by Rev. Dr. Daniel C. Wilburn
Going to Conception Abbey soon.
On a crisp Spring day like this fine morning I’d love to be walking across the Abbey’s hill toward prayer (Lauds) as the bells toll. After prayers, go eat some simple breakfast with that particular taste of institutional coffee.
Then later find a warm baking place in the sun, and like some content dog just BE, no worries. And then listen for the Voice. Windmills, flowering trees, orchard, the smell of dirt, the smells of the Abbey – frankincense and polish… my journal, a book maybe, a gritty Bible story about some despot ruler who failed to honor god – and as a result the price everyone must pay… imagine myself the prophet who ‘told them so’… then wander out in a quiet field… find a tiny obscure rivulet to watch the water drip and gurgle, singing its happy tune of praise. Feel small. Hear the Voice.
And we are redeemed, like turning in a lost muddy Coke bottle, you found in a ditch as a kid. You walk into the grocery store, and… Three cents! Yes, that’s about right, three cents. How I wish that is all I desired: to find hidden three-cent treasures. Buy my candy and walk home content.
Go to Conception Abbey. Find your Coke bottle; be redeemed. Have no where to be.