Wherever You Go...

I hate the cold. I have never been a fan. I am from the Midwest and spent my fair share of time outside in the winter, but I always preferred a hot summer day running around shirtless, sweating in the summer sun. I know Cold though. We made friends once.

 I was working at the Saint Francis Catholic Worker in Waterloo, IA. It was my first experience of immersion. I lived and served and often did not know the difference as I slowly became part of a community. But violence would come to reign on us as a friend was taken in a shooting. Another friend died beneath a bridge. Another friend reached for help as he struggled in the grasp of mental illness and alcoholism and we all suffered as we watched him sabotage his success. Some who lived among us found they could show the worst of themselves where they knew they would still be loved, so they did and we had to evict people who could not respect the community. I loved what I was doing, but a part of me ached and I was not sure why. Community members helped me arrange a sabbatical. The first stage of the sabbatical was three days and nights at a Trappist Monastery. It was a few weeks before Christmas and the Iowa winter was already biting.

I honored the vow of silence the monks had taken and I kept silent even among the other retreatants. I read and reflected and I spent a lot of time outside, finding peace in the stillness of the trees and excitement as birds and squirrels rustled through the branches. My thick beard scarved my face but, even with gloves, my fingers ached. My body shivered and I let it. I was alone there, as alone as I'd ever been. I faced demons I had forgotten about and thought honestly about what God might be calling me to do next. There were worse things than cold and I had seen some.

I was fortunate to have those days at the monastery and I continued my spiritual journey after, then joining a friend and entering into prayer and study with a group at a retreat center in Wisconsin. When I returned to the Worker, my housemates were decorating the Christmas tree they had gotten while I was away. The house had light and color and I felt awake. Maybe I had needed the break. Maybe I could have listened better to my friends and let them help me through. Whatever the case, eventually I left the Catholic Worker and came East. Perhaps I was escaping something. But I soon learned to heed the words of author John Kabat-Zinn who penned a book entitled, "Wherever You Go, There You Are".  Maryland was a new experience with new friendships and new challenges. I was able to continue the work I believe I was called to. I had to learn to live in my skin though. I still struggle with that occasionally. Now I live in community with my family and we have a union within the community we live in. It is a rich way to live among the poor.