Christine Valters Paintner's Blog, page 58

Monk in the World Guest Post: Lisa Deam

I am delighted to share another beautiful submission to the Monk in the World guest post series from the community. Read on for Lisa Deam's reflection about inner pilgrimage in this time of pandemic.

Thanks to the pandemic, we’ve all become a little monkish, whether we want to or not. I’ll admit that the recent months of isolation haven’t always felt very sacred to me. As I continue to restrict my movements out of extra caution, I’ve deeply missed the ordinary activities of daily life, such as gathering with friends and writing in coffee shops. And I mourn the loss of larger opportunities. For example, a friend invited me to join a pilgrimage . . . just before the pandemic began.

Wrestling with the “new normal” of pandemic life, I’ve found it worthwhile to read the Christian mystics, many of whom did not travel because they were enclosed monks, nuns, or anchorites. Perhaps because they accepted a life of voluntary restriction, they understood that journeys do not always involve footsteps. These mystics are good companions as we sit on our sofas and dream of roads not taken.

One mystic who wrote about alternative forms of travel is the Augustinian canon Walter Hilton. In the 1390s, Hilton wrote a contemplative treatise that is today known as the Scale of Perfection. In a section of this treatise, he counsels readers to take an interior pilgrimage—that is, a pilgrimage in their spiritual life. Hilton asks us to imagine that we are on our way to Jerusalem, one of the farthest distances a medieval pilgrim could travel, and one of the holiest.

Our whole life is like a journey spent traveling this long and sacred road, Hilton says. In its own way, the road of life is every bit as adventurous as a physical pilgrimage. The road gives us new scenery and challenges each day as we take steps into the future God has for us.

Hilton’s counsel helped me the past few months, especially as spring and summer turned into fall and the Advent season approached. Advent and Christmas are my favorite times of the year, and they are usually marked by journeys, just as Mary and Joseph journeyed to Bethlehem and the wise men began their even longer trek there. This year will not see me imitating these biblical travelers, however. I won’t be able to take my usual pilgrimage to see beloved family and friends. I may not even be able to go the shorter distance to attend Christmas services at my church.

In my disappointment, Hilton reminds me that there are many ways to pilgrim. While outer journeys are meaningful, the inner journey is essential. Whatever restrictions confine me to my home, no ties bind my heart. In my spiritual life, I can still journey to Bethlehem to welcome the infant Jesus. And each day, I continue walking with him on the winding road of life.

This practice of spiritual pilgrimage guides me through the long days of pandemic and the equally challenging days of just keeping my faith alive. It’s important to remember that I am always going forward. Sometimes I use my imagination as I practice the inner journey. In the spirit of a pilgrim, I “see” and “experience” all kinds of terrain: steep mountains that require all my strength to climb, turbulent seas that toss me about, and vistas of heartbreaking beauty that restore my soul. Or, if I’m on my way to the stable, as I am this season, I follow the Bethlehem road. I descend into valleys, cross over the wilderness (there’s a metaphor if I’ve ever heard one!), and go up and down the hilly terrain of Judea before arriving, spent but exhilarated, to kneel like a shepherd before the child. These envisionings give me a sense of the spiritual journey’s adventure and the reward that awaits me at the end.

Yes, I might sometimes chafe at the walls of my temporary cell. But my heart flies, my spirit soars, and the feet of my soul are in motion. Far from being stalled, my life flows ever forward. I am a pilgrim today.

Lisa Deam, Ph.D., is the author of the forthcoming book, 3000 Miles to Jesus: Pilgrimage as a Way of Life for Spiritual Seekers (Broadleaf, February 2021) and host of TheContemplativeWriter.com

 

 

 

Please vote in Bangor Poetry Competition

Christine Valters Paintner is excited to share that she is shortlisted for the Bangor Poetry Competition and has a favor to ask of you!

Will you please go to this link and vote for my poem (#15 Field Notes on Being an Orphan.) It is a poem quite close to her heart and many of you will recognize pieces of her journey in it.

You have to vote for your first, second, and third choices for your vote to count and there are several wonderful poems there. Pour some tea and give yourself a few minutes to read through the finalists.

A deep bow of gratitude to you for your support and especially if you make the time to vote.

Voting ends on December 12th.

 

Give Me a Word 2021

SHARE YOUR WORD FOR 2021

In ancient times, wise men and women fled out into the desert to find a place where they could be fully present to the divine and to their own inner struggles at work within them. The desert became a place to enter into the refiner's fire and be stripped down to one's holy essence. The desert was a threshold place where you emerged different than when you entered.

Many people followed these ammas and abbas, seeking their wisdom and guidance for a meaningful life. One tradition was to ask for a word – this word or phrase would be something on which to ponder for many days, weeks, months, sometimes a whole lifetime. This practice is connected to lectio divina, where we approach the sacred texts with the same request – "give me a word" we ask – something to nourish me, challenge me, a word I can wrestle with and grow into. The word which chooses us has the potential to transform us.

What is your word for the year ahead? A word which contains within it a seed of invitation to cross a new threshold in your life?

Share your word in the comments section below by January 6, 2021 and you are automatically entered for the prize drawing (prizes listed below).

A FREE 12-DAY ONLINE MINI-RETREAT TO HELP YOUR WORD CHOOSE YOU. . .

As in past years, we are offering all Abbey newsletter subscribers a gift: a free 12-day online mini-retreat with a suggested practice for each day to help your word choose you and to deepen into your word once it has found you. Even if you participated last year, you are more than welcome to register again.

Subscribe to our email newsletter and you will receive a link to start your mini-retreat today. Your information will never be shared or sold. (If you are already subscribed to the newsletter, look for the link in the Sunday, December 6th email and at the bottom of each Sunday following).

WIN A PRIZE – RANDOM DRAWING GIVEAWAY ENTER BY JANUARY 6th!

One person will win a space in our online Lent 2021 retreat on the Desert Mothers and Fathers
Four people will win their choice of our self-study online retreats (with 15 to choose from!)
One signed copy of The Wisdom of Wild Grace: Poems by Christine Valters Paintner
One signed copy of Dreaming of Stones: Poems by Christine Valters Paintner
One signed copy of Earth, Our Original Monastery: Cultivating Wonder & Gratitude through Intimacy with Nature by Christine Valters Paintner

Please share your word with us in the comments below

(and it would be wonderful if you included a sentence about what it means for you)

Subscribe to the Abbey of the Arts newsletter to receive ongoing inspiration in your in-box. You can choose daily, weekly, or monthly. Share the love with others and invite them to participate. Then stay tuned – on January 10th we will announce the prize winners!

Celtic Spirituality Reflection and Interview

Christine Valters Paintner recently wrote a reflection for A New Eden Ministry on Celtic spirituality and the Incarnation.

"When we awaken to the holy shimmering in each flower, tree, and bird, we suddenly discover that we are woven into a vast community. We find ourselves nourished and supported in ways we didn’t see before. We are called to hold this deepening awareness and trust that we are sustained and called forth by the choirs of creation.

During this Advent season of holy birthing, the Celtic tradition can remind us of the full meaning of the incarnation. Every created thing reveals the divine nature to us. Christ is being born all around us. As we journey toward the feast of Christmas, we might take time to walk our own landscape with eyes open to the wonder of God made visible in the world around us. In a time of worsening climate crisis, the Celtic vision of creation is one that asks us to fall more deeply in love with the world around us."

In addition she was interviewed on Spirit Mornings Catholic Radio about her book The Soul's Slow Ripening: 12 Celtic Practices for Seeking the Sacred.

SpiritCatholicRadio · 11 – 30 – 20 Christine Valters Paintner – Author – The Soul's Slow Ripening

Monk in the World Guest Post: Pat Leyko Connelly

I am delighted to share another beautiful submission to the Monk in the World guest post series from the community. Read on for Pat Leyko Connelly's poem reflection, "When Winter Moves In."

Snow falling so hard

like lace curtains falling from the sky.

“It’s beautiful” I say.

As it blesses the air it passes through and the ground it falls upon!

Those beautiful bright winter days, those are the ones I dream of…with blue sky and brilliant bright sun!

I go for walks and the cold air chills my face and fogs up my glasses!

But it is beautiful, this winter, and is refreshing to my soul and makes me feel alive! This cold wakes me up to this winter wonderland.

Yet now these days seem a bit more grey and cold and damp.

It’s too cold to go out for those glorious winter walks.

It seems as though winter has “moved in” on this February day.

I stay inside curled up and warm with my cup of tea and book by the fire… a contemplatives dream !

I peer out my window now to empty streets of white and grey …no one seems to be “taking a hike” today.

So, I’ll stay in, secluded like a good Monk in her cell, silent and enjoying the quiet, cloaked in the warmth with the hum of the furnace that now sounds like Monk companions chanting .

Counting my blessings and trusting that Seasons do come and go!

After 28 years in Parish Ministry; Music, Religious Education and Retreat Work, Pat Leyko Connelly is now retired with her husband in Weston Vermont. Her new ministry and Spiritual practice has become writing Haiku prayers with photo's and poetry and reflections. She enjoys singing and playing guitar.

Prayer Cycle Podcast + Advent Contemplative Services ~ A Love Note from Your Online Abbess

Earth Monastery Prayer Cycle: Day 5 Morning Prayer from Abbey of the Arts on Vimeo.

Click here to listen to the audio version of the prayer cycle

Day 5 Morning Prayer: Earth Monastery Prayer Cycle

I came here to study hard things – rock mountain and salt sea – and to temper my spirit on their edges.  "Teach me thy ways, O Lord" is, like all prayers, a rash one, and one I cannot but recommend.  These mountains — Mount Baker and the Sisters and Shuksan, the Canadian Coastal Range and the Olympics on the peninsula — are surely the edge of the known and comprehended world….  That they bear their own unimaginable masses and weathers aloft, holding them up in the sky for anyone to see plain, makes them, as Chesterton said of the Eucharist, only the more mysterious by their very visibility and absence of secrecy. 

—Annie Dillard

Dearest monks and artists,

I can remember so clearly that crisp day while I was on retreat at the Columbia River Gorge which marks the border between Oregon and Washington States.  Mount Hood appeared brilliant against the pale blue sky where the day before it had been shrouded in mist.  I was filled with awe and felt connected to the wonder this sight must have inspired in native peoples walking this land long ago, and why this mountain would have been considered sacred.  Mountains have always been places of theophany – an encounter with holiness – such as Moses at Mount Sinai where he received God’s laws and saw God’s face.  Mount Tabor in Israel is where Jesus became transfigured before his disciples.  The Northwest is dotted with these reminders of the majestic nature of the divine.  Mount Rainier and Mount Baker hover magically above the Northwest landscape and evoke a sense of awe those days they are not hidden by our typically grey skies. The days they are revealed are treasured among those who pay attention.

There are more references to mountains and hills in the Bible than to any other geographical feature. Noah’s ark came to rest on a mountain; God tested Abraham on a mountain, Moses receives the Ten Commandments on a mountain.  Jesus goes to a mountain to pray, Mount of Olives, before his crucifixion on a hill. Mountains stretch our imaginations upward in celebration of a transcendent God who creates with such glory and majesty.

In the fifth century, St. Patrick went up the sacred mountain, now called Croagh Patrick and fasted at the summit for forty days.  It is now known as Ireland’s pilgrimage mountain because more than a million people each year come to climb it and connect with the longing for God that carried St Patrick to its summit.  This mountain had already been sacred to ancient Celtic people who celebrated the harvest festival at this site.  The Celts call the places where heaven and earth meet “thin places.”

The metaphor of ascent — climbing the holy mountain – is a dominant one in spiritual language.  There is great challenge in rising higher and higher as the air for breath grows thinner and colder.  Climbing mountains is a physical and spiritual goal.  There is something about the image of ascension, reaching the highest peaks, and then taking in the perspective. We speak of “mountaintop experiences” as those which move us to awe and wonder, memorable moments where we transcended our narrow daily concerns.

As a child, my family would go to the Tyrolean mountains in my father’s native Austria. I remember with such fondness the preparation of gear, putting on the proper socks and boots, packing a rucksack with lunch and drink, and carrying my hiking stick. At each summit we reached, a new medallion would be attached to it.  I loved the collection that spanned my stick and indicated those places to which I had taken the difficult journey.  And as I savored the journey upon my return, I saw in my heart a swelling up that mirrored this grand mountain.  I discovered a powerful rising of hope within me, even larger than any earthly mountain.  A world where we stand in awe of a great and sacred power pulsing through the world, made visible in grand and sacred.

Consider placing a stone on your altar from the geology of where you live. Spend some time in prayer connecting with this stone as symbol for what endures. In these difficult days of pandemic, how might you root yourself more deeply with Earth to find your place of centering and resilience? Remember a time when your heart felt full of hope and perspective. You might remove your shoes and stand on the soil to acknowledge it, like Moses, as holy ground.

To help provide you with some steady ground during this Advent season we are offering you, dear dancing monks, a weekly contemplative prayer service on Mondays. Find out more here. If you want an even deeper dive into the holy birthing Advent calls us to, join us for our online retreat which starts today.

And last, but not least, if you are looking for some Christmas gifts for yourself or loved ones, stop by this post where we have links to support Abbey artists. Kreg Yingst who is creating a series of Mary icons for us is having a sale on his beautiful prints of 20% off until December 3rd. David Hollington is making prints available of his wonderful saint and animal prints. And we are offering signed copies of my two poetry collections plus a chance to order more of our dancing monk icon card sets.

With great and growing love,

Christine  

Christine Valters Paintner, PhD, REACE

Support Abbey Artists and Poets for the Holidays!

Order Saint and Animal Prints from David Hollington

Artist David Hollington was commissioned to create 12 artworks to companion poems inspired by saint and animal stories in Christine's newest poetry collection The Wisdom of Wild Grace. David is making prints available of these artworks in A3 size (297 x 420 mm / 11.69 x 16.54 inches).

Single print cost: £35

Shipping cost: £12.50 to the US / £4 within the UK / £8.50 for any other location

To order: Please email David directly at davidhollington@gmail.com and let him know your choice of print and mailing address. He will send you a Paypal invoice for payment. Please note that due to pandemic-related postal system delays prints being shipped beyond the UK or Ireland may not arrive in time for Christmas.

These are shipped from the UK.

See all 12 individual artworks














Order Mary Icon Prints by Kreg Yingst (Sale until Dec. 3rd)

Block print artist Kreg Yingst is creating 30+ images of Mary to companion the book Christine is writing about Mary's names and titles (the book will be published in spring 2022). He is making beautiful prints of these available for purchase from his Etsy shop with a 20% discount through December 3rd. Use code: PEACE

These are shipped from the U.S.

Ave Maria Suite of Prints on Etsy














Order signed copies of Christine's poetry collections + Dancing Monk Icon Card Sets (Sale until Dec. 3rd)

Abbey of the Arts is having a FLASH SALE on signed copies of Christine's poetry collections (Dreaming of Stones and The Wisdom of Wild Grace) as well as sets of our Dancing Monk Icon Cards.

Order by December 3rd and parcels will ship out on December 4th via post from Ireland.

Visit the Abbey of the Arts Shop

Monk in the World Guest Post: Kathryn Coneway

I am delighted to share another beautiful submission to the Monk in the World guest post series from the community. Read on for Kathryn Coneway's reflection on the contemplative practice of art making during uncertain times.

“Now I am revealing new things to you

Things hidden and unknown to you

Created just now, this very moment.

Of these things you have heard nothing until now.

So that you cannot say, “Oh yes, I knew this.”

-Isaiah 48:6-7

This passage from Isaiah is one of my favorite discoveries from reading “The Artist’s Rule.”

For me, truly entering into the unknown and discovering something along the way is central to creative practice. The creative process is a great place to welcome uncertainty when the rest of life is relatively stable, but what about when life itself is filled with uncertainty?

As we are made more aware of the uncertainty always inherent in life during this pandemic, I reflect on ways my creative practice has been impacted and ways I have had to create new rituals to ground myself and offer tools for contemplation in my community.

The current focus of my work is a series, “Mother Trees,” cut paper designs celebrating voices of nurture and connection to the natural world. The title was inspired by ecologist, Suzanne Simard; she researches connections between trees in the forest and describes the mother trees as the oldest and most connected, the ones who nurture others.

The craft of papercutting lends itself well to contemplative practice. I draw my designs first in pencil in reverse; this part is about beginning with a sketch and then entering the unknown as I work out how elements fit together. Once a design is complete and I begin cutting, I can shift to an active contemplative practice, allowing the movement of my hands and tool to hold me in the moment.

The creation of my work is meditative for me and part of how I live as a monk in the world. Sharing this work and letting it invite others into contemplative spaces and quiet reflection is the second part. With my exhibit venues closed this spring, I missed the chance for connection and service through sharing.

My family suggested I show my art in our yard in some way for neighbors walking by. Hearing this, a friend suggested the form of prayer flags. The graphic nature of the designs lent itself well to creating homemade silk screens that allowed me to reproduce the delicacy of the paper cuts in a manner that worked well for exhibit outside.  I printed the designs on canvas and sewed them together as prayer flags.

A delightful surprise has been the community response to this exhibit. Creating the flags started as something for me, a chance for a sense of completion and sharing in this time of cancellations and uncertainty.  It has offered a great connection with my community, with neighbors nearby and friends who drive by after I shared images and my process through my Instagram account. A neighbor wrote a piece for the local paper, adding images of the pieces in the several stages of the process and giving me a chance to share more of the story behind the work. Several people reached out and requested sets of flags and I created more to sell. It has been lovely to receive photos of them hanging in the homes and yards of others too. I realized that part of sharing the work is welcoming the unanticipated new forms I am invited to explore in my practice. This is true both for ways that my work serves my own contemplative practice and ways I share images to inspire others.

As my family centers closer to home, I reflect on ways the practices of mothering also inform, shape and companion my creative practice. I continue to reflect on ways nature nurtures and sustains us and offers connection and comfort in difficult times.  “Earth, Our Original Monastery” is next on my reading list and feels particularly suited to this time.

Kathryn Coneway is a mixed media visual artist, author, and educator. She focuses her professional work building community around creative practice. Kathryn is a practicing artist, exhibiting in park and nature center settings and most recently in her own front yard. She provides workshops to schools and community groups to foster connections between creative and spiritual practice. Additionally, Kathryn is the director of Shrine Mont Camps Art Camp for the Episcopal Diocese of Virginia.

Kathryn is the author and illustrator of two children’s books including, COLLETTE A Collage Adventure. Kathryn lives in Alexandria, Virginia with her husband and two sons. Learn more about Kathryn and connect with her on her website KathrynConeway.com and on Instagram @kathrynconeway

Prayer Cycle Podcast + Living Fountain ~ A Love Note from Your Online Abbess

Earth as Original Monastery: Day 4 Evening Prayer from Abbey of the Arts on Vimeo.

Click here to listen to the Audio Podcast

Day 4 Evening Prayer: Earth Monastery Prayer Cycle

God will guide you continually,

and satisfy your needs in parched places,

and make your bones strong;

and you shall be like a watered garden,

like a spring of water,

whose waters never fail.

—Isaiah 58:11

Dearest monks and artists,

There are many places on this beautiful Earth where springs bubble up from beneath the surface and are considered to be sacred sites of healing.  One such place out in the desert of New Mexico is called Ojo Caliente. Ojo means eye and caliente means hot. Like the eye of the storm, it can be considered to be the eye of healing. It is a place that has been considered sacred for hundreds of years, likely even longer. There in a dry and parched landscape emerges healing waters and people travel long distances to gather there.  They have multiple pools, each with a different mineral content and temperature, recommended to treat various health issues.  I was once traveling through New Mexico and spent the day there with women friends, soaking for hours, feeling my body release and surrender to this gift of water.  It was like being held in a warm and loving embrace, coaxing me out of my places of tension and holding back.

Have you been to one of those places by the sea where there is a hole under the rock along the shore and as a wave comes in, water spouts upward all of a sudden?  Or have you been to see a geyser and reveled in the experience of the living water surging into the air?  I often experience my creative life as a spring or fountain within.  Often it comes like the surprising gift of water in the desert or out through the hard, stony edges of my heart.  In the past, when I would go through these waves of creative energy, I would enter into them but always with a bit of hesitancy.  There was a part of myself that feared it would be over too soon or wondered if I might never be able to rise with that spring again.  This response comes from a place of scarcity, a sense that there might not be enough.  I used to wrestle with what is enough for me. Yet somehow, because I have discovered this spring bursting forth again and again, I no longer live in fear of when this time of abundance will wane.  Perhaps it comes from having lived through enough ebbing and flowing to realize often enough to know that when the creative energy dissipates it means I am being called back inward to rest and renew. I need to go drink my fill again or rest into the healing waters.  And when the surge is rising, I dance in its splendor and joy. I celebrate the fountain that exists at the heart of everything.

Across the landscape of Ireland are nearly three thousand holy wells venerated in Celtic tradition as sacred places where water surges forth.  Living here I am blessed to be able to visit some of them regularly. They continue to be places of pilgrimage where healing liturgies are often held.  Pilgrims leave their offerings, rosaries, and votives in these sacred places.

We find fonts of holy water at the entrance to our churches to bless ourselves and baptismal fonts flowing with holy water to initiate members into the Christian community and invite them, and ourselves, into a spiritual re-birth.  Jesus was baptized to initiate his own mission and he ended his earthly mission by washing the feet of his disciples the night before he was crucified.

Consider placing a bowl of water on your altar to remind yourself of blessing and being blessed. In this season of pandemic, how can you make space for the fountain within you to offer its life-giving water?

With great and growing love,

Christine

(This reflection is adapted from my book Water, Wind, Earth, & Fire. We will be exploring the four elements during Advent through creative practices of writing, nature journaling, and movement. All the content for the Advent retreat will be brand new and the book is recommended as a companion but not required. More details below.)

PS – I have a new article on the U.S. Catholic website titled Nourish your inner monk through contemplative creativity

Monk in the World Guest Post: Peg Meisen

I am delighted to share another beautiful submission to the Monk in the World guest post series from the community. Read on for Peg Meisen's reflection on noticing, appreciating, sharing and the value of silence.

My perception of what it means to be a monk in the world is really to be one who is noticing, appreciating, and sharing.  Being a monk in the world involves movement, and growth toward greater freedom. It’s growing into the reality of God’s presence with us. It is like participating in an art expression, a dance or a musical piece. There’s always a new “dance step,” to learn as we go along. Hospitality and care are our companions and teachers along the way. Being a monk in the world is multidimensional and interactive. Silence seems to be the vehicle that transports me to greater growth on this journey. Through a contemplative practice and centering myself, my senses are enhanced.  Somehow I become more merciful, more flexible, more actively involved in living and serving. 

Silence may have different definitions, or facets. What is it? What isn’t it? Is it the absence of noise or more than that? Many times, I have sought silence, saying, “Oh, if only I had a minute to be still….” Yes, life can be busy and noisy. At times, on my quests to carve out a “little piece of peace,” I have arranged to visit the Cenacle Sisters for a day or for a retreat.

One time a sister recommended that I sit by the pond and just watch for a while. She described a beautiful blue heron that spends its time there. Occasionally it shows itself and takes a slow, graceful glide over the pond. She went on to say that if I were patient, I might be lucky and catch a glimpse. I followed the good sister’s lead and sat. Funny thing, I am often depicted by others as patient. Ha! I didn’t feel too patient that day but aimed to try. It seemed like a very noisy experience at first. Though the sky was its bluest, the sound of a plane could be heard as it streaked some white smoky message overhead. Jays and crows cawed and crowed. Ducks quacked. I have to admit that I laughed at it all but was really kind of discouraged. Eventually, after I had let go of the searching, my tension and concerns started to sit back too.

That’s when this beautiful sight appeared.

The noise I had been hearing as I sat there, the ordinary, common and daily noise of life must have continued but seemed to recede or fall away. I only remember silence.  The heron had emerged, gliding with its huge, graceful wings over and across the pond. I don’t remember hearing a sound. Visually, nature had displayed her priceless gems and I was awe struck as the sun glistened on the water. It could have all happened in less than a minute, I can’t say. Time seemed to stop.

When life gets hectic, I go back to that time in memory, to rest, and to remember the importance of getting still and waiting for God.

“Be still and know that I am God.”

Sitting in front of the Blessed Sacrament has also been a healing experience, centering me and strengthening me, often without a way to describe it.  I just know that I am different from having sat in the quiet presence of the Eucharist. 

Nature is noisy for sure. Our lives are full of energy, sound, beautiful sound, and a give and take.  In reality, we can decide to make some changes to make our outside lives quieter. It’s the interior silence, like that of the 17th century Carmelite monk, Brother Lawrence who lived with a devotion to being aware of the presence of God in ordinary life, that is the jewel. Enjoying and, or, appreciating, the ordinary task at hand, opens a way for a personal, creative touch. It dignifies serving and brings joy. Moments, the activities and even objects or tools we use become sacramental. Hearts are heard.

As a person, in the world, I pray to lighten up and be hospitable in letting God work through me, to carry a sanctuary within that allows me to listen to others and serve as a monk in the world, with honesty and humility. I believe that when we embrace what is meant by this verse:  

“Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations,”(Ephesians 3:20, The New International Version)

We will be more aware of the diamonds dancing on the waters of our lives and trust more fully in the one who leads the dance.

Peg Meisen is a wife, mother, and grandmother.  She enjoys working as a teacher and spiritual director.  Peg and her husband have been longtime members of a couples spiritually group.  Learning, painting, writing, sharing with family and friends, brings her joy.  She is grateful for the Abbey community and looks forward to the newness of everyday’s adventure, the call to be a monk in the world.