Sometimes comes a time in one's place when a more intense form of silence is to be observed. This is nothing new to me. The call to be quiet, to be immersed in God alone is a place he draws me to. Every other month I stay in a monastery for two days and one night. Something out of the ordinary, however, had to occur in me for a big pause to take place -- a place where God's embrace and the outpouring of his most loving presence is felt in a different way. I was ill for awhile. Though I may not have understood why it had to happen, I do now, and it's all that matters. It has been a long journey to full recovery, but necessary. Things have been then become arranged in proper places, as God designed them to be. I am very close to full recovery and -- funny as it may seem -- sometimes, I'd find myself wishing that the time of recuperation was longer. I cannot kid myself, of course. Time moves with God's plans. I am almost there. I know because the line of things needed to be done has become clearer, and longer. It's almost time to swing to full speed.
Anyhow, I'd like to share with you a poem I had written possibly five years ago. I didn't know why I wrote it then, but at the time of illness which occurred months ago, this poem seemed to fit. Mind you, it has a gloomy tone, as gloomy as one's experiences when one is in a desert. I call it my "dark night of the soul," which certainly is, to me, a resonance yet just a small taste of the dark night of the soul of my favorite male saint, St. John of the Cross.
I thank you for listening. Here's the poem:
At the Hawaii Catholic Herald, On This Journey of Drought.
Books about or by St. John of the Cross may be purchased at Pauline Books and Media website, or at any of their stores. Thank you.