Trapped

Posted on January 31, 2014 by Esther Hizsa

Behind That Locked Door by innoxiuss

Frustrated, stuck, trapped. That’s how I felt. That’s what I recorded in my account of a spiritual direction session.

I had directed the session and was discussing it with five other spiritual directors who gather monthly for peer supervision. In supervision, we don’t focus on the client, called a directee, and what is going on with them. We focus on the director and what the Holy Spirit is doing in us. We pay special attention to the emotions we experienced as we listened to God and the directee in that sacred space.

My wise and compassionate friends poured over the dialogue* and the feelings I experienced during the exchange. They invited me to say more about them.

“I felt trapped because I didn’t know what to do,” I said. “When I calmly look back on the situation, I know now what I could have said or asked. But in my panic, I couldn’t see those options.”

I had experienced the same panicky feeling recently when I drove back and forth trying to find a house in the dark, when I overreacted to a comment, and when I tried to call Fred and his cell phone was off.

Tears came. “This happens a lot.”

“Do you think you’re triggered by something in your childhood?” someone asked. 

I thought for a moment, but nothing specific came to mind.

Two days later, in the middle of the night, I remembered a time when I was a young child and my siblings played a prank on me. We were in the curing room of my father’s cheese factory. They went out and shut the door, leaving me inside in the dark. They thought I knew how to get out, but I couldn’t figure out how to open the heavy industrial door. It seemed like forever until they came to let me out.

Now, with the help of my friends, I understood how the incident still affected me. I saw a pattern: something happens that I can’t control; I feel powerless; my upper body tightens. I have to get out.

A few years ago I talked about my childhood memory with a spiritual director. He invited me to picture Jesus in the curing room with me. I closed my eyes and saw myself as a little girl. Jesus pulled me onto his lap and enfolded me in his arms. He lit a light in the darkness and smiled.**

Jesus is with me when I am afraid. This truth may not keep me from feeling trapped by life’s events. But now, when I sense my upper body tighten, I can think of his arms around me again and be comforted. Eventually my eyes will adjust to the dark and will see the options before me.

And I will see the open door.

Open Doors by criggchef

even the darkness is not dark to you;
    the night is as bright as the day
 – Psalm 139:12 (NRSV)

Credits:
Behind That Locked Door by innoxiuss. Used with permission.
Open Doors by criggchef. Used with permission.
*The directee’s name and personal details were changed to protect their privacy.
** I wrote about this in “God in the Dark: Theory” by Esther Hizsa published here.

© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim 2014
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, 2014  http://www.estherhizsa.wordpress.com.
Posted in Childhood, Popular Posts, Poverty of Spirit, Spiritual Direction, Stories, Stories of an Everyday Pilgrim | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

What’s a Bucket to Do?

Posted on January 24, 2014 by Esther Hizsa

jesusneedsnewpr.netI keep thinking of myself as that leaky bucket.  I marvel at the fact that I don’t need to put myself into God’s ocean of love; I’m already there.

The first illusion, which I talked about last week, is that I need to fix my holes to be useful to God. The second is that I could ever be empty of God.

When I open myself to God, I do not let in more of God. I am already full of God. Instead, I open myself to the reality that I am in God.

When Darrell Johnson taught at Regent College, he once said in a sermon on John 17, “We are in God and God is in us,” then added with a wondrous sigh, “and you can’t get much closer than in.” 

Jesus prayed that we would be one with the Father in the same way he is. God answered that prayer through Jesus’s death and resurrection. Yet we keep living as if nothing has changed. Father Thomas Keating, a Benedictine monk, said, “The chief thing that separates us from God is the thought that we are separated from Him. If we get rid of that thought, our troubles will be greatly reduced.”

Yes. That thought makes me thrash about, frantically trying to keep myself afloat. Jesus smiles. “Let yourself sink into my love. Abide in me and I will bear fruit in you.”

I imagine myself again as that leaky bucket sinking into an ocean of love, not fixing or accomplishing or becoming… anything. I feel peaceful.

But it doesn’t take long before my ego asks, “So, what are you doing here?”

The answer comes to me in the middle of the night: I am “doing” the will of God. As I rest in God’s love, I am fulfilling all God wants me to do with my life. 

Out of this resting, out of God’s fullness comes surrender to God’s will. I can surrender from a place of being immersed in love because I know that God is attending to my needs. My ego can relax: God is my creator, saviour, and sanctifier. 

Here in God’s ocean of love, with my ego asleep beside me, I am free to do whatever pleases God.

breath

Abide in me as I abide in you. John 15:4 (NRSV)

Credits:
I have been unable to find the original artists who created the pictures of  the girl with Jesus and “Breath” (the calm ocean image).  Please contact me if you are or know the artist.
Darrell Johnson is lead pastor at First Baptist Church in Vancouver.
Thomas Keating, Open Mind, Open Heart. (Warwick, NY: Amity House, 1986), 44.
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim 2014
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, 2014  http://www.estherhizsa.wordpress.com.
Posted in Helpful Images, Popular Posts, Poverty of Spirit | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Immersed in an Ocean of Love

Posted on January 17, 2014 by Esther Hizsa

I awake with an emotional heaviness at 4 a.m. and remember what caused this feeling. I got hoodwinked by fear in a legitimate disguise: I saw an injustice and pushed the panic button–again. I ended up making a fuss over nothing, and now I wonder if those involved are getting frustrated with me.

I hate these holes in my bucket.

“If you were a leaky bucket and wanted to be filled with God’s love,” I heard Rob Des Cotes say at a prayer retreat not long ago, “you could either spend your life patching the holes or simply immerse yourself in the ocean of God’s love.”

When I heard Rob’s words, I imagined myself as a bucket, filled and surrounded with love, and a deep ahhh relaxed my body.

God is loving me now at four in the morning. God doesn’t despise my weaknesses but sees these holes as openings through which I can be filled with love.

Waves Chris Niekel

I breathe in and out and picture myself lying in God’s ocean of love. I hear the pebbles move, feel them shift under me as the cold water flows out and rushes in again. Salty waves flood my weaknesses and recede, leaving every filament of their tattered edges as wet and vibrant as anemones.

In the morning, my fears will have drifted off to sea; I will laugh at myself and wonder why I was so worried. Even if my peers are wearied of me, I will not be undone. God is with me.

But here, now in the night, I don’t want a strategy for how to live with my weaknesses. Here and now, I just want to lie in the ocean of God’s love and feel God’s tireless, boundless love wash in and out of the holes in my soul.

sand beach When I awake, I am still with you. Psalm 139:18b

Credits:
“Waves” by Chris Niekel. Used with permission.
“Sandy Beach” by Donna Geissler. Used with permission.
Rob Des Cotes is director of Imago Dei Communities, an ecumenical network of Christian faith communities based in Vancouver, British Columbia.
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim 2014
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, 2014  http://www.estherhizsa.wordpress.com.
Posted in Helpful Images, Mystical, Popular Posts, Poverty of Spirit, Praying with the Imagination, Rob Des Cotes, Stories | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 10 Comments

Not Again?!

Posted on January 10, 2014 by Esther Hizsa

I went for a walk with a friend the other day. After we greeted each other with a hug, she did what she always does: clips a microphone on my collar. This silver bullet-shaped microphone transmits my voice to her hearing aids so she can hear me while we walk.

characters-professor-calculus-kneelingWe soon became engrossed in our conversation. When we neared the end of our walk I noticed the microphone was gone. We prayed and retraced our steps looking for it. We even asked sympathetic passers-by to keep an eye out for it. Finally we gave up and said goodbye.

Before getting into the car to go home, I unfastened the coat I had tied around my waist when I got overheated. That’s when I found the microphone still clipped to my coat collar. It had been there the whole time! 

At this point you might expect me to mention how God is always with us, even when we are unaware of him. Or talk about the importance of mindfulness. But really, considering my age, I’d rather just laugh about it. I’m getting as absent-minded as Professor Calculus. In situations like these, I find myself echoing my grandson. One of his favourite lines–said with a laughing groan–is “Not again?!”

We have to laugh at ourselves sometimes, and I rarely find myself short of material.zazzle mug

The other day I was racing out the door to Scrabble night with the girls when I remembered my cell phone needed charging. I grabbed the cord and intended to recharge my phone while we played.

I didn’t think of it again until I got home and couldn’t find the cord. I looked for it in my backpack and my coat pockets three times with no luck. I e-mailed my friends; they hadn’t seen it either. The next morning I checked the most likely places again and even looked in a coat pocket that I rarely use. As I did I felt something hard in the sleeve: the plug. Ha! The night before, I had the cord in my hand when I put on my jacket. The cord was still dangling in my sleeve!

When I told my friends what happened, they had a good laugh. And I hope you do too.

Please, tell me I’m not alone. Send me your absent-minded-not-again story by e-mail or in “comment” so we can all laugh together.

BTW when Fred sees this post he’s going to want to give me one of those mugs. Or maybe he already has…  Not again?!

Each time he said, “My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness.”
– 2 Corinthians 12:9 (NLT)

Images used:
Image of Professor Calculus http://us.tintin.com/meet-the-characters/professor-calculus/
Image of Professor Calculus from Tin Tin on banner in single post: http://www.brusselspictures.com/wp-content/photos/tintin-stockel-metro-mural/Professor%20Calculus.jpg
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2014.
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, 2014 http://www.estherhizsa.wordpress.com.
Posted in Humour, Stories | Tagged , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

Free as a Bird

Posted on January 3, 2014 by Esther Hizsa

birds cropped AYFinally it’s January. The New Year brings me closer to spring and the possibility of more emotional energy. Dark December is always the hardest month for me. I keep praying that God will increase my desire for him, but other desires trap me and I feel somewhat numb and lost.

I gripe at God. “Just tell me what you want me to do to get out of this place.”

I think of people I know who struggle with long-term illnesses. They too long to be free as a bird–as free as the swallow that my son-in-law, Jeremy, saw while he was in hospital for the nth time because of Crohn’s disease.  His song Swallow is about that desire to be free. Click on the album cover for the link to listen to it. Here are the lyrics:

Swallow
by Jeremy Braacx

Geometric ShapesSwallow,
fly to your home
in the wall of the hospital.
I am stuck here inside,
and you may be,
but I’m not free at all.

My dance partner has been
this intravenous pole.
I am tired of the spin;
I am so tired of spinning her. 

Swallow,
fly to your home
in the wall of the hospital.
I am stuck here inside,
and you may be,
but I’m not free at all.

My mind’s been going whirr-tick-tick
to the sound of my IV pump.
I have been so tired and sick,
so sick and tired of thinking about–

Swallow,
fly to your home
in the wall of the hospital.
I am stuck here inside,
and you may be,
but I’m not free at all.         

     Swallow, fly into my chest.
     Make a nest; build a home.

     Swallow, fly into my chest.
     Make a nest; fill the hole
     in my soul. 

I heard of one who can raise the dead.
Transform the view from my hospital bed.

In the silence as I wait on God and think of Jeremy’s song, a deeper desire rises. The Cloud of Unknowing describes it as “a naked intent toward God in the depths of my being.” Its flame fills my chest with a sharp longing–not to flee this hole in my soul–but to fill it with God and his “unending miracle of love.”

Words come from a softer place in me now. “Lord, deepen my love for you.”

I find God’s reply in the wise words of the fourteenth century mystic who wrote The Cloud of Unknowing: “Though this loving desire is certainly God’s gift, it is up to you to nurture it… fix your love on him… Close the doors and windows of your spirit against the onslaught of pests and foes and prayerfully seek his strength; for if you do so, he will keep you safe from them. Press on then… Our Lord is always ready. He awaits only your co-operation.”

birds AY

 

O Holy Spirit,
fly into my chest,
build a nest,
make a home
in my soul.

Help me press on.
Close the door of my heart
to all competing desires
so I do not love anything
more than you.
Amen

 

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Credits:
Photo by Anne Yungwirth. Used by permission.
Swallow: Music and Lyrics by Jeremy Braacx 2011. Used by permission.
Album Cover of Geometric Shapes: View from My Hospital Bed by Rick Vugteveen
Excerpts from The Cloud of Unknowing, 14th C. anonymous English author, © William Johnston, 1973.
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim 2014
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, 2014  http://www.estherhizsa.wordpress.com.
Posted in Poverty of Spirit, Prayer, Songs | Tagged , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

What If Mary Had Said, “No”?

Posted on December 27, 2013 by Esther Hizsa

Annunciation Nicolas PoussinThe angel Gabriel appeared to Mary and told her she had found favour with God and was going to give birth to God’s son. Mary wondered how this could possibly be true since she was a virgin but responded with the words, “I am the Lord’s servant, may it be to me as you have said.”

Her immortal “Yes” has been painted, written about, and celebrated ever since. But what if Mary had said, “No.” What if, in that moment, she pulled the plug on the most beautiful aria in history. Imagine the pained look on Gabriel’s face if he had to tell the hosts of heaven to pack up shop. Would that have been the end of the story or would they have hastily gone looking for another young woman to take Mary’s place?

But Gabriel did not come to ask Mary if she wanted to bear the Son of God. He simply announced what would happen: the Holy Spirit would come upon her, the power of the Most High overshadow her, and the One born to her would be called Jesus.

It seems to me that if Mary didn’t want to hear Gabriel’s news and told him to go away, she still would have gotten pregnant and given birth to our Lord. But Jesus would have been born to a mother who didn’t want him, didn’t love him, and would not have encouraged him to be himself. He would have grown up to do all that God asked him to, while bearing the sorrow of being rejected by his own mother. Isaiah 49:15 would have become prophetic: “Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion for the child she has borne? Though she may forget, I will not forget you.”

If Mary had interpreted Gabriel’s message as a burden foisted upon her, she would have gone down in history as the woman who missed the opportunity to enjoy mothering the Saviour of the world.

Mary’s story pierces our hearts because we too have been presented with a great opportunity. Whether we choose it or not, we have been overshadowed by the Holy Spirit who finds one way or another to be born in us. Everything in life has the potential of opening us to God. And God uses these things to enter the core of our being, so God can love us and be loved by us. The Holy One comes to us… whether or not we see it.

The question is not: will I allow God’s kingdom to come—for it most surely will—but, will I, like Mary, believe I have found favour in his sight? Will I praise God for his coming to me?

Caravaggio Adoration of the Shepherds


How silently, how silently,
the wondrous Gift is given!
So God imparts to human hearts
the blessings of His heaven.
No ear may hear His coming,
but in this world of sin,
where meek souls will receive Him still,
the dear Christ enters in.
– O Little Town of Bethlehem

 

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Images:
Annunciation by Nicolas Poussin, 1653
Adoration of the Shepherds by Caravaggio, 1609
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim 2013
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 http://www.estherhizsa.wordpress.com.
Posted in Christmas | Tagged , , , , , | 6 Comments

A Problem of Orientation and Proximity

Posted on December 24, 2013 by Esther Hizsa

Govert_Flinck_-_Angels_Announcing_the_Birth_of_Christ_to_the_Shepherds_-_WGA07928

And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.”
     Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying,
     “Glory to God in the highest heaven,
    and on earth peace to those on whom his favour rests.”
     When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let’s go to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has told us about.” – Luke 2:8-15

Today we celebrate good news of great joy that is for all people: God himself has come to earth to save us. But what has he come to save us from? The very thing that has robbed us of life: sin. The angels’ announcement was good news for all people because all of us have sinned and fallen short of what God intended for us.

During the Advent season, as the days got shorter and the nights longer,  I became acutely aware of the painful effects of sin–mine and everyone else’s. I suspected the Holy Spirit was getting me ready to receive the One who came to address it.

When I have been sinned against, I welcome such a saviour. I am glad Jesus has come to validate the injustice I have suffered. I want him to defend me and address those who have wronged me.

But what happens when I’m the sinner? The news that Jesus has come to address my sin does not sound good, nor does it fill me with great joy. No one likes to be found guilty. The angels knew that, yet they beckoned us all to rejoice. They wanted everyone to celebrate because Jesus did not come to condemn and reject us, but to inform and return us to God. For what is sin but a turning away from God and his love?

All of us have at one time or another turned away from God–the only one who can meet our deepest needs–and tried to get what we want from others. But they were not designed to meet all our needs. And so, on some level, they felt violated because, in fact, they have been. They have been sinned against.

The Old Testament prophets, seeing the harmful results of sin, told people to turn from their ways and stop sinning. They named the people’s wrongs and implored them to do what is right. When I read these passages I feel convicted. I know they are speaking to me about my sin too. But I often miss the word “turn” and skip right to “stop.” I feel ashamed of my sin so I try not to do it again. I may be successful for a time. But using determination alone to deal with sin is as about effective as taking an analgesic to heal a broken bone. It may kill the pain, but it won’t fix the problem.

I have come to realize that sin indicates a problem of orientation and proximity. When I turn away from God and move away from him to seek security, significance, and empowerment from others, I will inevitably leave a trail of suffering and anger.

God’s solution to all this violence was to send Jesus to redirect us to himself. When I turn toward Jesus, his light reveals the goodness of God. I am drawn closer and experience God’s loving attentiveness, faithfulness, power, and provision. God invites me to ask him for what I need and, as I wait on him to provide it, I become rightly related to others.

 “Come and follow me,” Jesus said to his disciples. When they weren’t sure they could trust him, he said, “Come and you will see.” When they got confused and lost their way, he found them–crying in the garden, disappointed on the road, guilty by the shore–and led them back to God.

On Christmas we celebrate the good news that God has come to save us. Jesus–laid in a manger, nailed to a cross, risen to life–did what it took to reorient us and bring us home.

And that is good news indeed.

Merry Christmas, everyone!

Image: Angels Announcing the Birth of Christ to the Shepherds by Govert Flinck. 1615-1660.
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim 2013
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 http://www.estherhizsa.wordpress.com.
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Our Darkest Hour

Posted on December 20, 2013 by Esther Hizsa

awesome full moon rick smothermanTomorrow is the first day of summer in the southern hemisphere. But for those of us on the other side of the world, winter begins with the longest night of the year.  Advent comes to a climax in our darkest hour.

I began the Advent season with a confidence that has been repeatedly derailed. (I must confess I haven’t yet said “yes” in capital letters to anyone that asked me if I’m ready for Christmas.) I was ready for moments of wonder and joy–and they have come–but I have also been tripped by feelings of inadequacy and tempted to just “get through it.” I look around and see others struggling to keep their heads above water too. These dark days make me increasingly aware of how broken we all are and how desperately we need God.

Desperation prepares our hearts like nothing else.

Two weeks ago I was having a bowl of soup with “Tom” who has been homeless since spring. Before I could sit down he wanted a hug. In the three years I’ve known this man, he’s never asked me for a hug.

“I was arrested,” he said, “for no good reason. The cops held me for twelve hours.  When I asked for my stuff back they said they were keeping it… for evidence.”

“What?!”

“They took everything I owned. I managed to get another backpack and sleeping bag from Progressive Housing and someone gave me these pants, but they were made for a f***ing midget.”

He finished his soup and left before I could find words to comfort him.

In a staff meeting that afternoon we prayed for Tom, but I kept imagining him irritated by Christmas carols, frustrated with an empty-handed God.

Tom returned the following Wednesday.  “Look at me,” he said grinning and showing off his fur-lined coat.

“What happened?”

“Things went from bad to worse and I didn’t know what to do. I had nothing. Finally I cried out to God, ‘I need clothes. And I know you can provide them.’ Within five minutes I found this! I’m not kidding, five minutes later I received this coat and these clothes.” He held open his coat so I could see his new shirt, jeans and shoes.

Öèôðîâàÿ ðåïðîäóêöèÿ íàõîäèòñÿ â èíòåðíåò-ìóçåå Gallerix.ruHe went on. “I never believed God loved me, but I now know it. I know he loves me,” he said and began to weep. “These are not tears of sadness, but tears of joy. I’m the prodigal son come home. God put a robe around me and shoes on my feet.”

Tom wrapped his fingers around the soft fur with the same wonder Mary felt as she caressed her newborn son and Saviour.

The true light, that gives light to all people, has come into our world. It shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it.

Mary said:
“My soul glorifies the Lord
     and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,
   for he has been mindful
    of the humble state of his servant.
From now on all generations will call me blessed,
    for the Mighty One has done great things for me—
    holy is his name…”
-Luke 1:46b-49

Images: Awesome Full Moon by Rick Smotherman, used with permission.
The Return of the Prodigal Son, Pompeo Batoni, 1773,
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim 2013
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 http://www.estherhizsa.wordpress.com.
Posted in Advent, Homelessness, Poverty of Spirit, Stories, Wednesday Lunch Club | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Incarnation: Some Assembly Required

Posted on December 13, 2013 by Esther Hizsa

Georges Rouault

Incarnation: Some Assembly Required

I open my door
to welcome all that You are
and
PUT everyone comes in

anxious
thoughtful
joyous
distraught
expectant
ANGRY
PUT (with compassion crushing
PUT blame baring
PUT vulnerability)
lost

God unassembled

I feel
Your need
to be
PUT us

Ademaro Bardelli 1934 Italy*

The Word became flesh and blood,
and moved into the neighbourhood.
– John 1:14 (The Message)

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*
*
Credits:
“Christ and Apostles” by Georges Rouault, 1871-1958
Ademaro Bardelli, 1934
“Incarnation: Some Assembly Required”  by Esther Hizsa, 2013.
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2013.
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 http://www.estherhizsa.wordpress.com.
Posted in Advent, Poetry, Poverty of Spirit, Prayer | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

A Mysterious Place of Meeting

Posted on December 6, 2013 by Esther Hizsa

file0001561384333I spent three days on Bowen Island walking, praying, and watching the seagulls.  I noticed that when one or two birds landed on the calm sea others followed. God seemed to be telling me that as I rest in him, others will be drawn to his rest as well.

I loved this peaceful, attractive image and carried it home.

On the ferry ride back every noise sounded amplified. The ship’s horn signalled the return of Real Life. I joined the queue and disembarked into a sea of tense faces, deadlines, e-mails, phone messages, disappointments, and complications.

Seagulls by o0o0xmods0o0o

The next two days offer no solitude. I notice that I am irritable and judgmental. People squawk and fly off.

Two o’clock in the morning, I’m awake. Tired of tossing and turning, I get up and try to pray and write this mood out of me. My own words land, flick cold wet thoughts:

I am ready to welcome and receive…
    all of who you are
    and all of who I am.

No, I’m not. I don’t like all of who I am. I don’t like being irritable or unkind. I want to be that gentle bird floating peacefully, attractively.

A wise person told me that our weaknesses endear us to God.

He quoted Johannes B. Metz. “Only through poverty of spirit do we draw near to God; only through it does God draw near to us. Poverty of spirit is the meeting point of heaven and earth, the mysterious place where God and we encounter each other.”

When I first heard that quote, I couldn’t quite picture “poverty of spirit.” Now I not only see it, I feel its salty chill.

Sometimes I have the grace to be still and, out of God’s silence, say the words that draw others to God.

And sometimes I’m just another scrappy gull in a restless flock.

But the Spirit reminds me that God loves all of who I am. Jesus not only meets me in my contented stillness but mysteriously descends into my soul’s stable and makes his home there.

2-Nativity

Blessed are the poor in spirit,
    for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.
— Matthew 5:3

Images:
Seagull by dieraecherin. Used with permission.
Seagulls by o0o0xmods0o0o. Used with permission.
Nativity by He Qi
The “wise person” is Rob Des Cotes.
Johannes B. Metz, Poverty of Spirit, 1968
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim 2013
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