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SIX WEEKS IN THE NORTH WOODS (an article submitted by a Lutheran guest)
Not unlike a monastery, the Divine Mercy Centre provides ample time each day for solitude balanced by time for community. Most mornings I spend an hour or two by myself working in the woods splitting maple and birch firewood or clearing brush from a walking trail. This pleasant time is further accentuated when a light snow is falling and the woods become winter still and it seems as though I am the only person within miles. Usually Duke, the Centre's resident mutt, greets me at the front door and follows me into the woods; but once he senses that it is work-time and not play-time, he wanders back home for breakfast or chases the ubiquitous scent of deer through the woods. Duke is always eager to join me for long walks along the country roads and he likes to stop and get an ice-cold drink from one of the ponds or streams that we pass. He has even been known to take an Arctic bath. He is a good companion, not a mean bone in him. Late afternoons, with the sun about to set in the western sky and a waxing gibbous moon rising through the pine and spruce trees, find me on a solitary walk half-way down Anderson Road, a one-lane gravel road that weaves its way two and a half kilometres back through the forest and up and down small hillocks to where Mark, a neighbour is rebuilding his house. I love the welcoming silence of the woods at this hour of dusk when the deep green of the pines stands in sharp contrast to the white snow and the only sound you can hear is the gurgling of the clear swiftly-running water of the brook. If one turns from the road and walks but a hundred metres into the woods and intentionally pauses beside one of the tall pines that stand on a ledge above the fast-flowing stream and listens with the ears of the heart, you can vividly sense His presence. Here you are alone with God and He speaks to you with that small still voice. By five o'clock the woods are quickly growing dark and I must haste to leave this sanctuary, for Edward, the volunteer woodcutter, has warned me there are bears and wolves in these parts. Perhaps my favourite time during the course of the day is late in the evening when I slip undisturbed into the dimly-lit chapel and converse with the gentle Jesus who has brought me so many blessings this day and every day past, present and future. Sitting there in the soothing silence of the darkness, I ask myself: “Why me, Lord? Why dost Thou love me so dearly?” It is a precious time to sit there in the stillness, to collect one's thoughts from the day and to repeat once more before retiring the short repetitious prayer of Saint Faustina that we say one hundred times during Morning Prayer: “Jesus, I trust in You!” By eight o'clock, it is time to walk the three hundred metres from the main house of the Centre back to my tiny log cabin / hermitage. Each night during this short walk, I look up through the darkness and there is the magnificent Milky Way stretched across the entire sky directly above me. Somewhere up there is the super-cluster of galaxies in Virgo that I, in an earlier lifetime, would spend hours observing when I was so intent on completing the list of Messier Objects. Now, I simply pause, reflect and recall the verse, “Amazing love, how can it be, that the Creator of the universe loves me.” I enter my humble abode that is perched high on huge boulders overlooking the pond, feed the small fire in the pot-belly stove, light the kerosene lamp on the table by my easy chair, read a few pages from Saint Therese of Lisieux, say my private Compline, feed the fire again and lay down like a child to a sound night's sleep with the verse on my mind: “God, who is rich in mercy ... [has] made us alive together with Christ.” These times of solitude are offset with the four times each day the community meets for prayer and the two times each day when we sit together at table in the old-fashioned dining room and partake, with a certain degree of amazement, all the delicious and bountiful food prepared and served to us by our gracious hosts, Willy and Theresa. The number of guests can usually be counted on one or two hands and they seem to fall into two distinct groups. There are two or three people, such as myself, who are here for personal spiritual retreat for whatever their reasons might be. In my case, it is simply to spend more days drawing nearer to God. The other small group appears to be people who have their own set of unique problems and are here because of the tender mercies of Willy and Theresa who have literally taken them under their wings. A toothache plagued me the first three weeks of my sojourn, but that problem paled in significance to some of the troubles others around me experienced. Isn't that usually the case? We have but to open our eyes and look around us to realize that “there, but for the grace of God, go you or I.” Despite our differences, we are all bound by gold chains about the feet of God, and these bonds cause us to interact in many fruitful ways. One woman, who has more problems than a toothache, shared with me this passage from the book, The Purpose Driven Life: No, that trauma you faced was not easy. And God wept that it hurt you so; But it was allowed to shape your heart So that in His likeness you'd grow. You are who you are for a reason, You've been formed by the Master's rod. You are who you are, beloved, Because there is a God. In order for this woman to share that passage with me, God must be at work in her life, and her act of sharing the verse served as a blessing for both of us. New Year's Eve, at the end of night prayer, Willy stood before us and asked for our forgiveness if he had in any way offended any of the gathered community. I was so touched by his gesture that the very next day, I composed notes that I then posted to all five of my daughters asking for their forgiveness for any of my harsh words or unkind deeds that might have offended them in the past. Forgiveness can be catching and, for a Christian, there can never be too much of this virtue!
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