In the World Not of the World

This past weekend I traveled to West Palm Beach, Florida for the wedding of my dear friend, Elaine. While I was more than excited to see her- it had been months and months-, I was also a little nervous, because it had also been months and months since I had been in the world by myself. It was a little bit of a rocky start; I realized when it was time to go out with the girls, that I hadn't brought "going out clothes". It had been a long time since I'd "gone out"and I wasn't used to it.

Thankfully, going back into the world is a bit like riding a bike. Once I was in it, I remembered how to be. And boy, was it nice to get my nails done (all in the duty of being a bridesmaid of course) and dress in grown-up clothes all weekend- I felt like a lady. But, I also remembered how to be me, and I didn't let the world take over my identity. Over the course of the weekend, I had so much fun. I spent time with old and new friends, remembered how much I love dancing, and so much else. Of course I missed Covecrest, how could I not? But I realized that I am not dependent on this community or being up in the mountains to maintain my identity in Christ. I still prayed, and it was because my heart wanted to, cried out for it, not simply because of the routine. In fact, in some ways, I prayed more when I was gone than when I'm here (I know, I know, it sounds impossible).

This life, this year, has prepared me to go back into the world and be in it, not of it. I'm not done learning yet, and I'm sure there will always be struggles, but I'm on the right track, and I'm grateful for what I've been given.

Holy Thursday

"It was into the wildest part Jesus went to pray"

Last week, we took our day off as a desert day, which is when we spend the day in silence, meditation, and prayer. I chose to spend the afternoon in the small garden next to Mike's Place, one of my favorite spots here at Covecrest. Hidden by tall bushes and vines entwined around the fence, the garden is simple and beautiful. It's wild, not perfectly kept, but a perfect spot for reflection. As I sat in the garden, I wondered if Gethsemane was a place such as this, wondered if Jesus spent the Passover night in a garden like ours.

Tonight after Holy Thursday mass, we processed with the Blessed Sacrament from the ampitheater, and I assumed we were headed for the chapel (this is the first Holy Week in years that I have not been very very involved in the planning and execution of Holy Week Services, and I have been glorying in that). Instead, we entered the garden. And as I kneeled on the stone, gazing upon the tabernacle through the branches of a bush, looking at Jesus sitting in the spot where I had sat a week before, I felt that God was answering my prayer in a way. Maybe Gethsemane did look like our garden physically, maybe not, but in any case, it was a place such as ours- a place of prayer, a place to wait and watch with the Lord, a place where the Lord is praying for you.