Dear Friends,
Before I landed on these shores, people asked “What are you excited about on Iona, Lisa?” My response was, “I’m just trying to stay available.”
My hope was not to impose expectations on this experience, other than stand on a windy precipice and present your prayers to God. For myself, though, I sought to remain open, take the experience as it comes and trust the unfolding. This my second full day on Iona. My fellow pilgrims are faithful, poncho-covered gifts to me – listening and sharing, witnessing their own experience. The land is raw and beautiful, daylight lasting 17.5 hours, some sun and some rain, (as I write this, LOTS of cold, windy rain) with demanding hills and passageways. The sea and sky surrounds us, holds us in a cocoon of the wonder. Celtic crosses stand tall, I open my hands and say, yes, as best I can.
One of the draws of Iona, for me, is the idea of being in a “thin place.” I understand that as a place where the veil is lifted a bit between our human experience and an encounter with the Divine. I’m also taken by the ancient history here, of peoples seeking and living with the Holy as they manage daily lives for thousands of years. As believers, aren’t we invited to cultivate the sacred connection, transcending time and space, nourished by and in relationship with God?
Today, my sense of availability is dependent upon hurt ankles, knees, hips, back and an occasional pounding heart. My sense of wonder is shaped by the cold rain and my desire to avoid it. And I ask, “O God, I know there is more to this experience, and my life, than the effort to survive it. Please help me find my way.”
A text comes from a good friend, and tears come to my eyes…ah yes, love…there you are, stay with me here, especially in this vulnerable place….
“In the silence of sleep and the dreams of the night, we watch for the shining of your presence.” JPN
With hope, Lisa
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