It should probably have been cause for alarm when this was
the narrative playing over and over again in my head as I traipsed through the
woods... alone... in the rain... in an unfamiliar city. But I have long since passed the point of
alarm... And that reference to not
remembering how I got here? I didn't
mean Portland. I meant life.
The other day, someone who regularly reads this blog asked
me if I was going to become Catholic. I
smiled. The answer to that is no, but I
continue to be surprised by how vast the disparity is between typical,
mainstream Protestants and Catholics. If
exploring sacraments, and deciding that I love them, is enough to create doubt
about my Protestantism; I think we have a real problem. And it's not that sacramental living is to be
avoided. It's that we have avoided it to the point of
misunderstanding.
So, I'm still out of town, and it's Sunday. The truth is, I don't always "go to
church" when I'm out of town. The
truth is, I had no intention of "going to church" today. However, in my research regarding what I might like to do today, I came across
"The Grotto", which is a Catholic shrine and retreat center. Of course I needed to spend the day there, and it didn't make any sense to skip
Mass if I was going to be there, anyway, so I "went to church" after
all. Of course it was beautiful and
inspiring and of course I felt like I was probably wearing a big scarlet
"P" (for Protestant) on my shoulder, because I'm still getting the
hang of the rhythms of Catholic Mass. I
participated in the Eucharist even though the priest said it was only for
Catholics, today. I don't think I got
caught.
I spent some time walking through the stations of the cross,
St. Joseph's grove, via matris, and the mysteries of the rosary. Honestly, it was a little overwhelming and
will probably take me some time to unpack it all. For tonight, I would like to focus, briefly,
on my experience at the prayer labyrinth.
Most people are really uncomfortable with silence. I actually like silence. A lot.
Maybe too much. I took probably
an hour or so to walk silently through the prayer labyrinth, allowing God to
speak to me, speaking to God when I reached the center, and then allowing God
to speak to me again on the way back out.
There is something significant about measured movement and directed
time. I really like the idea of prayer
as breathing, and I think it is essential for us to "pray
continually" (I Thessalonians 5:17, NIV). But praying, very intentionally, for an hour,
was good too. I think maybe I need a
prayer labyrinth in my backyard.
Like many experiences in my life, this one
has caused me to consider rhythms again.
I wonder what it will take to create the kind of time and space that are
conducive to this kind of communion with God on a regular basis. I feel as if I waste an extraordinary amount
of time every day, and yet I also often feel as if there is not enough time to
accomplish everything I should be doing.
I'm pretty sure I'm going to find that it's a matter of priorities. It usually is.
L.
P.S.
I could have titled this post, "Confessions of a Protestant
girl who now owns a rosary and has no idea what to do with it." I might have done a little bit of birthday
shopping... for myself... in the gift shop.
Love it!
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