Stopping on a Snowy Evening (apologies to Robert Frost)

It snowed all through Nevada as I drove south, heading for Saint Andrew's Abbey for a few days before finally coming home from the month-long road trip. I had scheduled a meeting with my spiritual director long before leaving for Oregon at the end of December, and had to rearrange it to the end of my trip when I decided to take the time to meet a prospective congregation that was a bit out of my way before heading for home. The extra trip added a week to my time away, but it was well spent.


I was a bit nervous about a long day of driving in bad weather. Growing up in Southern California does not prepare you for snow, hail, serious rain....well, anything but sunshine. But I managed quite well, staying on the main highways, and being sure I could reach my destination before dark. I would arrive at the monastery after two days of driving past snowy peaks and stretches of desert elegantly clothed in white. Then I would have a day and a half of quiet and singing and praying with the monks before my meeting with my director. Then I would drive another few hours to Santa Barbara. My longing to unpack was at war with my longing for the quiet of the Abbey and the conversation with my director to pull a month's worth of conversations about vocation into focus. Where was God at work in all that talking, meeting new people who held the ability to place me in a congregation? How to put my hopes on hold again, and wait. How to continue my vigil-keeping without losing engagement in the world around me.



It was cold at the Abbey, 4000 feet up in the San Gabriel Mountains, and there was thick snow on the higher peaks. I was still wearing silk long-johns under my jeans when I dressed for walks in the morning, and I added all the extra blankets to the bed. It began to snow in the afternoon, covering sagebrush and joshua trees with white and speckling my hair and jacket with flakes as I walked to Vespers. New retreatants came and brought marshmallows and chocolate for making S'mores in the huge fireplace, It snowed all night and into the morning of my meeting, the silence magnified by the white which frosted every surface. I worried that I would be snow-bound and have to spend the weekend, but as it turned out, the roads were open and when I came down the mountain, the storm that would have snowed me in poured torrential rain on all the highways that took me home. I had worried that the extra time away from home would just make me tired and impatient. But the beauty of the snow, the blessing of the quiet, the welcome of the Divine Hours instead sent me home composed and collected and ready for God's next surprises.