PHOTO: Jenn Holt

My daughter and I were driving in NE Ohio on our way to share Thanksgiving dinner with another daughter and her boyfriend. Fields stretched out on either side of the back country roads, and black buggies carrying Amish families blanketed for warmth rolled  by. Coats shining in the sun, the dark horses looked like exquisite sculptures come to life, their manes blowing along their necks. Suddenly, my daughter laughed out loud.

“Did you see that?” She asked. I hadn’t. “There was a sign that said ‘Are you ready for winter? Is your horse?”

I chuckled.

“It’s a different life, that’s for sure,” she said.

We tried to imagine what living an Amish life would be like, and wondered about their eschewing of electricity from the public grid but not electricity generated in other ways. A little research once I was home helped me understand a bit. A site called  Amish America, stated that they see reliance on the public grid as connecting them too close to the world and influences that would undermine their Christian beliefs. An outlet means all kinds of things could be plugged in: computers, television, radio, and too many labor saving devices.

While my old apartment does not have a dishwasher and I wish it did, I do remember growing up without one. Lots of stories and conversations happened while an ever-changing group of family members cleaned up after dinner. Conversations can happen in the living room while the dishwasher hums in the kitchen. I hope my next home comes equipped with one, but I can appreciate the social aspects of doing without.

I appreciated arriving at my daughters in a matter of hours, not having to endure long buggy rides to visit family and friends. The Amish life is not for me. Still, the human family can learn from one another, and I left Amish country wondering how my spirit might benefit from a bit less screen time and a bit more quiet time.

Once I took a creative writing class at the local university branch. “You have to show up,” the instructor said. “No matter how much or how little you write, everyday, you have to put your behind in the chair and be there. You might write a sentence. You might write a paragraph, or on a good day, you might write pages. But, you’ll never write anything if you don’t show up!”

Something similar can be said for prayer and today was a reminder of that. I didn’t show up. Not right away, I told myself. I woke up and sat in bed with my ipad, checking emails, then Facebook, looking for news of the ENDA vote to come later. I posted a few articles about the upcoming vote and its importance. Would get to prayer in just a few more minutes. I should post a couple of short blogs. I had been away for so long during the pre and post knee surgery, that I should post a couple.

But something was wrong! I couldn’t access my blog site either as editor or reader. Had my domain name registration lapsed? Did I need to do something. I’d get to prayer, but first I needed to call my web designer and email the domain holder. This could be a disaster. Then I called the blog hosting company. Ah, the problem was with their server. I should try again. I did. It worked! Hurray. I posted a blog or two.

Then I had some cinnamon sugar toast because I was hungry and the morning was cold enough that tea and toast sounded just right. A friend was coming over for lunch, and even though I know she doesn’t care what my house looks like and even though my daughter swept and mopped the kitchen floor last night, I wanted to clean up the bathroom and through the tablecloth in the washer and dryer. I saw the candle and labyrinth as I walked by to the carry the laundry downstairs. “In a minute.”

Then, of course, I had to clean myself up. I would get to quiet prayer after that. A shower takes a little longer now with my knee not quite as limber as before surgery.  And then I checked on the ENDA vote again. Then I noticed the kitchen sink and dishes that my daughter had washed the night before waiting to be put away. I had the candle out. I’d be there in just a few minutes, after I tackled the dishes.

Then there were calls. And then I began writing some notes for an article I wanted to write. Then my friend came. And you know how this ends. Not well.

“You gotta show up!”

I wasn’t prepared for the ups and downs of recovery after last month’s knee replacement surgery. I expected pain, but not the exhaustion, mood swings, and  inability to get anything done. (I’m reminded of the line from Larry Shue’s funny play, “The Foreigner.” I felt like “a waste of food!”) Sleep. Eat. Watch Netflix. Read. Sleep some more. That was about it.

My prayer practice was not spared. To be honest, I had neglected quiet prayer and Lectio Divina before surgery, too. So, today, after feeling that I finally had turned a corner, I decided to begin again. For the next month or so, I’ll share my journey on this blog…

I lit the beeswax candle, adding some extra wax trimmed from the top, to keep it burning longer. I made tea in my round mug because it is good to hold and I was cold. I put on some Mozart to mask sounds from the flat above mine, and  laid out a small pewter labyrinth. I picked up the stylus and began to move it along the labyrinth, trying to concentrate on the path and quiet my mind. “Trying” is the operative word. And none too successful.

Perhaps most telling was the fact that despite moving the stylus slowly and carefully through the twists and turns, I never reached the center. Instead, I surprised myself by exiting at the edge…where I had begun. Sigh. I must have jumped over a ridge. Or something. I thought I had been careful.

“Being present,” I thought. I need practice.

Watanabe Sado (1913-1996) Tokyo. Stencil print on rice paper.Hangs in the Gathering Place at the entrance to Sacred Heart Chapel at Saint Benedict’s Monastery, St. Joseph, MN

Today is the Feast of All Saints, known and unknown. And as Catholics might say, Canonized and uncanonized. Nadia Bolz-Weber, author of a book I have just finished (more on that in another post) would likely say, all of us. It is a wonderful day to remember all those who have gone before us, people of faith, doing their best, some shining brighter than others, giving us hope and encouragement along our way.

A friend posted an comment on All Saints Day on her facebook page today, saying St. Germaine Cousin was her favorite. I have only recently discovered St. Germaine. My physical therapists asked if I knew of a patron saint for their profession. After some searching, I found the Franciscans had given St. Germaine that honor, though she is more often referred to as the patron of abused children.

One of my favorite saints is Benedict of Nursia. His Rule has been a guide for spiritual seekers every generation since it was written in the early sixth century. I first came under the Benedictine influence when my middle daughter attended the College of Saint Benedict/Saint John’s University in Collegeville, MN. From the first time I entered the large abbey church on the campus of Saint John’s and listened to a homily that welcomed all and felt the warmth of Benedictine hospitality to the present, I have found inspiration and encouragement in the Benedictine way.

Later, I myself took classes at Saint John’s School of Theology and spent a year at the Collegeville Institute for Ecumenical & Cultural Research there. During those times, I treasured the opportunity to join the monks and sometimes the sisters at Mass and in the Liturgy of the Hours. Now, I try to read and meditate on a bit of Benedict’s rule each day. (I use the book, “The Rule of Benedict: A Spirituality for the 21st Century” by Joan Chittister as my guide.) Do you have a saint who speaks deeply to your heart? Share with us!