My heart is the cross


Tomorrow I travel back to Houston. Flying, not walking. 
While on retreat, August became September, and in the Georgia mountains I saw the first tiny glimpses of fall.  Today Hurricaine Hermine brought cloudy skies and cooler temperatures, and I wore longer pants and an extra layer when I walked. 

The gift of delicious food prepared for me from local ingredients in a beautiful setting has been spiritually nourishing. The meals with friends always included good conversation and laughter. 

Sitting amidst the trees on the porch to write, to read, to pray, and to knit (and eat those meals with my friends) has been a place of peace. I’ve felt creative ideas bubble up; the good ones will remain, and perhaps bear fruit. 
On the morning walk along the Tallulah River today, we played In My Heart is the Road and did our prayer dance. This  afternoon, after a stop at Osage Market for peaches, we walked a labyrinth at the bottom of the ridge at yet another Presbyterian Church, this one in Wylie, Georgia. 


This labyrinth overlooks the highway, and I walked the moss–covered path as trucks and cars raced by down below. This path has surprises of rocks and crosses and acorns and green plants and strange mosses.  The labyrinth is built on the slant of the earth, and my steps were a series of ups and downs. 

When I got to the center, I created a cross from twigs that scattered the pathway. As I placed my simple cross on the center rock, I prayed.  I was reminded that what the cross means for me is to offer my whole self to God.  That’s what Jesus did:  offer every bit of himself to God.  Our lives, and how we choose to give them to God, are the cross. 

As I walked back from the center, each step was a prayer for all the other cross walkers in my life.  When I returned to the entrance to the labyrinth, a brisk breeze began to blow. My head told me it was the very edges of the hurricaine. My heart told me it was a blessing from God. 

Walking a retreat: In my heart is the road

In my quiet on the porch during this mountain retreat, I’m continuing to spend time slowly moving through Christine Valters Paintner’s, The Soul’s Slow Ripening:  Celtic Wisdom for Discernment.  Todays’s reflection was the invitation to dance with Betsey Beckman. 

I’ll be honest.  Though I enjoy dancing, the day on this retreat that I have to watch one video, take time to learn a dance that is a movement prayer, and then do the dance is the one I find most challenging. I always feel closer to my spiritual self afterwards, but it’s a real journey to get there. Hmmm. Not such a bad thing. 
Anyway, today the video was filmed at a retreat center in New Mexico, and since that’s a place that is part of my rhythm of annual travel, it felt like home. Then, Betsey’s instructions were simply to let the music guide your feet as you listened to the song provided–doing it once contemplatively, and the other playfully. 
I downloaded the song by Richard Bruxwoort Colligan to my phone. The words were inspired by Psalm 84:
In my heart is the road
And I will not be turned
In my heart is the road
Bless my feet on the journey
To Jerusalem, to Jerusalem. 

On the river walk today, my friend and I played the music and danced the Psalm. 
Yes, in a public place. We were filled with joy as we let our feet do the praying.   Playing and praying. They are good spiritual companions. 

When I began my retreat this week, I didn’t imagine that taking steps would be a central theme. But beginning at the airport in Houston when I walked between terminals because I had extra time, and happened on a surprise sunrise riding down an escalator; to the labyrinths of recycled glass, an Eagle Scout project, and hidden crosses; to an invitation to dance; I’ve been praying through my feet. 
I’m walking on holy ground. 

Walking a retreat

Today I walked two paths. 

This morning I walked the river walk, a rails to trails project near Tallulah Falls. I walk here often when I’m visiting my friends; they walk it most everyday. 

In these last days of summer in the Georgia mountains, it was a rainbow of green. My walking friend is recovering from a foot injury, and it was good to walk a slower pace. 
On this day, gone were the “stations” I’d seen on prior walks on this path nestled in a state park. Last year, some soul or souls had tucked small rocks with Scriptures and words of grace along the walkway.  State officials, I’m told, didn’t approve and removed them almost immediately. I always look in case one or two have been replaced. 

This afternoon, we walked the labyrinth at the local Episcopal Church.  The parish has a dedicated gardening guild, and I was particularly impressed by the herb and flower cutting gardens. Folks are encouraged to snip flowers and herbs for their own enjoyment, and the church has placed a little box with scissors and plastic bags to invite sharing. 
The labyrinth was moved when the parish did some renovations. Now built around a tree, it backs up to a neighbor’s home. A beautifully crafted fence separates the church from the homeowner. One has to look very carefully to see a cross woven into the wooden screen. 

In Georgia, where words about Jesus are rampant, posted and painted on most any available spot, I was thoughtful about a public path where the Good News had been openly proclaimed, and removed, and a church that shared the Good News in nearly hidden ways. 
It made me wonder about St. Mary’s and whether or not we choose to be stealth Christians. Do we proclaim the Gospel so openly that others are offended, or do we keep our Good News so quiet others may only happen upon it if they really really know where to look?
Perhaps rather than walking one path or the other, there is our own unique way.  May we be faithful to that as we proclaim by word  and example the Good News of God in Christ. 

 

Walking towards my retreat in stages

I’m now seated on my friends’ screened back porch surrounded by tree tops. I’ve been traveling towards my retreat in stages.  The trip to the porch was via two labyrinth walks. 


The first labyrinth was at the Presbyterian Student Center at the University of Georgia in Athens. It was created with recycled bottles; being a college student project, it appeared to be largely recycled beer bottles. The second was an Eagle Scout Project at a Presbyterian Church in Commerce, Gerogia.  

The glass bottle labyrinth required me to pay attention. A couple of the bottles had broken, and the outer path of the labyrinth was so near the fence it felt as if I were walking a balance beam as I carefully placed my steps. 
Students rushed by on their way to class as I prayed, and the sun shone through the glass, painting the path colors of green, yellow, and gold. 

The second path was smalI and simply–created with pavers and crushed stone.   At the entrance it had a sign that read:
Peace be with you—Jesus
Luke 24.36
Quotes by Jesus are always good to ponder on a labyrinth walk. 
It was a very brief walk, but the path was narrow, and once again, walked with attention and care. 
For years, I’ve wished for a labyrinth at St. Mary’s. The Junior Daughters of the King have wanted to build one. Another parishioner proposed creating one as his Eagle Scout Project. Both were delayed as we finalized the master plan for our property so that we would know the best spot to place a labyrinth.  Today as I walked these two paths in Georgia, both created by young people, I began to think about, and pray about, a labyrinth for St. Mary’s.