Driving
down a snow covered county road in Snowmass, Colorado, I approach the
Monastery, unsure of what to expect. Pinks and whites blend with the blue sky
as the sun rises in the distance. Mountains surround this valley, enclosing it
from the world. For fifty years, this Catholic Trappist Monastery has offered
daily masses to all that feel a nudge to come. I park my car, and follow a
dozen people walking towards the chapel entrance. A silence descends, putting
me in a contemplative place. Birds fly nearby, while a small squirrel scurries
along a crosstie fence. I walk inside and sit on a bench lining the nave. The chairs
in the center are reserved for the monks. Clear paned windows let in the
mountain views. The stained glass window of Mary and the enfant Jesus grace the
far end of the room, scattering colored light across the floor. There is
coolness in the air that causes me to pull my jacket tighter. Bells ring,
calling all to worship. Monks, wearing long tan belted robes, enter quietly. We
are welcomed and the service begins with a chanting of a Psalm. Voices sing in
unison and musical notes rise in praise. Peace settles and calms me. I breathe
deeply, grateful.
An hour
earlier, I lay in a warm bed, wishing I had not promised I would attend Lauds,
an early Morning Prayer and mass. Dressing before dawn was challenging. I am
not a morning person, especially when morning begins in the dark. Despite this,
I know I need this experience. I am one of the ones that has been nudged.
Listening
to the homily, which speaks of Jesus’s unfathomable love for us, I am inspired
to love more deeply. Love seems too simple a catalyst for change, but I believe
in its power. The priest says that we do not need our head to come to prayer,
only our heart. I realize that I am constantly bringing my mind, with all its
busyness. When I open my heart, I become centered on what is truly important. For
me, my relationship with God is at the core. Why have I let other things fill
that space? I am convicted to come home.
One of the
monks invites us to the Eucharist. We form a circle around the Altar, with monks
forming half the circle and laypeople completing it. With the last word of the
Lord’s Prayer spoken together, we approach the priest passing out the wafer and
blessing each of us. I then drink from the consecrated chalice offered by
another monk. At this moment, I am reminded of Jesus’s sacrifice and love.
Returning to my seat, I sit in awe of His Presence.
Melpkin
Abbey, another Trappist Monastery located in Moncks Corner, South Carolina, now
beckons me. I have enjoyed walking through their botanical garden and wildflower
lined Labyrinth, and finding the banks of the Cooper River. Today, I feel
inspired to sign up for a spiritual retreat this spring. A year ago, I
considered attending, but the timing was not right. I believe it is my next
step. If Jesus needed to retreat often to spend time with His Father, how can I
think I do not need to create space for His connection?
If you have
not made the trek to Melpkin Abbey, please find the time. You will not be
disappointed. Visit my blog www.sacredgroundwriting.blogspot.com
for more information on walking the Labyrinth as a way to pray. God is waiting.
Let us meet Him in this Sacred Ground.
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