Labyrinth Lessons: Thursday's Reflection

Savor. 
  

That's the word I received on a recent labyrinth walk. 

The labyrinth itself was small and almost shabby, untended, and I was disappointed when I saw it. The location with driveways and parking on either side of the slim slip of green where it was located wasn't very private. There wasn't even a bench nearby where I could sit and write in my journal after walking the labyrinth. 

But there I was, and I felt a need to walk a labyrinth. 

I had spent time thinking about a question to bring with me as I crossed the labyrinth's threshold. Questions like 
                   How am I to use my energy right now?
                   How am I to live in this season of my life?
                   What is my calling right now?
                   What needs to be liberated?
                   What is your desire for me?

As I stood at the threshold, it occurred to me that those questions seemed too big for this humble labyrinth. I envisioned walking a labyrinth like the one at Chartres; a labyrinth that would fit the scale of my yearnings, my unsettled questions; a walk that would inspire deep and lofty insights. How could this labyrinth with its woodchip path and overgrown plants reveal the perfect response to my search for clear direction and purpose? I reminded myself, however, that the woodchip path was defined by stones someone had carefully placed, and I thanked them for their effort, their devotion to the journey. I took a deep breath, and told myself to walk humbly with God. 

I walked slowly and stopped frequently, but still I reached the center of the labyrinth quickly, and I thought about how quickly the years have passed and how the coming ones will pass just as quickly, I'm sure. It was then on a wisp of breeze the word came to me, "Savor." 

Say that word aloud. Savor. Doesn't it taste good? The taste of honey, of melted chocolate, really good chocolate, or the feel of fresh sheets on the bed or the smell of a rose or lavender you brush against as you walk by or the sound of soft background music, barely heard. 

Walking out of the labyrinth I always hope a plan will be revealed, an action to materialize, but that didn't happen. The path out was just as humble. 

The word "savor" lingered on my heart.

Savor what I have.
Savor each day.
Savor the simple and humble gifts of each day.
Savor what is right in front of me.
Savor and dwell in the Presence within and around me.
Savor the walk, the steps, the journey, the path.
Savor this season--of the year, of my years. 
Savor.

An Invitation
What are you invited to savor? I would love to know.