A poem remembering a spiritual experience I had while on an overseas trip in early 2008:
On a tropical afternoon more than a decade ago
I remember feeling a warmth
rise within my chest, a fire burning. This experience
consumed me with a sense of call. I woke with a new
consciousness of being loved, and began walking with
a profound sense of direction.
But I wanted more of that warmth,
with its tender, blessed light. I sought its
return, and, sometimes felt the heat
moving deep in my heart. And following such
persistent efforts, the experience was released—
the fire had become smoke.
In the years that followed, I found new images for a vocabulary
of encounter: water tumbling over rocks, mustard
seeds, and fertile soil in which to grow. I was invited to
rolling fields of conversation. In naming my experiences,
I began to behold the embrace of the giver
who kept sending sought and unsought gifts.
Sitting on my balcony one morning, sun hidden
behind great Winter clouds, I felt fresh warmth
resting within my lungs. I paused gently in stillness,
breathing in all these memories
breathing out appreciation
rising to now write it all down.
Part of my graced history.