
Photo: Mary van Balen-Detail Lectern Holy Trinity Church, Sloane Square, London
Of Sunday’s two readings describing the coming of the Holy Spirit to the disciples, I have always preferred the one from John’s gospel where Jesus on his followers huddled in fear behind locked doors and says simple, “Receive the Holy Spirit.” Never one for lots of drama and fanfare, this account is quiet. The Spirit comes with a breath. No one jumps up mysteriously speaking so everyone can understand no matter the language. No instant transformation. These same disciples are huddled together when Jesus returns again (Granted, he does come through locked doors. A bit of drama.)to show his wounds to the unconvinced Thomas.
All in all, the followers of Jesus needed some time to respond to the gift of Spirit. Life had been confusing. Jesus had been crucified. Nothing turned out as they had expected. The Spirit had a lot of work to do, sinking into the hearts and souls of these wounded and confused folks. They needed time.
Maybe that’s another reason I like this description of the coming of the Holy Spirit: It resonates. Life has not turned out as I had expected either. Does it ever? I need time to heal from the deeper hurts. I need time to get up from life’s more stinging blows and, when I do, to rebuild trust in this God of the Psalms who, despite being billed as our guardian and protecter, sometimes lets things slip by, at least from my perspective.
So, I basked in the Pentecost celebration at Mass yesterday, swaying to songs with beats from Pentecostal to Caribbean. I soaked up joy and hope. This morning, as I read today’s Mass readings I stuck with the Psalmist’s prayer, “My help is in the One who made heaven and earth,” and know that, like the disciples, I will grow into deeper trust and the peace that comes on the same breath as the Spirit





Pope Francis addressed the “City and the World” today in the traditional Urbi et Orbi message as thousands gathered to here him and receive the Christmas blessing. (read it 

I followed the labyrinth path with the stylus. This time, I arrived at the center. Either luck or I am better at paying attention. Still, as I sit with the candle burning and quiet surrounding me, I struggle to just “be” with God. Distractions continue. Great lines for a blog or an article or a letter to a publisher. At least they seem great at the moment. Reluctantly, I let them go, trusting if they are that good they will return after prayer time. Schedule. Not as much there as in the past. Mostly keeping up therapy and doctor appointments. Those are easier to ignore…I know they are written in my appointment book.
Last night, after a lovely evening of dinner and prayer with our long running monthly “Sabbath Group,” I decided to spend the night there. It was my first meeting since knee surgery, and as simple as the gathering was, I was exhausted. Another member of the group spent the night as well. We enjoyed a bit of Bailey’s and conversation before heading up to bed.
Chapter 53 


I was trying to sit quietly, to be aware of the Holy Presence within and without. The beeswax candle was burning. Scripture was waiting to be savored. And corn muffins were baking in the oven.