Third Saturday of Advent: Something Beautiful, Something Good from Nightfall

Nightfall, Fall 2025
Pecos Benedictine Monastery

I'm pondering the gift of nightfall.

Maybe the day is or isn't over, but the evening light is gone and moment by moment, more stars become visible. 

It grows quiet except for the night noises. The hum of a fan, the sound of a glass being set on the counter. The slap of the lid on the trashcan, water running in the sink, quiet steps to retrieve books or headphones. The dog sniffing for one last treat. It takes a little while for the house to come to rest, but it does. That's true for us too.

Nightfall is the invitation to settle in and dream. 

 

Third Sunday of Advent: Something Beautiful, Something Good from Taking Photos

Afternoon Walk, Fall 2025
Pecos Benedictine Monastery

Many years ago I was on a youth retreat with about 100 teenagers. I wasn't just on the retreat, I was leading the retreat. We were walking from breakfast to morning worship and I noticed a cluster of red flowers on the side of our walking path. Later that afternoon I spotted lavender water lilies at the lake where we canoed. And checking out at the end of the weekend, there were bright pink roses outside of the camp office. Even without a camera, my mind was starting to snap photos. A strong enough urge that I'm remembering it more than 20 years later. 

I knew someone who took beautiful photos. His advice was "the best way to take a good photo is to take lots of photos." Another friend said casually, "It's all about the light." Their words have stayed with me and returned at just the right time. 

This photo above is from an afternoon walk at the monastery. Nothing exceptional stood out as I was crossing the tall grass, but the way the light shined through the leaves reminded me - "it's all about the light" - and I took out my phone for a few photos. 

You know what I would like?

I would like to learn to see the way light shines through people the way I can see light shining through leaves. I would like to be able to see the way the light falls uniquely on a person - or the way it encircles someone - the way it illumines them from within. Wouldn't that be something? Let's practice. 

 

Second Tuesday of Advent: Something Beautiful, Something Good from the Cat

 

Monastery Cat, Fall 2025
Pecos Benedictine Monastery

                  

A study of stillness.

An exercise of essence.

A rubric of rest.

A lesson of lifestyle.

A practice of pause.

A composition of calm.

An examen of ease.

A manner of mindfulness.

A reflection of repose.

A posture of presence.

                    

  

Second Monday of Advent: Something Beautiful, Something Good from Wild Apples

Wild Apple Tree, Fall 2025
Pecos Benedictine Monastery

Out for an afternoon walk. 

I'm walking a familiar path and glance up to see a slender apple tree, loaded with ripening fruit just a short distance away. 

All morning I've been listening to birdsong and the sound of the river. I've been refreshed by the cold air and the joy of stepping out for a wandering walk. And now, an apple tree. 

I imagine the deer and the other creatures who rely on wild apples - they already know where this exact tree is. The scent has led them here. 

May there always be wild apples for the deer.

May unexpected sources of nourishment be within reach for each of of us.

May we follow something beautiful, something good, more deeply into life.

 

First Thursday of Advent: Something Beautiful, Something Good from the Rose

Roses at the Benedictine Monastery, Fall 2025
Pecos, New Mexico

It was the first day of a silent retreat. I've been at the monastery before. At an altitude of almost 7,000 feet I've learned to take it easy the first day or so. 

I've stepped out on the back porch and cannot miss the bright red roses. I've never seen them in bloom before. It's exhilarating. On previous trips, I suspected that spiky plant was a rosebush. There's no denying it today. The roses are striking against the adobe building, the wide blue sky, and the golden green colors of fall. 

There's a blessing in seeing something come into bloom. And a blessing in seeing someone come into bloom. 

I'm remembering words from Georgia O'Keefe, "Still, in a way -- nobody sees a flower -- really -- it is so small -- we haven't the time -- and to see takes time, like to have a friend takes time." 

May we take the time.

May we take the time to see.

May we take the time to see what is coming into bloom. 

May we take the time to see who is coming into bloom. 

May we take the time.

A Prayer

 Light in the Window, April 2023
Pecos Benedictine Monastery, New Mexico

 

Set a strong frame 'round

the light of your love - and all

will be illumined

Hope

Dawn, April 2023
Pecos Benedictine Monastery, New Mexico

 

Before dawn, my eyes

are trained to the sky where hope

meets the horizon

The Reeds

Morning Walk, April 2023
Pecos Benedictine Monastery, New Mexico

 

A quiet morning

allows me to hear the reeds

whispering good news

"A bruised reed he will not break,

and a smoldering wick he will not snuff out.

In faithfulness he will bring forth justice;"

Isaiah 42:3 (NIV)

A Poem for Good Friday by Kathy Shaidle

Sun-washed, April 2023
Benedictine Abbey, Pecos NM

Good Friday, Georgia O'Keefe

tumbleweed mesas cactus etcetera

Georgia O'Keefe picked flowers for the greenhouse
behind her scrimshaw face.

When she walked into the middle of the crucifixion no one noticed.
Eventually bystanders got bored and went home for lunch.

Stretched canvas.

Inspired but out of red paint,
Georgia squatted patient in the
crumbs of ten million champagne glasses
and looked up at this new kind of cactus.

Waiting for time to take its communion.
Waiting for bones.

from Gas Stations of the Cross
poems by Kathy Shaidle, 1990 

* When I was first re-discovering poetry, this one by Canadian writer, Kathy Shaidle found me. Since then, it has always come to mind during Holy Week. I think the way Shaidle weaves in the spirit of Georgia O'Keefe caught me in a way, back then. And, it does still. Last week, while on retreat in Pecos, New Mexico, these two sticks were propped at the corner of our building. I walked by them several times each day and thought they were exactly the kind of thing Georgia O'Keefe would have painted. Peeking around the corner is a view of the magnificent blue sky and a distant cross in the field. The cross of Jesus seems distant by 2,000 years, but somehow closer tonight. Lord, have mercy.

** Most of the time, I am using my own words for posts, but I couldn't resist borrowing from an admired writer tonight. 

Lucky me

Mourning Cloak Butterfly, April 2023
Pecos Benedictine Monastery, Pecos NM

Lucky me to see

from the corner of my eye

the flash of your wing

Bare

Wild Rose by the River, April 2023

 

Bare branches reside

in the truth of who they are

as winter passes

The running river,

faithful witness to the wild

roses in her heart

Evergreen

Pecos Evergreen, April 2023
Pecos Monastery, New Mexico

 

Forever gazing

across meadow and mountains

never tiring

Stone on Stone

Ebenezer, November 2021
Benedictine Abbey in Pecos, New Mexico

 

Prayers stack, stone on stone

each holding up the other

in silence and strength

Silhouette of Devotion

 Our Lady, November 2021
Benedictine Abbey in Pecos, New Mexico

 

Take Him in your arms

open your heart to heaven

join the Advent song

With You

Afternoon Walk, November 2021
Benedictine Abbey in Pecos, New Mexico

 

May I cross the bridge

into wonder and beauty

with you by my side

Love

Tree Stump, November 2021
Benedictine Abbey in Pecos, New Mexico

 

May love fill every corner of my heart. 

The Light that Shines

Pecos Light, November 2021
Benedictine Abbey in Pecos, New Mexico

I've longed for this light

that shines in the darkness and

is not overcome

 * This is the skylight in my room at the Abbey in Pecos. In the daytime, light floods the room from above. At night, I can see the stars. It's one of my favorite things about the monastery.  

Promise

Cedar Tree, November 2021
Benedictine Abby in Pecos, New Mexico

 

O autumn bluebirds

your feasting tree is laden

promise to come soon

Rooted and Reaching

Sandy's Trees, November 2021
Benedictine Abbey in Pecos, New Mexico

Rooted and reaching

they spoke to her - and became

beautiful to me

* On an afternoon walk, my friend Sandy stopped to spend time with these towering and beautiful trees. Her wonder was a gift - her noticing helped me to notice too. 

 

Other Windows

Pecos at Night, November 2021
Benedictine Abby in Pecos, New Mexico

 

The dark path is lit

by light from other windows

glowing and golden