Respite

As Spring nears, my thoughts have been turning to a place that is very close to my heart--The Jesuit Monastery in the countryside of Wernersville, Pennsylvania. For the past decade, I've been taking a weekend once a year to spend in silence in that place. It's hard to describe my feelings as I pass through the great iron gates that are wide open, inviting entrance into the monastery grounds. I am often accompanied by my sister, and we together breathe a prayer that God will remove any expectations, except that of meeting Him there. I can almost feel a physical cape of grace, as it were, settling over my shoulders and around my arms, binding me in God's promise of love and mercy.

Entering into the great stone main building, I find myself smiling with remembrance and comfort--almost like coming home--if it's possible to feel that way about a place so infrequently visited. Even the small cell-like room to which I am assigned, feels like a warm and comforting little space, just for me. While the room is small, there is a large window looking out over the grounds, and more closely down onto a small garden of fountains and statues of the saints.

You would think that after spending time at this place year after year, that I would go with the expectation that God was going to meet me there in an amazing way, but each year I am actually surprised at that reality. While the specifics are probably too personal to post, I can say that without exception, each year I have explored a specific facet of my relationship with God in a new and humbling way.

This year my reservation is in for the Fall. My two daughters who are presently living with me, will be leaving for college in August--April to Temple University in Philadelphia, and the Jubilee to Belhaven University in Jackson, Mississippi. I feel certain that my time at the monastery in September will be a time of reflection and insight into the new reality of being an empty-nester. How will that play out for me and what will it mean in terms of my relationship with my heavenly Father? We'll see...