Our last day at Emmaus feels like every other day at Emmaus. The house is peaceful and quiet, except for the whirring of fans. Some people are in the chapel praying, others are busy with service. It's 9:30 already, so everybody is starting to glisten with today's layer of sweat, particularly Braden who is currently outside moving dirt like a champion.
There's a sadness in it though, even if it's a peaceful sadness. We have all grown very close to the brothers and sisters of the house here ; we have gotten to know their kindness and their (huge variety of) quirks. and though we have already said some of our goodbyes, the fact of leaving doesn't feel really real yet. There have been so many beautiful experiences in such a short time - in the chaos of traveling and camping and lugging backpacks around buses, in the sleepy silence of the afternoon heat here at the house, in the deep quiet of night prayer after sunset, and I think I speak for more than just myself when I say that we haven't quite processed all of it yet.
I think, though, there will be a lot of joy in meditating over this time. I'm starting to think of it as though I've received a lot of presents, and I've seen the wrapping (and it's been really really neat, interactive wrapping) but I haven't actually opened them up yet, to get to the good stuff inside. That excites me, and tempers the bitterness of leaving this astonishing land. As I have been walking with the Lord, learning to put more and more trust in Him, I have also been gradually learning the beauty of just how deep our experiences reach. The real value of things is so far below the surface, but it isn't a shame in the least, because the journey down to reach them is also a thing of beauty - another opportunity to put my hand in the Lord's and to discover with Him just how wonderful life is. Whether it's been haggling in a market in Palestine, praying at 3am in the resounding silence of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, or playing a (highly competitive) round of Carcassonne in the cool evening on the terrace here at Emmaus-Nicopolis, the Lord is present, and He is speaking. Now comes the time to be still with our hearts, and to ponder all that He has said.
We will see you soon!
Maria
There's a sadness in it though, even if it's a peaceful sadness. We have all grown very close to the brothers and sisters of the house here ; we have gotten to know their kindness and their (huge variety of) quirks. and though we have already said some of our goodbyes, the fact of leaving doesn't feel really real yet. There have been so many beautiful experiences in such a short time - in the chaos of traveling and camping and lugging backpacks around buses, in the sleepy silence of the afternoon heat here at the house, in the deep quiet of night prayer after sunset, and I think I speak for more than just myself when I say that we haven't quite processed all of it yet.
I think, though, there will be a lot of joy in meditating over this time. I'm starting to think of it as though I've received a lot of presents, and I've seen the wrapping (and it's been really really neat, interactive wrapping) but I haven't actually opened them up yet, to get to the good stuff inside. That excites me, and tempers the bitterness of leaving this astonishing land. As I have been walking with the Lord, learning to put more and more trust in Him, I have also been gradually learning the beauty of just how deep our experiences reach. The real value of things is so far below the surface, but it isn't a shame in the least, because the journey down to reach them is also a thing of beauty - another opportunity to put my hand in the Lord's and to discover with Him just how wonderful life is. Whether it's been haggling in a market in Palestine, praying at 3am in the resounding silence of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, or playing a (highly competitive) round of Carcassonne in the cool evening on the terrace here at Emmaus-Nicopolis, the Lord is present, and He is speaking. Now comes the time to be still with our hearts, and to ponder all that He has said.
We will see you soon!
Maria