Friday 8:53 a.m.
When I signed up for this retreat, it was after a significant amount of searching for a Christian meditation retreat. To no avail. So East-West at a Catholic retreat center was as close as I could get. I signed up with trepidation, and deep hunger. I was ravenous.
As the months passed, I was both looking forward to it and repelled by the thought of it: looking forward to the open time, fearful of the openness of the time.
Looking back, I feel God compelling me, drawing me here this week. Choosing the books I brought, selecting the place, guiding both my practice and my willingness to claim what I needed. I came here to jump start my meditation practice, but God gave me the view from 45,000 feet. The momentary clear apprehension of the vision that my husband has been pressuring me to write down. I know it needs to come down to 30,000 feet, and I need to make the effort to write -- really write -- but I am utterly grateful for the crack in the sky.
God draws me, draws us. Pulls us toward God, and creates us in line, shadow, form and gesture as we come closer.
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