For the previous few days, I posted a series of journal entries I made on a retreat last winter. Every six months I try and take a few days away to regroup and focus on one spiritual master. Last year, it was The Cloud of Unknowing.
Day 4: Home Again
I leave my cabin now with bags packed, stuffed with wool, upon my shoulders. And the sun has turned the ice ferns into mist thus laying branches bare. The melt has begun, which will leave this countryside a brown and grey pre-Spring mud. I see clearly from this side of Friday that what I call my faith slips often and easily into anxiety and disappointment. Yet, something of this day now grows inside me convincing me just more that a great Mystery is closer than I often realize.
And like the slow unfolding journey of faith itself, I find myself renewed and just noticeably matured. I come to realize more that hope does not abandon us even in instances of apparent hopelessness, and that the storms about which we often fear the worst tend to become the very experiences that bring us ever upward into the image and presence of God. Onwards with resolve.