Sisters, beneath seasons of waiting I have discovered the richness of preparation.  The mystery of it is divine, linked to the little town of Nazareth.  Nazareth is imbued with waiting, with preparation: the God-man preparing to offer the greatest love.  I often stumble upon this mystery in my prayer and get stuck there: it resonates.  We all have a Nazareth—a waiting, a preparation.  We enter in and out of it, as Christ calls us to new adventures and new missions and new seasons of our life constantly.  And yet this movement, this calling, need not be exhausting so long as we cling to the hidden mystery of the Nazareth days.  

To spark your own meditation and contemplation of this sweet mystery, I want to share this poem I wrote in my own season of preparation.  May it usher in His peace.

I am waiting here, 

waiting for You to tell me when it is time to move.

I am praying here,

in this undefined space,

this open ended, foggy, shapeless moment.

I am in the garden

and Your blood is on the ground.

I echo: Father, Thy Will be done.

This is the preparation,

the moment before the revelation,

full of achey dreams and disconnected passion,

the one without the times and seasons—

for who am I to know?

Plant the seeds, Good Lord,

so that when the whisper comes

after the earthquake and the fire,

my heart and soul and mind are attuned

to recognize the wind that blows where it wills,

to hear You in this holy space:

the Good Shepherd, the Familiar Voice,

the One I took the time to know.

Then will be the time, then the season,

when my earthy heart unfolds inside me.

With spittle on my eyes I will wash 

in the water of Your abounding grace

and watch the fog vanish in Your Piercing Clarity.

Sprung forth from the seeds which have been germinating 

and soaking in richly prepared soil,

might I respond with new eyes and open hands

to receive Your quiet invitation—

echoing the Holy Virgin and 

the Courageous Martyrs and 

the Ones who have all known Your Ineffable Light:

“Here I am, Lord.”

In the moment of the call,

I want to be the one who responds generously:

with the whole of my life.

But for now, I must wait: my Nazareth.

(snh)

Originally published on shelbyhawks.wordpress.com.