Well...I just got back from 10 days in the Northwest. Visiting family. I missed blogging and reading your wonderful blogs and feel quite out of sync. But it was a good trip. Glad to be home. Just to catch up, I think I'll transcribe a few journal entries because they belong here.

From my journal on retreat, 6/16/07:
So it's 1:30pm. I've been here for 4 hours. Wow. I find it hard to be in the present. As I discover beautiful benches and holy nooks, I find myself trying to plan when I'll return to that spot with what book instead of just enjoying it in the moment. But I've found a bench overlooking a dramatic mountain view and I am swiftly transported back in time one year ago exactly when I was on a different retreat; when I bravely blurted out my dream of priesthood; when I walked around the grounds feeling right in my skin as if my true essence had finally oozed its way to the surface. One year later, I'm about to finally meet with my priest to tell him I'm ready to begin formal discernment. One year. A year of endless reading, some praying, stumbling through parenthood and marriage amidst a crisis of identity shifting, reorientation and disorientation (not in that order, or maybe not?), speaking in code and generalities in my small groups, and finally here. O yeah, and groping my way through the darkness of hospital rooms in my chaplaincy. And tomorrow I tell my priest I'm ready. I'm ready to let-be-known my sense of call. I'm ready to seriously explore it in a discernment committee. If I wait any longer, I'll be 80 before the time I get ordained, if ever. Still so scared and full of doubt, but got to jump forward anyway. I have a safety net in God who loves this attempt, even if She's shaking her head and rolling her eyes. Or maybe, just maybe, she's the one taking my heart and lovingly, skillfully pulling it through my ribs and out into somewhere else and I must follow.

From later that day:
I am now sitting under this beautiful palm tree. It's short and thick with a huge trunk and an enormous umbrella of fronds creating gorgeous shade. I'm sitting in an adirondack chair under its branches. And I feel so protected. And suddenly this tree feels like God saying, "I want to protect you." From what? This is quite a strong feeling. I just notice one empty chair beside me.

From later on still:
I just walked the stone labyrinth. Rugged. Messy. Beautiful in its chunky ragged order. I loved the printed sheet that guided the walk, especially:
Discard our many roles and simply say "I am."

Choose to ignore all our ideas about God and other theological concepts and any spiritual skills and seek to become a child.

These two resonated with me the most. When I got to the center I noticed offerings of fellow pilgrims: rocks, money, photos, bracelets, notes. My first thought was a reprimand to myself, that I didn't do it right. Then, a smile, loving my silly rule-following self. Then I really took in all the little rocks and burdens, wishes and sorrows, hopes and dreams, fears and pain and I reached out and touched them with an outpouring of compassion. And in that moment I felt like a priest - loving, touching, honoring but not disturbing the stuff of my fellow pilgrims. I wanted to gather them up and do something with them, but instead I offered a prayer - a general prayer of lifting them into God, and I blessed them.

Back to the guidelines for the center of the labyrinth- the ones that stood out were:

Take the risk of recognizing an emptiness in myself that only love can fill.

Contemplate the blessing of the hidden nature of God who cannot be fully known, cannot be manipulated, cannot be made into an idol, cannot be pinned down, contained or tamed.

This came as such a relief to me. I breathed a deep releasing satisfying breath. I've been spending so much energy on trying to figure out who God is, who Jesus is and this seeking is essential but there must be the balance which holds the reality that the HOLY is unfathomable.

I was a rebel and picked up one of the little rocks in the center and carried it with me out into the world. I now feel the responsibility to pray for this rock and for the pilgrim who has unwittingly entrusted it to me. I hesitated before I did this, then decided that I would love it if someone did that for me.

On my journey out of the labyrinth:

Move away from anxiety toward peace and faith.

Yes. Away from anxiety. So I bowed to the labyrinth and bounced away, centered and free, to explore more of the grounds. I found a sitting rock I must return to at sunset. I traipsed along, then stepped into a huge pile of shit. God has a sense of humor. He likes taking me from the clouds down to earth. So much for letting go of anxiety. I decided it must be mountain lion poop because it was huge and also very fresh. I tried to scrape it into a nearby tuft of grass and started seeing huge buzzards soaring over me. Okay, time to get back inside the cloister. Was this the Fragmenter, the One who tries to keep us away from God? Or just the absurdity of life?

more later...