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Renewal will come when release is the only answer to fear.

Yes, the water was very cold. But then you get used to it.

On this third day of Pilgrimage: we started with renewing our baptismal vows at the River Jordan (photo shown above). Next, we made our journey through bus views of Jericho and had a walking journey in Jerusalem that followed the Palm Sunday route (where I really felt the pilgrim feelings). We ended our night in Bethlehem with the moving and inspiring story of Daoud and his Palestinian Christian family’s perseverance to hold on to their rightfully owned land. Their story spans 30+ years; it is still in progress. (https://tentofnations.com/)

As for me personally: I started my day with an uncharacteristically very early morning run to see the sunrise. I also figured out why the birds seemed so loud in the morning: I found one of them singing away at the stairway near my door.

If I had to use one word to describe this day, then it would be…

Renewal

3/7/2023 10:45 pm

Dear Renewal,

You are the promise hidden from anxious breath as time runs through my lungs. Longing left you ages ago. Lightly the day starts pregnant with potential. Nightly it reconciles death, as midnight draws a circle around the hour. But you are bound by no clocks, no bells, no regrets. You are there when disappointment has left me in cauliflower fields to harvest apricots. You hold my hand when it grips for yearnings with frightened fists and torn finger nails. As I collapse into caves carved into Jericho’s mountain, you pull me away from the Lion of Darkness who seeks to devour me. Renewal, you will come when release is the only answer to fear. And so you find me, again and again.

As I stood in the River Jordan, feet anchored on silt and legs free from boredom of pants, I felt your energy rush to golden sky through my rusted crown. Sealed with fate’s intentions and thawed in oil, my forehead rested in surrender to your voiceless words; my clasped hands opened their trembles to your warmth.

I know not the destination of this train. I only know that God stays with me in the car, even when all mirrors sing lonesome songs to my soul. You, Renewal, are the station that we return to after my failed attempts to design the next train stop.

Sometimes I wonder when my destination will arrive. I am overcome by emptiness as others leave their train cars at stops where I long to disembark. But that is not my journey; I remain aboard. Then I hear God’s voice over the Conductor’s speaker. He tells me: “You will be okay. You are okay.”

And that is how I know that it is you. You are the next stop.

D.D.D. (Done Designing Detours)

A Woman’s Perspective

I hemorrhaged once too like this woman, immediately after my son was born. We spent days in the hospital together, me with dangerously low hematocrit and him yellow-skinned. I sang and prayed us through those days. And learned to soothe myself by rubbing the tops of my feet on the bed sheets.

Yesterday we visited five or six churches (I lost count) in northern Israel where Jesus walked and healed.

Today, I woke early stroking the tops of my feet on the sheets. Was I caressing myself? Or deep in the sense of what Christ, in His Body, had given me?

Mark 5:29 – Immediately the fountain of her blood was dried up, and she felt in her body that she was healed of the affliction.

Postscript

“Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the land.”

On this second day of Pilgrimage, we spent the day traveling around the Sea of Galilee, from Capernum to Magdala. And I intentionally made time to write poetry before dinner. The above photo is of the chapel at the Mount of The Beatitudes. I sat in the garden area and wrote a poem while facing the sea. (And then scurried back to the bus; I guess I got a quick morning run in after all.) Then a mosaic in a chapel at the Magdala site inspired a second poem that I started on the bus and finished while facing the sea in a courtyard with a glass of wine.

Beatitudes

Linger my thoughts adorned in fears, for I am lost in worry of

Moments who are yet to come near. Then I found my heart on

A stairway up to the seat of Beatitudes. Wandering winds pull

My hair forward to kiss the sun. And skeleton branches stand

Tall, reaching for blessings from The One. In all our spirits live

A purpose to be in God’s love. I breathe in dreams of hope at the

Mount that hills won. The Sea of Galilee calls me to sit

In silence and remember that I am scattered before its dawn.

Magdala

Raise me up, Oh Lord, from my sea of troubles, so that I

May feel light in my darkness for days. When water springs up

Doubts falling from fickle clouds, trees claw for their past in

Forgotten soil. Lift up my spirit from this rainbow storm

And we shall bleed healing oil from olive trees. Hold my heart

With your Truth of Tranquility. And I shall lose my tears

In the Sea of Galilee.

Taken Blessed Broken Given

Sometimes it writes itself: Immediately after the service at the outdoor chapel between the Sea of Galilee and the Church of the Multiplication, I posted this with fresh pomegranate juice in hand and e-juice on the bus.

During his homily, Steve encouraged us to live “eucharistically.” Literally, this word means “giving thanks.”

Some days it’s easy to do.

This was the first full day of the Pilgrimage. I found myself inspired to take photos where church met sky; the image above was my favorite photo from the collection. We were on top of Mount Tabor and this cross calmly sat on ruins from the Byzantine era. (Guess how many takes it took to get this shot without any people or my lingering ring finger in it?)

And now, some end of day poetry…

3/5/2023 9:57 pm

Dear The Shift,

When the hours came close to me for my departure and your arrival, I felt your energy swirling round. A new perspective: I knew I had to face you. Change the way I see what I lack in this world. While I search for that I miss, I am blind to the bird who sings her gifts for me. A mourning song awakens my morning run to the sea.

I lie here in the region of Galilee, longing only to be, while wrapped in stories of ruins built stone upon stone. What is pilgrimage if not a personal mission to find answers to questions that you did not ask?

I have not found one yet. And that is good. For it is I who spent my lifetime looking. In these holy days, I hope to just be. In a cricket’s silent night, I raise my head to sky and follow the moon’s trail. He shall lead me to the beginning of my fate. And I will find you there.

Without a plan,

Pilgrim Seeking Pilgrimage