Echoes and Moments

In the middle of the night When dreams suspend belief In the shadows of death's fright I saw you. You wailed my name aloud Before your arms stretched wide With hospital gown a shroud I saw you. The whirlpool of death's shame Your tyranny so clear Mind breaking every frame I saw you. And grace imbues the whole Sick with grief you wept Your majesty so bold I saw you. Mistook your "I" for mine They locked you in that room Shoved pills in every time I saw you. Naked you crawled in mourning Alive you were indeed The yoke lifted soaring I saw you. But me you did not trust You kept your mind's old game And played the part to dust, and I saw you. The little ones did say Reminding you every night The childlike way to pray, I saw you. My father raises life Adopted now you he claims Your broken tattered strife I saw you. My shoulders are enough You've suffered here and far No road will be too rough, for I saw you. And win

This has been a lonely season for me. I would describe my station in the spiritual journey as a desert, or the wilderness, if you prefer. Don't be alarmed for me; this is a familiar (and deeply sacred) place.  If you've been reading this blog at all, you'll know that I love the desert for its beauty, peace, and tranquility. Not only does the desert remind me of my patria , New Mexico, but it encourages me to look to God when all else seems hopeless and all life seems distant.  I am reading an excellent book by that great master of spiritual formation, Henri J.M. Nouwen (1932-1996), called Reaching Out . In it, he explains how loneliness is one pole of a spectrum of the spiritual journey. The other pole, which God draws us towards, is solitude. He quotes that great master of solitude, the Trappist Monk Thomas Merton (1915-1968). I hope you find this helpful if you, like me, struggle to allow God to draw you away from yourself, into himself, and into the deeper consc