Between Me and the Door

My monthly practice of a quiet day didn’t happen  the way I it usually does.  My normal routine is to travel about forty-five minutes to the home of my spiritual director.  I silence my phone before I leave home, and by the time I drive down her long driveway and reach the house tucked back in the woods, I am anticipating the peace and beauty of the day.  I get out of my car and see the blooms of purple agapanthus and pink coneflowers  near the front door. I’m greeted by her fat French bulldog. I am offered coffee and water and usually some delicious shortbread her husband has baked and left for the guests, and then I am ushered to my room for solitude and silence. 

This month, I didn’t get to go because I was self-quarantined.  I’d run a fever for a couple of days prior to the day ; and though I felt better, I was awaiting results of a Covid-19 test. (It would turn out to be negative!)  So I decided to attempt a quiet day in my own home. I went upstairs to the guest room because it is the least likely place to distract me with dust bunnies, clutter and dog hair. No one uses that room for weeks at a time so it stays (sorta) clean. 

 I did for myself what my director would do prior to my arrival  - light a candle and lay out a card with a verse of Scripture. I made myself some coffee  and longed for the shortbread I didn’t have and tried to pretend that going upstairs in my own home was a different location. 

I don’t go upstairs that often, so this move apparently struck Grizzly as odd.  If we do go upstairs, it’s usually to one of my children’s rooms. I’m not sure he’d ever actually been in the guest bedroom. He doesn’t follow me around downstairs as much as when I first got him. He’s familiar with all the entry points and so he often lies in the foyer by the front door if I’m in my study.  If I’m back in the den in the evenings with my husband, he positions himself between the sofa where we sit and the French doors leading to the backyard.  In the guest room that morning, he placed himself between the chair I was sitting in and the door. 

I sat there in the quiet telling God I was setting aside this day to be aware of his presence. I wanted to let go of productivity, leave schoolwork and housework and all the clamoring of my regular life behind and rest and receive.  For a few minutes I just sat and stared and listened to myself breathe. I didn’t read anything or write anything; I sat still in the quiet. 

Right in my line of sight was my enormous dog, the one who came to help me let my life change.  He had positioned himself between me and the door to the guest bedroom. 

Nothing is coming in without going past Grizzly. 

There embodied in black fur on my white rug was a reminder of what it means to live and move and have my being in Christ.  I wasn’t thinking so much about the externals - sickness, hardship, evil intent - though those are real fears for all of us. Rather I was thinking about my thought life, the subtle whispers that seek a front row seat in my head. The familiar voices of the past whose words hold such power over me if I let them. 

You’re not enough. 

You shouldn’t feel that way. 

You need to hurry. 

You ought to….(fill in the blank with about a million things!).

You have to pass Grizzly to get to me. 

I live with this big dog all day every day, and yet I forget one of the most important truths he embodies. I am not alone. There is One between me and the door, managing the space, willing to decide who comes in and who does not.  By the ever-present Spirit, the mind of Christ is available to me. Truth is always between me and the door.  I need to let Him do his job. 

A portion of St. Patrick’s prayer says:

Christ with me,

Christ before me,

Christ behind me,

Christ in me,

Christ beneath me,

Christ above me,

Christ on my right,

Christ on my left,

Christ when I lie down,

Christ when I sit down,

Christ when I arise,

Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me,

Christ in the mouth of everyone who speaks of me,

Christ in every eye that sees me,

Christ in every ear that hears me.

My prayer for myself, and for you, my readers, is that we will remember who is between us and the door. 

For more information about Quiet Days, please reach out to me @ info@leahslawson.com