Part of the blessing of being in Chicago is the opportunity to be with wonderful sisters from throughout the country. Every few weeks a different presenter joins us for a specific topic, be it charism, congregational history, Ignatian spirituality, or any number of other things. These classes are more like workshops than formal presentations; they encourage reflection and bring one's life to bear on the subject matter.
In early December, we were blessed to be led by Kathy Sherman, CSJ and Pat Bergen, CSJ through a day of reflection on Advent and new cosmology. The result was a day filled with song and sharing. As I reflected through the day on the topic of Adventing Christ- transformation in my own life and a deep experience of silence/ stillness rose within me. The result is the poem that follows. May it speak to the work of Advent in each of us- the anticipation within and the becoming that is constantly drawing us forth to a world filled with Emmanuel.
Peace and Advent blessings to you all.
They took the Light and hung it upon a tree.
In the becoming, in the becoming is everything
As I waited in the stillness
of that house it began
through the slats of the wooden walls
and rising through the floor boards
transformation oozed forth.
It was not quick
it gave moment for pause
for panic if you so desired.
You could see it coming
You could choose to stop it.
Instead I feel my hands reach
I run my fingers through it
The tacky touch of what transforms.
What binds us together.
It surrounds the building I am in
to enter as it does
Did I build this hideaway
or was it built for me?
It is here that transformation seeps in.
It is sticky like glue
It coats me and
makes me take notice
In the becoming is everything.
Christ is in who and how I am becoming
He binds me up; we run together
His being and mine.
That cold chapel in Plainsboro.
Its choir stalls and pitched ceiling.
My belly on the hard stone floor
I look up.
I can not remember what I saw
but I remember how I felt.
We muttered aloud
that we wished we could stay there
My soul seized.
Caught by the very act of being.
This One I knew, I knew knew me
and in that knowing new love.
Ever ancient, ever new
Perhaps it's in that moment
I knew I'd never be the same
That I knew that I'd never leave that place
Even though my feet traveled down
the long empty hallways
I was filled.
With something unknown
and yet known
Trusting the mystery
Knowing I was sticking to it, but never stuck.
Transformation doesn't allow for stuck.
It is motion
in the becoming.
It infiltrates, pervades
and before caution can rise
you find yourself captured-coated-changed.
You have become.
You are becoming.
And that, that is everything.