Sunday, May 5, 2013

The Wind Rider

Our Sarah has exchanged her white aspirant veil for the black veil and brown vest of a full fledged Poor Clare postulant.  Here she is smiling beside the statue of Our Lady of Fatima that is just outside our monastic choir.

Before Sarah could join our community, she needed to pay off her college debt.  During the time of her fund raising efforts with the Laboure Society she experienced some moments of frustration and discouragement. A friend shared with her that he had been meditating on John 6:18ff, in which the disciples are sailing to Capernaum when a great wind comes up.  The water begins to get rough, but then Jesus comes to them on the sea and tells them not to be afraid.  He comes into the boat, and suddenly the apostles find that they have arrived at Capernaum much sooner than they anticipated.  Her friend said that he was struck by the fact that it was the wind and the turbulence that brought the apostles’ ship to its destination much sooner than it would have otherwise arrived.  He told her that God is Lord of the wind, and of the trials that churn up the waves of life beneath us.  God works all things for our good, and through them draws us swiftly to Himself.  It was this thought that inspired Sarah to write the following poem:

The Wind Rider
“And immediately the boat was at the land
          to which they were going.”  (Jn 6:16-21)

Gusty, churning horses, tossing

Salty manes, run in and out

Then leaping out to sea, and bearing

A wind-rider on their frothy backs.

Wind-rider youth, do you think, do you dare,

To seize the churning manes?

Wrench a stallion’s reins?

Bucking, screaming, furious herd of fire

Bearing ever onward towards desire

Flashing hooves and mighty blow

Smash wind-rider youth

Crash the pallid youth

The child bleeds.

Is there no breeze?

Mount again, wind-rider.

Water, flesh and fire

Answer to one Father

Source of all desire.

Horses gallop fastest

In the final stretch

You can make it, rider,

You can ride them yet. 

You can bear the screaming

Clasp the neck of foam

Suck the wind, wind-rider,



Brace yourself

On grace

As your stallions gallop home.

Sarah, our wind-rider youth is making it. 
You can too.

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