If you’ve been around here with me for any length of time, you know that over the past several months I’ve been on a pilgrimage of sorts, a weekly trip to a Benedictine monastery near my home for a half hour, or an hour, depending on whether I stayed with the brothers for lunch. (I’ve written about that at a quiet little space called Making Headroom.)
My hope was to make this journey for 52 weeks, in search of a spacious, quiet place. I found it in the cool stone walls of a chapel, in the rhythm of a steady liturgy, in the quiet of a place where needless noise remained unheard, in the space that opens when one simply isn’t in a hurry to be anywhere but right here.
I wanted to learn to find God in the quiet, so I could learn to find him in the noise.
To find him right here.
Mastered that, I have not. But I’ve learned it.
My journey has been cut short by the sad new of the closing of the Abbey for unfortunate but sound reasons of their own. But it continues on in other ways.
As the monks make their preparations to transition to their next chapter, I’ve written and thanked them for the gift of spacious quiet, a place to find the God I was seeking, in this chapter of mine. I compiled the posts from Making Headroom into a single document and sent that along.
If you’re interested, I’m putting it out here for you as well. It’s a no-obligation offer.
If you’ve been intrigued by the journey and want it in one place, here you go.
If you think I’ve lost my way and want to know what on earth I was thinking, here you go.
If it’s just not your thing, that’s alright too. Don’t click that link.
I appreciate all of your patience while I processed some of this here, and there, and other places. Looking for him, finding him, being found by him. It’s a never-ending process. I’m glad we’re in it together.