I went in with a stone – and came out with an acorn.
Arrival – burdened, questioning, hurting.
Who am I? Where am I? Why did I?
Have I been faithful to God’s calling all those years ago?
What have I lost about and within myself?
What comes next?
Retreat.
Not to escape, but to face the challenge
To listen, to respond.
Whether the voice is still and small and calm
or crashes like a thunderstorm.
The skies are grey, my mood dark
yet I am hopeful.
God calls, God allows, God enables, God fulfils.
In the dark I am but a seed immersed in soil
lacking growth and lacking colour.
In the light I can be a flower, flourishing and unrestricted.
If I fail to be myself
If I fail to make my own kind of music
A light goes out on the Earth – a light only I can give.
So much to learn and rediscover about God.
So much to learn and rediscover about me.
And so the labyrinth beckons…
I go in carrying a stone –
nothing attractive about it, worn, dull and uninspiring.
Yet it represents all that weighs heavily upon me.
I enter feeling useless, hopeless, heavy-hearted.
When I stood at the crossroads did I take the right path?
Or did I move away from that first call,
away from fulfilment, away from the real me?
The stone is small but becomes more than it is.
I weep at what is, what was and what could have been.
The word of the Lord breaks through the clouds:
“I love you with an everlasting love…
I have continued my faithfulness to you…
I will turn your weeping into laughter…
I will comfort you and give you gladness for sorrow.”
I pause. I remember.
God didn’t bring me this far to abandon me.
Who has really brought me to life?
When did I feel most alive?
What are the people, things and attitudes that are deadening and that I need to leave behind?
I become aware of sights and sounds
Rustling leaves
bleating sheep
laughter
birdsong
I am not lost in the labyrinth,
just journeying through it.
As I reach the centre
I drop the stone, stand still and look around.
To the north is the wood with its many paths…
different possibilities.
To the east are fields and farmland.
To the west a wall – uninteresting
until you remember what lies beyond…
a garden of beauty and industry and growth
where stewards dig, plant, tidy and laugh.
To the south an oak tree –
how long has it stood there?
what characters and history has it witnessed?
In the distance a tractor hums,
sheep graze,
horses look over hedges
an owl hoots,
gardeners laugh at a misdiagnosed weed,
something moves among the branches
and somewhere, someone deep in prayerful contemplation
is distracted by a friendly cat.
All is calm.
It is as though my life has been travelling to this moment.
Time stands still…
… a breath… a heartbeat…
Then all resumes afresh.
I look down – and next to my discarded stone
lies an acorn.
I pick it up – a symbol of life, growth and new hope.
A reminder of how even the greatest thing begins small.
I start to laugh.
At what is, what was and what could be.
Against the assault of laughter nothing can stand.
My sadness is forgotten
replaced by new vision, new possibilities…
The way of contemplation and the way of action.
As the week passes together we recognise the sacraments in the everyday and the ordinary
The God with us
The Christ who lived and died and rose again
Living each day as if it were our first.
But now – in this moment –
lies something found and something rediscovered.
The one who called now leads me on.
I have the instruments to make my own kind of music
I have the voice to sing my own special song
I have the strength to explore new paths.
Hopes and dreams become
what happens next
Who I am – what I am – where I need to be
And in the distance
The horses shake their heads
toss their manes
and start to gallop.
David Guest, written on retreat at Launde Abbey, August 2018
SEP
2018