through them
as if he parted the sea.
But that doesn’t mean
he slipped out of the hurt and betrayal
without tears and sleepless nights afterwards.
The neighbours he grew up with,
the friends he played with,
the same ones he built furniture for,
accompanied in heartache,
celebrated weddings and births with
would rather kill him
than believe he was a good person
who was telling the truth.

In the light of day, with compassion beside me,
I realize
that sometimes the calm I feel in the daytime isn’t trust,
it’s amnesia.
I am at ease
because I believe no big bad thing is happening to me right now
and life will carry on this way.

Night fears awaken me to the reality
that losses and shocks are coming.
I am living,
and my body is preparing to die.

“It’s true,” says compassion, squeezing my hand.
“But, lo, I am with you always
even unto the end of the world.”

When you pass through the waters,
I will be with you,
    and through the rivers,
they shall not overwhelm you;
when you walk through
fire you shall not be burned,
    and the flame shall not consume you.
For I am the Lord your God.
You are precious in my sight
    and honoured
and I love you.
–Isaiah 43: 2-4, adapted (NRSVUE)

Credits and References:
“Morning” by crom shin. Used with permission.
Matthew 28:20; Luke 4:16-29
Amnesia by Esthet Hizsa,2025.
“Friends” by Clint Budd. 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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Crybaby

Posted on January 10, 2025 by Esther Hizsa

Jesus, full of the Holy Spirit, left the Jordan and was led by the Spirit into the wilderness, where for forty days he was tempted by the devil.
–Luke 4:1,2 (NIV)

Three mornings in a row,
I wake from vivid dreams
of what I fear most.

Three mornings in a row,
I close my eyes, still my body,
and meet these ghostly fears
in the wilderness with Jesus.

As we listen to the tempters,
we notice a three-year-old behind them
who has her back to us.
She’s singing and playing in the sand.
As we approach, she braces herself
for an attack.

But when Jesus calls her name,
she recognizes his voice.
It’s his song she sings.
He’s the invisible friend she plays with.
She turns and runs into his arms.

This young part of me
survived
by turning stones into bread,
bowing down to hate,
and throwing herself off a cliff
again and again.

He holds her.
Tears stream down their cheeks.
“I got lost,” she says.
“Yes, and I found you,” he answers, stroking her delicate hair.
“Would you like to come home with me?”

She feels her body soften.

“What’s your home like?” she asks as we walk.

“In my home,
you can make mistakes,
and don’t have to hide.
When your sandcastle gets smashed,
we build a better one,
and if someone hates you,
you don’t have to hate yourself.
We laugh, sing, play
and cry a lot.”

“Crybaby,” she says and pokes him.

“Uh-huh. I’m a crybaby, too.”

He tends his flock like a shepherd:
    He gathers the lambs in his arms
and carries them close to his heart.
–Isaiah 40:11 (NIV)

Come and retreat with me.
In person:
I am co-facilitating a weekend retreat on Bowen Island, B.C. Feb 21-23, 2025
On line:
Interested in exploring Ignatian spirituality? My friend and colleague Jan Evans and I are leading a silent Ignatian weekend retreat online March 28-30 Peace and Chaos: Journeying with Christ through It All. Registration is open for SoulStream’s Ignatian Spiritual Exercises Retreat in Daily Life 2025-26, also co-facilitated by Jan and me.

Credits and References:
Image of wilderness from PxHere Creative Commons.
Cry Baby by Esther Hizsa, 2025
Painting of Jesus carrying a little girl by Christian Asuh
© 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

Posted in Childhood, compassion, Ignatian Spirituality, Poetry, Prayer, Praying with the Imagination, Reflections, Stories | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 5 Comments

As a New Year Begins

Posted on January 3, 2025 by Esther Hizsa

I’m more than a little nervous
of what this new year might hold–
so many uncertainties.

There’s no safety found
in settling into
what I can lose–
my things, my body, my mind, my loves–
though I won’t stop trying,
and they need tending.

It’s good to know
I can’t lose You.
I can’t even lose me
because I’m in You.

And so, while I still have
a comfortable place to live,
a functional body,
a somewhat reliable mind,
people to love,
and work to do,

let me choose to begin each day
in the quiet
with You
where I am
seen, held, loved,
secure and reassured
that whatever happens,
Your door is open
and I don’t have to leave
any part of myself
outside.

Though we are beset with many fears
that cause illness and troubles,
The Beloved is ever ready
to comfort us in our sorrows,
To strengthen us on our soul’s
journey to wholeness, 
The Beloved renews the life of all
who surrender to Love. 
–Psalm 34:19-22, paraphrase by Nan C. Merrill,
Psalms for Praying: An Invitation to Wholeness

Looking for reflection questions for the New Year? Check out these posts: As You Step into the New Year and Count Yourself In.

Credits and References:
Cardinal by Janet H. Used with permission.
As a New Year Begins by Esther Hizsa,2025.
Image of door by Arman Dzaferagic. 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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Here for a While

Posted on December 27, 2024 by Esther Hizsa

So many wonders
I treasure in my heart.
My soul magnifies the Lord.
He has scattered the proud and lifted up the lowly!

I still find it hard to believe
I was chosen to give birth to God-With-Us.
The wonder of wonders I wake up to each day
is that the Christ Child I hold, change and feed
is here for a while.

The angel, Elizabeth, the shepherds, Simeon, Anna, and the Magi,
all called me blessed.
But when Herod’s men brought down their swords
no one called me blessed,
not now.

So many hardships
came with my blessing–
the noisy, scratchy, cold, stinky stable,
Simeon’s pointed prediction that a sword would pierce my soul too.
And it did,
as we fled in the night,
carrying the grief of the coming massacre,
staving off guilt and responsibility on that slow, precarious journey to Egypt,
arriving exhausted, alone and unknown,
finding a home with words that met blank faces and ways that offend.
We took any job, worked long and hard,
only to be uprooted again
and return to a place
that doesn’t believe us.

I keep waiting for the suffering to end
and fear the wonder will fade,
but both are here for a while–

wonder and hardship
my daily bread,

praise and lament
my daily prayers.

Love is the root of all joy and sorrow.
–Meister Eckhart (c. 1260 – c. 1328)

Credits and References:
Virgin Mary with Jesus by Ignacy Gierdziejewski, National Museum in Warsaw from Creazilla Creative Commons
Here for a While by E.Hizsa, 2024
The Flight into Egypt by James Tissot from the Brooklyn Museum Creative Commons.
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2024.
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 2013-2024.  http://www.estherhizsa.com

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Advent 4: The Star Appears

Posted on December 20, 2024 by Esther Hizsa

Blessed are you,
agreeing to stand still long enough
to let your eyes adjust to the darkness
until the starlight begins to appear,
the dawning of God’s promises.
–Kate Bowler, A Blessing for Open Arms

Be still, my friend,
and breathe with me.
Let us open our arms
and cradle our anxious hearts
as our eyes adjust to
to the dark
and the starlight appears.

What was promised
is dawning:

the knowing
that God does not wait to give peace
until all is well
but when it is yet to come,

the belief
that difficulties can enlarge us,

the trust
that, even now, while
pain grabs,
dread hovers,
and overwhelm is one disappointment away,
God is holding us
as securely as Mary held her newborn,
God is wiping our brows and offering His hand
as we labour to give birth,
and God, Herself, is birthing us anew.

All around us we observe a pregnant creation. The difficult times of pain throughout the world are simply birth pangs. But it’s not only around us; it’s within us. The Spirit of God is arousing us within. We’re also feeling the birth pangs. These sterile and barren bodies of ours are yearning for full deliverance. That is why waiting does not diminish us, any more than waiting diminishes a pregnant mother. We are enlarged in the waiting. We, of course, don’t see what is enlarging us. But the longer we wait, the larger we become, and the more joyful our expectancy.–Romans 8:22-25 (MSG)

Credits and References:
The Iris Nebula by Gianni. Used with permission.
A Blessing for Open Arms by Kate Bowler in A Weary World Rejoices
The Star Appears by Esther Hizsa, 2024
The Virgin Mary with Baby Jesus by Thiên Long. Used with permission.

© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2024.
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 2013-2024.  http://www.estherhizsa.com

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Advent 3: God Incarnate

Posted on December 13, 2024 by Esther Hizsa

Saturday morning, I stirred the pot on the stove
and noticed the contents were too watery.
I felt churning in my stomach
and butterflies in my chest.
Translation:
If this doesn’t work out
I can’t handle it.

This is what puts me over the edge?
Date squares that might not turn out?
I guess I shouldn’t have doubled a new recipe.

Three days before, my ninety-one year old mother called 911.
As I looked for her in the busy emergency department,
I noticed something different in my mouth.
My tongue kept returning to the ragged gap in a molar, hoping it wasn’t true
as Mom called out in pain from time to time.
Four hours later, she was given a Tylenol with Codeine and whisked off to x-ray.
An hour later, the doctor sent her home.
A pulled muscle.

I got Mom’s Tylenol in blister packs
and took her for her first-ever massage.
A trip to the dentist confirmed
I needed even more dental work than planned.

By Friday, Mom’s pain settled down, and
I was getting used to the idea that I would be spending
so much time at the dentist
and so much money.

I thought I was fine.

But Saturday morning, making date squares,
I learned I wasn’t.
My body was calling 911.
It needed to be heard, felt,
taken for a walk, and comforted.
Losing a part of itself so suddenly was a shock.
My body needed compassion and time to recover.

God, incarnate in my body, told me 
how I needed to be saved.

The mind deceives. The body never lies.
Listen to the wisdom of the body. Hear its truth.
–Thomas Keating, Open Mind, Open Heart

Credits and References:
Photo of a person stirring a pot by Teona Swift on Pexels. Creative commons
God incarnate by Esther Hizsa, 2024
Photo of dog by Jean Alves on Pexels. Creative Commons.
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2024.
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 2013-2024.  http://www.estherhizsa.com

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Advent 2: The Meeting Place

Posted on December 7, 2024 by Esther Hizsa

Blessed are you …
Telling the truth about where you are…
Because this is precisely the place
where God will meet you.
–Kate Bowler, A Blessing for Telling the Truth

All shall be well.
God is always with us.
There is nothing to fear.

I know that

but the truth is
something in me doesn’t believe it.
There’s no use pretending it does
or trying to convince, coerce or ignore that part of me.

Anxious unbelief is in my body,
and it’s not budging.

So, this is where I must wait.
You promised you’d meet me here,
said you’d leave the ninety-nine parts of me that are doing fine,
find this lost one,
and bring her home
safe in your arms.

As I imagine that,
I feel my body relax a little.

I think about You
gestating in Mary’s womb
taking on a body,
becoming contained.

I think of You
contained in my body
as it senses Your heartbeat,
feels Your movements
and waits
for what words
cannot do.

Which one of you, having a hundred sheep and losing one of them,
does not leave the ninety-nine in the wilderness
and go after the one that is lost until he finds it?
–Luke 15:4 (NRSVUE)

Credits and References:
Nativities Festival by The Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception. Used with permission.
A Blessing for Telling the Truth by Kate Bowler in A Weary World Rejoices
The Meeting Place by Esther Hizsa, 2024
Lost Little Lamb by Matthew Kirkland. Used with permission.
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2024.
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 2013-2024.  http://www.estherhizsa.com
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Advent 1: Your Yes

Posted on November 29, 2024 by Esther Hizsa

The angel went to her and said, “Greetings, you who are highly favoured!
The Lord is with you.”
–Luke 1:28 (NIV)

You come to us,
as you did to Mary
and ask if we will bear Christ 
already seeded in us.

Like Mary, 
we don’t know how this will be.
Most of the time, 
we don’t even know
if we can sustain a yes 
for more than a few minutes now and again.

That doesn’t seem to stop You
from coming,
turning our thoughts on their heads
and showing us
that we’ve already 
given birth to Glory
and there is more to come.

Your yes
is deeper than ours
and so solid 
we can lay out on it
with our arms wide
open.

The secret is simply this: Christ in you! Yes, Christ in you bringing with him
the hope of all glorious things to come.
–Colossians 1:27 (Phillips)

Credits and References:
Leonardo da Vinci, Annunciazione photo by Pom’. Used with permission.
Your Yes by Esther Hizsa, 2024
3 Angels by terren in Virginia. Used with permission.
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2024.
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 2013-2024.  http://www.estherhizsa.com
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