...montana.
Sometimes it feels like we will never get out of this place, but I can't say I'm terribly unhappy about it. Montana is absolutely gorgeous! The first week was filled with mountainous terrain, but we've since flattened out into the prairie land. The morning before last, we were greeted by an incredible sunrise. There are no trees here to obstruct the view and there are remnants of flood waters resting on the plains. This makes for a breathtaking moment as the earth surrenders its embrace to the sun. The drama of the sky is perfectly mirrored in the standing water on the ground. I felt as if I were drowning in light. The many pictures I took could never do the scene justice. Terribly frustrating, yet incredibly reassuring. Wild beauty shouldn't be captured by a handful of mega pixels. Knowing that I could revisit a moment that made me feel so loved by Our Father would certainly sully it's sweet memory. Instead, I am pushed forward to discover another tender pass with the hand of God. And when my eyes are closed to the wonderland He eagerly laid before me, perhaps I will have the priceless grace to find Him within my heart.
Surprisingly, finding the time to be with The Lord is a bit of a challenge. We certainly spend a great deal of time in prayer. Daily mass is almost always at the start of our day. We pray the Liturgy of the Hours as a group twice a day. The rosary and all it's mysteries are recited throughout every shift. Every meal is blessed with a prayer. And yet, something is lacking. It is the quiet. The stillness of contemplative prayer is something many of us are pining for. We would jump at the chance to spend an hour of silence in a roadside chapel. Constant walking often equates constant talking. And even in the lulls of conversation, I find it hard to open my heart fully to the Lord with another body filling the space next to me.
As I write, I am relishing the fact that there isn't a living person within 200 feet of my swarming thoughts and I. There is a wooden playhouse on the edge of the playground at this campsite. The children are distracted by the pool and I have this entire box of sand to myself. The wind is playing with my hair and whatever the birds are talking about certainly has a joyous tone to it. I have time to revel in something as simple as feeling my bones shift in my skin. Sitting here, burrowing my toes in the sand and watching kids splash in the water brings me back to the Peace of the Lord. In moments like this I am able to recoop, remember, and meditate on the path I have been led to.
With that, I am reminded of a verse in Luke's gospel.
"Were not our hearts burning within us while He was speaking to us on the road?"
A great saint by the name Catherine of Sienna once said that if we become who we are meant to be, we will set the world on fire. I very much doubt that whatever is happening within me could be mistaken for a great source of heat. My core is barely heated by a spark. Perhaps as I learn to speak with the Lord on the road, he will bring me to His furnace of Love and my little spark will be consumed. The world is much too cold to willingly deny it the tiniest bit of warmth.
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