Dear Ones of St. Columba's,

 What paths do you walk, while you pray? Several years ago I sat down with my spiritual director and made what felt like a major confession. "I don't think I know how to pray," I told her. I had just begun the process of discerning whether or not I was called to be a priest, and at that same time was coming to grips with a reality that I didn't want to face regarding my prayer life. I didn't like praying in the way I had always thought prayer had to be done: sitting still, eyes closed, carrying on some sort of internal monologue with God. I wasn't sure it worked. I didn't get anything out of it. And if that was prayer, I had to hope I wasn't doing it right. Otherwise, well, I would have bigger problems to deal with. 

"Alissa," my spiritual director said. "Tell me when you notice God in your life." Now that was a question I could answer, and I did. I described for her what it felt like to plant things in my garden, and to take long walks through the neighborhood in Poulsbo, Washington where Andrew and I were living at the time. I described the wonder I felt one day when I paused on such a walk to watch a honeybee dart in and out of the blossoms covering a blackberry bush. I described the feeling of laying on sun-warmed grass and just listening to all the sounds of the world: cars driving by, birds singing, the buzz of lawnmowers and people that can fill up a neighborhood, and knowing as I listened that God was in and through and part of all things. 

My spiritual director listened to me, and then gently suggested that I expand my definition of what it means to pray. This was the beginning of learning, for me, that prayer is not only talking to God or sitting in silence. Prayer can also be movement, walking, noticing details in the world you move through everyday, and so much more. 

This is not a new idea. Humans have been praying in all these ways for thousands of years. One of the structures our Celtic Christian tradition gives us for walking and praying is the labyrinth. We have a labyrinth in our entryway at St. C's, and it seems to be most often used by our children, who instinctively understand that it is there to be walked. And, we will have one in our memorial garden space, stained onto the concrete and framed by the stained glass windows that will catch sunlight as we worship there. This new labyrinth will be a new opportunity to pray as we walk,to follow paths of prayer with our bodies that guide our souls into new relationship with God, the earth,and each other. 

This Sunday Dan Niven, the artist who designed our entryway labyrinth and who will design our garden one as well, will be with us at 9am to teach us about labyrinths, and then will meet with those interested in contributing to the design of our new labyrinth after the 10am service. I hope you will join in this special opportunity to help us walk news paths of prayer, together.

with care and gratitude,

Alissa