Falling

The splendor of the leaves and their far-too-fast descent remind me of a beautiful poem by the German poet, Rainer Maria Rilke. I’ll let him do the work this time, not complicating the simple beauty he presents with my added words.

Autumn

The leaves are falling, falling as from far off,
as though far gardens withered in the skies;
they are falling with denying gestures.

And in the nights the heavy earth is falling
from all the stars down into loneliness.

We are all falling. This hand falls.
And look at others; it is in them all.

And yet there is One who holds this falling
endlessly gently in his hands.

When the Exciting Journey Becomes Tiring, Carry On

Over three years ago, I filled a hiking backpack, flew to Europe, and walked El Camino de Santiago. The first day on the Camino, though difficult, was exhilarating. We walked from the beautiful little town of Saint-Jean-Pied-de-Port in France, over the Pyrenees, and into Roncesvalles in Spain. The newness of the adventure combined with spectacular views made me excited nearly every step of the way.

The next morning, we were tired and sore, but eager to continue this 500-mile trek. So we set out again, walking for hours, taking in gorgeous scenery, and dining at little cafes or from our packed lunches.

Then we did that again. And again.

Sleep, rise, walk, eat, walk, Mass, eat, sleep. Repeat.

The tiredness soon was eclipsed by pain. My feet ached in a way they never had before. Blisters developed in tender places. The beginning of the day meant pressing my feet into my shoes and then starting the delicate process of walking. After a while, the pain dulled and seemed to fade into my subconscious. However, if we ever paused, my feet gave a fiery reminder to sit down or keep walking.

Yet even these blisters didn’t completely dampen my spirits. I knew they could happen and it was, in a way, part of the Camino adventure. Each day, I offered up my pain for different intentions and this made the journey a pilgrimage instead of a hiking trip.

One day, I no longer wanted to walk.

The intense desires to sleep in, be in the same place for more than 15 hours, or watch a movie were things I hadn’t anticipated when I started walking. There was a definite shift from “This is fun!” to “This is a pilgrimage.” Internally resistant to another day of plodding along, I realized that this adventure would require work and an embracing of the daily struggle.

And then I realized, this is a lot like life. Continue reading “When the Exciting Journey Becomes Tiring, Carry On” →

When Simplicity Must Be Chosen

Nearly three years ago, I strapped on a hiking backpack and walked five hundred miles. As I walked El Camino de Santiago, people crossed my path who were completing the pilgrimage for the second or third time. While beautiful, I wondered why people would complete this trek multiple times. Once will be enough for me, I thought.

Yet now and again, I find myself longing to be on some dusty trail in the midst of the Spanish countryside. It isn’t because of my love for travel, although I suppose that does play a role. My desire to be on the Camino for a second time stems largely from my desire for simplicity.

On the Camino, it is easy to be simple. In fact, it is almost a requirement that one be simple. On your back, you carry all of your clothes, sleeping bag, toiletries, etc. Everything you think you will need along the Way, you must plod every blessed mile with it fastened to your back.

Sometimes it annoyed me to live so simply. I wanted a different outfit to wear. I was surprised at how much I found myself longing for a real towel and not the travel towel I would use each day. At times I wished to simply remain in the same place for more than an evening. There were several things that made me not like living simply.

Yet, in a very authentic way, I realized my heart was made for simplicity. When my closet of clothes overflows and the laundry basket is full, when my bookshelves no longer have room for the books I insist on buying, or when I find myself shopping online for things I realize I do not need, I remember that my heart is a simple heart. Yet I wish simplicity was forced upon me instead of needing to be chosen.

My possessions have a weight and I want to be free.

Sitting in a cluttered room, I find myself slightly jealous of my older sisters and their vows of poverty. To be free to be poor. I know I romanticize poverty, but there is a longing in my heart for less. And in that less, I know I will find more.

But the Lord answered her, “Martha, Martha, you are anxious and troubled about many things; one thing is needful. Mary has chosen the good portion, which shall not be taken away from her.”

Luke 10:41-42

For over thirty days, I walked the Camino and if I did it again, I would pack less. There is a simple beauty in choosing between two outfits. There is a simplicity found in needing to walk a few miles each day. I’ve never been so aware of my feet before. And rarely have I felt like I’ve spent the entire day just being and walking in the Lord’s company. Those lovely, simple things make the Camino something I wish I could be doing right now. Continue reading “When Simplicity Must Be Chosen” →

Captivated By a Baby

He is only five, but he seemed fixated by the scene unfolding before him. A mother of a newborn baby girl was gently unzipping the covering, unfastening the safety restraints, and then cradling the baby in her arms. My nephew is five years old, but he watched this all attentively. It was at Christmas morning Mass and so I could not help but be struck by the fact that the attention was focused on a baby.

My nephew didn’t say anything as he watched this all unfold and I doubt he reflected on it later. But it seemed fitting to me that such close attention was being paid to one in the same position that Christ Himself was in nearly two thousand years ago. A baby, small and frail, cradled in the arms of a mother.

Jesus, though God, was fully human. The arrivals of shepherds and wise men were most likely events by which He was unconcerned. At birth, babies can typically see the 8-10 inches between their faces and their parents’ faces but not further. So as Mary and Joseph are pondering the shepherds that came to kneel before their son, He is simply gazing into the face of His mother. Continue reading “Captivated By a Baby” →

In Defense of Travel

My parents never placed great emphasis on having things. We were far from impoverished, but I grew up knowing that we wouldn’t have the newest and latest gadget or toy. The car I drove throughout high school was fondly nicknamed “The Beast,” largely because it was old, rusty, and muffler-less. Our go-to cups for my niece and nephews are the cleaned out Kraft cheese spread glass containers from the many cheese balls my mom has made over the years. Our compost buckets are emptied out ice cream pails and it is a struggle to remember a time when my parents let me throw away food from my supper plate.

Although these stories of my thrifty parents are nothing compared to my grandparents’ stories (the masters of frugal living, I believe), it was different from the way that many others in my generation grew up. I am at the younger end in my family and so most of my high school friends had parents who were significantly younger. Depending on how you break up generations, my older siblings could belong to a different generation than me. Whatever the reason, I grew up knowing that things can provide only so much happiness. Continue reading “In Defense of Travel” →

Seeking After His Heart

A Blog Following the Quest of A Human Heart

Tag: simplicity