a novelist's dabblings

A Culture of Solitude

I can barely believe that it was just one year ago that I started this blog. That I gathered up my things and left for a castle in England. That I was about to embark on the biggest adventure of my life. And that God took me to a place where He changed my life forever. Me – forever the memory-maker and reminiscer – who loves to savor each little part of an anniversary – can’t stop myself from thinking, “A year ago today, I stepped on the plane” “This day, a year ago, I arrived in England” “Today, a year ago, I sat in a bus station for four hours and got on the bus that took me to Capernwray – where I didn’t know anyone at first, but where I ended up leaving part of my heart when I left.”

I feel like I can not even describe in words the emotions that go along with that place. Everything from the anticipation and expectation of it (a year and a half in advance) to the actual fruition of my dreams and the carrying out of it in reality has such sweet poignancy that I carry within my heart, but which falls a little flat when I try to relate it to others. Only those that went also, and who were there with me (or have ever been to Capernwray) can understand to the fullest extent, I think. I long for that time again, although I know that I can’t have it back … at the same time, I do love the place that God has put me in currently, and I know that I have a wonderful place called heaven to look forward to where I will once again experience that same joy and love and beauty that I did in England. I miss my dear family that I formed there at Bible school, but I know the reunion day will come in heaven someday, and it will be the happiest of times.

Until then, I have the memories to look back upon, and smile over, and savor with every part of my heart … and try to share them with you just a little bit. On that note, here’s a small poem I started when I was at Capernwray (credit to the writing group that I was a part of which failed a little bit! :D), and finished when I got home. I’m not much of a poet, but I gave it my best shot, and I feel like in many ways, this sums up my Capernwray experience – in my most feeble way, describing what I cannot express …

A culture of solitude – a faithful blue sky – where we still believe

In a goodness deep within – in a Holy Finger that traces the pattern of our days …

In a place where we fall down and worship in silent awe – in a love higher than us.

Wild wind, painted skies, hues of gray and shades of black – speak mystery to our hearts.

A love song sung by the rising sun – a sweet refrain twisted into the stones and pathways that rise up to meet our feet.

His glory is the echo of all I see around me – heralded by the ancients of long ago – and only resounding with those who follow in their steps.

He whispers His grace in the serene breeze,

Reassures us of His love and majesty in the rolling hills and starry sky.

So much we take for granted – it all comes to rest in this sanctuary so far from the worries and cares of this world.

Let us pause for only one minute, and allow our hearts to meet our Maker again …

In this culture of solitude, this refuge of peace.

2 thoughts on “A Culture of Solitude

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