Eyes to See, Eyes that Watch

I awakend this morning to hear voices in the kitchen and went to join them. The scent of fresh coffee was wafting through the house. This house in Budapest where I am staying is full of treasures that tell stories and reflect the Swedish heritage of our hosts. A beautiful grand piano extends the invitation to come and let my fingers express emotions that have no words. This place is indeed a sanctuary to our team of 8 women travelling together.

We have just come from 8 days in Moldova, one of the poorest countries in Eastern Europe. It has rich beautiful land that lies waiting for someone to come and nurture it again. The oldest generation cares for the youngest generation and those in between have left for countries where they try to find work. The oldest generation of women are bent and worn and look out from hollow eyes, and many of them are slowly starving to death. The young ones run wild, trying to fill the holes left by being emotionally and literally abandoned. As we walked to various places our team realized that we were the only ones around laughing. We have had so much fun together but it is a strange feeling to know we are the only ones expressing this joy through laughter and delight together.

One of the most profound moments came when I was in a grocery store buying bottled water. Every step I took was watched with somber, almost intimidating gaze. Every detail of me was being taken as some kind of data it seemed. When I inquired about this behaviour, which follows us everywhere we go, it was explained how Communism wove suspicion into the depths of everyones soul. No one trusts anyone and you never knew who would betray you - family, friends, spouse, children, or workplace. My heart began to break and this concept is lingering in my thoughts.

I am a contemplative, an observer, one who loves to watch life - not with suspicion but with a wide eyed wonder that finds mystery and delight in what I see. This wonder comes from a freedom within my heart and soul, and freedom that I am surrounded by. My eyes love to "see" life around me in colour, scent, texture, sound, and taste.

What then would life be like if I had no freedom and had to live with eyes that watch ? This would steal life, shut down my senses, and literally anesthetize my soul. That is exactly what I have observed in Moldova, Ukraine, and Bulgaria - souls shut down. My heart wants to know how life can be revived, how the senses can experience with wonder of life again, and how the eyes can see once more? I don't know but the question keeps working away within me.

How do I as a culinary minister continue to bring life that nudges you to live with your eyes wide open and really see, not watch life? How do I take this now to a deeper level here, there, where ever the sacred space opens for me to step into in obedience?

Love does not grow in a place of suspicion - it will only be planted, watered, nurtured and flourish where there is freedom. I have not appreciated freedom, or embraced it as deeply as I could but this picture in Moldova is inviting my heart to go further and I will accept this invitation.

Contemplative Footprints

Walking this labyrinth, one foot in front of the other, deliberately, pondering, inhaling and exhaling, feeling the wind, listening to wind chimes whisper a song – all in the sacred space that has been purposefully created. As I walked towards the centre my thoughts went to pieces of the ordinary that I need not hold onto. They were exhaled with my breath – and the breath of the Almighty came as I inhaled Holy Presence, walking slowly and deliberately.

The more I deliberately tread the path of a contemplative, the deeper I can embrace the reality that this is who I am.

Where do we find Holy Presence? How do we find Holy Presence? Where does my soul, my heart, my breath cry out for the Almighty most deeply? We will find this in our own way as we search; intentionally stepping into places where deep calls to deep. Yours and mine may be dramatically different, and therein lies the wonder and mystery of how the facets of God are revealed to the soul in the language we hear. My language is the contemplative, in the words of the ancient mystics, and where the wind touches my skin.

This labyrinth is sacred space, purposefully laid out by one who invites others to come and experience what he holds out to community.

My own path has been an inward one in recent months as the invitation to explore the mystery of love has been held out to me. In the places of contemplation my heart opens to embrace more of the wonder of living, of loving and of moving into the redemption that has come.