Bittersweet leaving of Iona this new day. I’m off to another Holy Island in another country, Lindisfarne, a place to whence (love using the Brit words) I’ve wanted to pilgrimage for nearly thirty years.

So I’ll have one last bowl of porridge, then take a ferry, drive across Mull Island to take another ferry to Oban, then drive across Scotland to England, timing our drive to cross the causeway to Lindisfarne with the low tide or there will be a long wait till the next low tide.

For whatever God has next in store.

Except they call it the Harvest Festival
here.

Anyway. This Sunday morning, the whole island, including all houses of worship and the school children, celebrated the harvest with worship at the Abbey.

This is my last full day on Iona, and I’m a bit sad to be leaving. It was lovely to wake up today without an alarm, have a leisurely breakfast, and to walk by the sea to worship where my only responsibility was to worship.

My friend and I like to arrive early, and this morning there was a cheerful, excited hubbub before worship as all the participants made final preparations. I decided to go sit in the side chapel, the Quiet Corner, for my own preparations. It was sweet to remember all I love and light candles for them, resting in the still place within my heart, as those gathering to worship made their own joyful getting ready sounds.

As we walked across the pasture to morning worship at the Abbey, I heard a distant beep beep beep. As we got closer it sounded louder and louder, much like the fire alarm that had gone off during worship Thursday evening when incense filled the Abbey. Apparently they are very serious about fires here on Iona. We were bustled out with great haste on Thursday night.

When we entered the Abbey today by our usual back door, not a candle was lit, and the space was empty and quiet except for the fire alarm. We could see people gathered outside and joined them, much to the horror of one of the Iona community who, on seeing us come from inside the church, went to stand by the side door to prevent others from entering the back way.

There was laughter and conversation as the cold wind blew, and fire fighters came in and out, unable to find the source of the alarm. There was talk about praying outside, but after yet one more false alarm, we were in our places near the 9 AM start.

I am mindful this day of the way the Holy Spirit is with us whether we hear the fire alarm or not, whether we feel the bite of the wind or not.

After worship today, I went to sit in the Quiet Corner, that side chapel reserved for silent prayer. Everytime I go in there, my heart feels the blanket of prayer that seems to never leave that space.

As I sat there in prayer, I heard the sound of wild geese out the window. Fitting, somehow, since the Iona community has as its symbol of the Spirit a wild goose.

Fire. Wind. Wild geese.

The Holy Spirit is with us.

As we sang this morning,

“Give me courage when the world is rough
Keep me living though the world is tough;
Leap and sing in all I do
Keep me traveling along with you.
And it’s from old that I travel to the new
Keep me traveling along with you.”

There was a big storm in the night–howling, screeching wind and pounding rain. It was good to be inside.

On Iona, the ground is always wet and the paths always have puddles, but the walk to the Abby for morning worship had to be done with extra care today. One misstep on slippery rocks or into a puddle would get the day off to a not so good start.

So I walked towards worship with extra attention and care. Mindfully. Prayerfully.

I’ve been trying to live all the minutes of my day with more attention and care. Mindfully. Prayerfully.

The walk to and from worship as the sun rose once again over this wee island began a rhythm which I hope, I pray, will be my spiritual practice for the rest of the day.

Mindfully. Prayerfully.

Oh. And I didn’t slip or fall.