On holy ground

reconnecting with presence

Today, as a change from the regular posts, I’m taking a trip down Memory Lane as I recall an event that meant a lot to me. Let me share my story with you…

Evidence of new life was springing up all around as we drove along. My heart cheered by colour and lively vibrancy sprouting right in front of me in verdant greenery, scarlet poppies and golden rapeseed.

On reaching the entrance to our meeting room, a holy cloud seemed to hover in the air, signalling mystery and invitation. The atmosphere hung heady with incense. A soothing scent to calm my racing heart.

I hesitated in the doorway and was soon met with a warm, welcoming hug and friendly smiles. We were ushered into the room where preparations were already in hand.

Little did I know how participatory the service would be, or how much it would both exhaust and exhilarate me.

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My eyes were drawn to an intriguing array of musical instruments on the floor, alongside books, sheets of paper, artwork, cup and bowl at the ready to play their part.

Anticipatory excitement and nerves shot through me. It had been way too long since I’d met with other believers like this.

It had felt like grace abounding to be able to make it out to an evening talk on Hildegard of Bingen held there two days previously.

I didn’t expect to be blessed to attend this Eucharist service too, partly helped by my husband’s gentle persistence and a better sleep than usual.

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Two years previously I had been offered a quiet, personal holy communion in my room by a priest when I was on retreat at All Hallows Community Convent in Ditchingham.

It’s been longer still since having bread and wine at my home church. Attendance in person at services is more than I can cope with. Too long. Too overwhelming for my senses. Too exhausting in every way.

Having M.E, and various other chronic illnesses, coupled with severe pain, means that fellowship has become more of an on-line occurrence than being physically present with others gathering together in God’s presence.

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Now, in this sacred sharing space, we read together, learnt new songs, sang unaccompanied (I croaked and coughed). We hummed (I think I was out of tune) and played an instrument of our choice (I picked maracas) to a sung poem.

We admired art work which some had done the day before and attempted our own. We served one another bread and wine, offered praise, gave responses and a concluding peace blessing.

I sat as usual, my limbs not up to the task of rising and standing or walking around. The more able-bodied women made sure I was included in everything. It helped that my dear daughter-in-law sat companionably beside me.

To have so many different things to join in with caused me to feel flat-out with fatigue as things finally came to a close.

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Tears pricked my eyes. I didn’t try to hide them. They felt fitting and releasing somehow, welcomed even, in an environment as understanding and kind as this.

I cried… because it was so overwhelming to be part of a worshipping community again, to participate in holy communion, to feel loved and accepted by soul-sister strangers, to unleash creative expression once more.

I had no strength left for anything else and could barely speak for the effort. I needed time to sit, drink some water, wait a while and recover before I could articulate what had made me emotional.

And I sensed a touch from God as words spoken in a recent bible reading resonated in my soul.

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He reminded me that I was precious to him just as I am, and although the locusts may have stolen years and health, my latter days could be more fruitful than the former.

Yes, even now, coming late in life to write online and open my heart and mind to offer hope and encouragement to others who are struggling.

As those who have walked a challenging, painful path before me could attest, these latter years can be our best yet because we finally think, ‘Why not?’ instead of ‘Why me?’

Why not… write a blog, write poetry, write books, belong to on-line communities, join in, get involved, stand up for something you feel passionate about, be generous, be compassionate, encourage, make a difference in the lives of others?

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The righteous will flourish like a palm tree,

they will grow like a cedar of Lebanon;

planted in the house of the Lord,

they will flourish in the courts of our God.

They will still bear fruit in old age,

they will stay fresh and green,

proclaiming, “The Lord is upright;

he is my Rock, and there is no wickedness in him.”

— Psalm 92:12-15 NIV

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Manna fell

I brought my weakness
and vulnerability
joining soul-sisters
in community.

And I found my voice
while notes wafted round
redolent and full
as incense in the room.

Each vibration seemed
like it was sounding
a death-knell to loneliness
a call to unity
a warm, welcome caress.

I drank proffered cup
swallowed bread offering
sensed a hum of healing
hovering inside of me.

And my heart opened up
embraced gift of grace
made way for Presence
savoured his essence.

As I took a sip of Life
and Love, manna fell
freely and I found my
grateful soul kneeling.
© joylenton

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My outing revealed how little it actually takes to make me feel truly blessed (and extremely weary), and how thankful I am for the rare occasions when I can leave the house and enjoy meeting up with people.

Just seeing the landscape unfurling before me on the drive there and back was a thing of wonder. Beauty wears many faces.

Holy ground is all around because God is everywhere, in the normal, run-of-the-mill, practical and prosaic everyday where we live.

Sometimes, all it takes is a special gift of grace for us to appreciate just how much he exists in the mundane moments which we are all in danger of taking for granted.

My friend, I pray that you may sense him in those times, hear his voice affirming his great, unconditional love for you, and open your heart to the holy ache of ordinary which God abundantly inhabits with his loving presence.

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NOTE:

The event I’ve described here happened several years ago but it still reverberates in my soul and brings me joy. Sadly, the All Hallows Community Convent in Ditchingham no longer exists because it has become a home for the Emmaus Norfolk & Waveney Homeless Charity instead.

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