believe

Day two...

Mass at the Carmelite Monastery starts at 7 am, so we set our alarms for a few minutes after 6.  Its dark outside as we find our way across the path over to the chapel.  As comfortable as I feel inside, I also feel reverence and sacredness throughout the Mass.  The sisters sit behind a screened wall.  We can hear them sing, pray and read, so beautifully, but not see them in any way.

An hour later we scurry out the door, and notice the sun is just coming up over the horizon.  We hurry inside to get some breakfast started, and as the coffee percolates, I slip outdoors as the sun makes its presence known.

To my delight, not only is the horse nearby, in the pasture behind the guest house, but for the first time ever, I see a farm cat sitting pristinely nearby. 

I turn for one last shot, and see the horse, standing, motionless.  We stand in the presence of one another, not uttering a word, or a sound, yet keenly aware of each other.  Somehow, he exudes a quiet and yet sturdy energy and I soak in it, as the sun begins to set his chest ablaze.  I am mesmerized. 

I retrace my steps and look back towards the chapel. I notice the moon still in the sky, while the sun begins to cast a glow on the chapel.  I'm taking all of this in and feeling, peace, and awe all at once.

And then my stomach growls, as the chill takes over, and I rejoin Roxane in the warm kitchen for some breakfast.  Soon we will be heading back to a tiny vestibule in the monastery, where Mother Joseph will meet with us.

In the meanwhile, I'm sitting quietly in my room, and reach for a book to read for a bit.  Its my copy of Love Does, by Bob Goff, and I find I can always read for a short bit and fill with something he says, no matter how short the time.  

As I go to lift the book from the dresser, something falls and clunks on the floor.  I jump as the noise catches me off guard in such a serene setting.  I pick it up, and have to chuckle.  Its my book mark- the new one, that says "believe."  I have to say I feel this word, suddenly, in a whole new way.  

Its not long and Roxane and I are headed over to see Mother Joseph.  We ring the bell as instructed, on the outside of the door, and then enter.  We aren't immediately certain, which room she will appear in, so we stand in the entryway and wait.

I notice a door begin to open, and suddenly Mother Joseph appears, welcoming us to sit.  She sits behind a desk with iron bars that open so we can talk.  

Oh where do I begin to describe to you all that is Mother Joseph?  There is such a quiet assurance in her voice.  While she is dressed, head to toe, in her habit, her face radiates such warmth and light, I hardly notice what she wears.  She has a vibrancy to her that is palpable.  

And her witty remarks and comments begin immediately, reminding me, of how entirely human she is. We segue from one topic to the next with ease.  I find myself telling her, I am here to see if God has anything to tell me, or show me, as I sit in this period of waiting.

And Mother Joseph says, "Vicky, the sister's and I pray for you often, (she mentions a homily they've just read- then says)  I think what I feel He would want you to do in this time of waiting, is to REST.  Much like Mary held baby Jesus in her arms, on her chest- rest.  Feel all that love and comfort, from that place of rest."  

I've said this before.  My words escape me, when I am at Carmel.  My minds slows, and I don't think long and hard about much of anything.  I tend to just "be."  

And from what Mother Joseph has just shared with me, I sink further into letting go.

The hour we have with her, quickly passes.  Mother Joseph has imparted such soothing words for hard times.  As we stand to leave, she accepts a hug from each of us.  Its an embrace that reached all the way around and I leave feeling refreshed.

I'll be leaving in a few hours myself.  With the sky so blue, and the light still pouring in, I go off back behind the guest house.

Then I circle around the front by the pond again. I'm always amazed at how I see it with new eyes no matter how many times I walk through the grounds.  

All too soon, Rick arrives to pick me up.  I grab my bags, and stuff my two words inside, "rest," and "believe," and we drive off into the future of all our tomorrows. 

be still

 It seems as soon as I step into Roxane's van, the chaos, the mess, the darkness, begins to fade into the dust being kicked up by the van and left in a cloudy trail behind us.  We talk the miles into oblivion until suddenly, I gasp, oh its the turn, already!  And an hour has evaporated.

We're here.  At the invitation of Mother Joseph, we're here at Carmel of Mary, a Carmelite Monastery, for a "retreat."  It's my third time here.

The light begins to shine as we turn to enter the lane that will take us to the Monastery.  Its a gorgeous fall day.

We drive past the chapel and work our way back to the guest house.  

We are greeted by these, poking through the rails, straining to face the sunshine.  Its a welcome greeting, Roxane and I both stop to capture in pictures.

We put away our things, but every window beckons with a filmy, gauzy, white in which the sun streams through.  I can hardly wait.

The "blue" bedroom is the one I always choose.  But I barely lay my bags down and reach for my camera.  I can't sit inside for long.  While Roxane, a writer and journalist, works, I head out.   My thoughts still, as my eyes open to the light streaming everywhere.

I walk outside and as my feet hit the earthy grass, I see a Guinea feather, left behind by one of the hens that inhabits the grounds.  I see them, far off in the distance.  Its the only sighting of them I have the entire time I'm there.

I walk past the gated areas, where the sisters live.  With 7 hours of their day centered around praying, I am quiet with my steps, not wanting to disturb the solitude around me.  

The gate, to their backyard, with the word "cloister," on top.  The word according to Merriam Webster means : a place where monks or nuns live : a monastery or convent

: a covered path or hall with arches that is on the side of a building (such as a monastery or church) and that has one open side usually facing a courtyard

The silence is both staggering and serene.

Its a long walk, yet, just like our ride, I shoot photo after photo, stepping carefully through the grounds.  There is something so sacred about being here.  I go to sit in front of Mary, and at long last my overflowing heart is unburdened.  

While the leaves are turning autumnal colors, and falling steadily from the trees, bursts of color stand out everywhere my eyes gaze.  Like at the feet of Mary, the bright red flowers, just beginning to wither, yet steadfastly facing into the light.

I soon get up to walk down and around the rest of the property.  The light dazzles everywhere and I am shedding my sweater, for short sleeves, just like my soul is shedding its burdens, layer by layer.

I walk.  I breathe.  My mind ever still.  About the only word that truly escapes my lips, is thank you, God, thank you.

While there are points of reflection in so many places, like the bench below, I simply wander forward.  My Fitbit steadily counting all my steps.

Step, after step, of gorgeous grounds, and nature in all its glory.  How can one not feel God?  I do not have any urgency to find Him, He is everywhere.  I just breathe deep.

I'm outdoors, walking the grounds for nearly two hours.  Its nearing dinner time and Roxane and I will be heading into town to eat our first meal on our own.  

But as if my first day, wasn't spectacular in every way, the next day doesn't disappoint in all of my new discoveries.  More coming… 

The language of light...

15 minutes.  That's all it takes.

It's Monday morning.

She tells me to uncross my feet and clench my hand.  I'm rusty at this blood draw business.  She goes for the sweet spot, the depression in my right arm that has been stuck repeatedly for blood work over the last 19 months and has yet to disappoint in the amount of blood it produces.  

But the vein rolls, and a small squeak escapes my mouth as she pokes around with the needle trying to salvage the poke.  Its no good.  We move to my left arm.  

She jabs another spot and I squirm with the intense, albeit, brief pain as she tries to elicit a stream of blood. 

 But it trickles and we watch in awe as a bright purple bruise appears instantly.

What is up with my blood? 

As the smooth steel of needle pierces my skin for the third time, I grip the chair with my toes as pain shoots through my arm.  Minutes later we're finished, although she says if they can't use the precious few drops we've squeezed out of me, she'll call me to come back.  

15 minutes ~ is the amount of time for my reality of cancer world to shatter through the serenity I was holding onto.

The days may not be so bright and balmy—yet the quiet and melancholy that linger around them is fraught with glory. Over everything connected with autumn there lingers some golden spell—some unseen influence that penetrates the soul with its mysterious power. ~Northern Advocate

If you are going on a "retreat," you want it to come with a name like Carmel of Mary.  Because it doesn't seem possible upon arriving, that you are really just miles outside of Wapheton, North Dakota at a Carmelite Monastery.

A golden hue of light cast a steady glow over the landscape as we drove up Friday night.  My friend Roxane (through an extension of Mother Joseph Marie) invited me to attend two days and two nights of a retreat with her.  

Autumn in all of its splendor greeted us upon arrival.

We spoke to Mother Joseph, the one time we would see and speak with any of the Sisters while we were there.  The Sisters are cloistered, and spend 7 hours out of the day in prayer.  They are not seen or heard.  

The silence was both staggering, and serene all at once.  

My mind hushed and dialed down, as my eyes feasted on the glory all around.  Words it seems, became unnecessary.  Language was surrounding us in the sounds of the birds, the hum of the wind, the whirl of the leaves,  and the smell of the harvest-tinged earth. 

This heart delicately outlined in the grass was the first thing we saw as we got out of the car.  Love was at my feet, but I couldn't have know, really, it was surrounding us at every moment.

The Carmelite Monastery below.  Roxane and I were made two hot meals daily, and summoned by the ringing of the bell.  The bell also signaled the start of Mass every day at 7 am, and several other times of prayer for the Sisters, beginning at midnight.  

I had no earthly idea how much I'd feel like I was walking back in time when I entered the private guest house we stayed in.  From the green couch, to the blonde wood of the desk, to the gold colored drapes and the rounded arches in the walls, I felt like I was at my Grandmother's house.  

I have to say the house was not just cozy, but spotless.  I mean not a speck of dust or dirt anywhere.  The linens were pressed.  The kitchen countertops were lined with baskets of fruit, fresh baked bread, snacks, granola bars, and tea.  There were eggs and milk in the fridge and home made applesauce.  The simplicity of the rustic setting had such a warmth and charm to it.  I was enchanted.  I was discovering the truth of the saying "love is in the details."  

I picked the blue room as my own.  Reminiscent of my grandmother's home again with the chenille bedspreads and the crocheted pillows- the soft golden sunshine bounced off the blue walls enveloping me in tranquility.  I slept and read for hours.  My gratitude poured out in an endless stream in my journal.

The Sisters subsist off a garden plot, and donations brought in from the community.  The food was so lavish, in such a down- home hospitable way.  We would arrive in the dining room and our food would be placed in a lazy susan that spun around from the kitchen to the dining room.  We couldn't see the Sisters who prepared the food, and they couldn't see us.  They would ring a bell and then our food would appear on the turnstile.  

This lunch consisted of roast lamb with some savory sauce on it, rutabagas, squash, tomato salad, fruit salad and a cookie.  The food was earthy and well seasoned, and mouth watering and so tasty. 

On our last night Roxane delivered a note to Mother Joseph asking permission for us to attend their Compline prayers.  We were welcomed to come inside and listen.  The Sisters sit behind a screened area.  But their voices were so pure, sweet and clear.  Gregorian chant encompassed much of their prayers and I left feeling the love the Sisters share with each other and for Jesus. 

We found that as we left the dining area after dinner, the sun would just be setting.  We would grab our cameras and chase after the sunlight as it danced into the night.

Everywhere we turned, a click and a capture awaited us.  We pored over our photos and delighted in realizing we had so many different ones, while shooting the very same things.  

Everything seemed to be in alignment... 

Towards the end of our stay last night we sipped tea savoring the respite for a few more minutes before we departed.  How would we bring this retreat to an end?  

It turns out God had it all planned out.  The clouds had rolled in while we ate and it had turned overcast and melancholy.  But then I happened to turn and looked back over the trees and the most radiant light streamed through one last time. I stood transfixed, chilled with goosebumps at the timing of this last visual feast.  Light, God gave me light.  He magnified my word and shone it brightly across the land for all to see.  

“When you get to the end of all the light you know and it's time to step into the darkness of the unknown, faith is knowing that one of two things shall happen: either you will be given something solid to stand on, or you will be taught how to fly.” 
― Edward Teller

I will see Dr. Panwalkar in the morning.  Today's bloodwork will inform the treatment I receive tomorrow.  As I sift through my photos again, peace descends. The light is still shining through after all.   

The calling of the bells...