When did you last get bit?

“Take time now to reflect.” he said. “Find a comfortable place and spend time quietly reading the passage until a word or phrase resonates with you. Then stop. Reflect and pray on it.” he continued.

The day was colder than a witch in you-know-what. Being a quart low on spiritualism, this time-out was ideal. A beautiful, warm sanctuary was perfect for the retreat titled ‘Be Still and Know I Am God’.  I found a pew with a comfy red pad where I could rest my back against the wall, stretch out my legs and cushion my bum. The leader, Brother Geoffrey, a monk and Superior of The Society of Saint John the Evangelist, said to get comfortable and I was following his directions. I‘m sure God wants us to be comfy. Why else are there chocolate, cashmere and warm places to go in the cold winter?

The passage was Psalm 139. I read it, wondering what words would grab me. My eyes fell upon “search” – that’s not it – “am acquainted with my ways” – nope, not it.  “You hem me in.” It hit me between the eyes. “What’s this about?” I wondered.

I don’t like being hemmed in, in a box, conventional ways. Following rules feels constricting. Perhaps that’s why I never had a ‘real’ job working for someone else.

Rules are made for breaking – or pushing, at the least. I love making up my own rules - and following them. I even wrote a book titled Smart Women Make Their Own Rules: the Professional Woman’s Guide to Igniting your Power. Rules are important. Without them the world would be even more chaotic. Can you imagine traffic - during rush hour - at intersections without traffic lights?

Upon reflection I got that I have to be hemmed in by rules- by my own ‘rules’ – the principles my life is lived by. Then I have focus to do the work I’m called to do. To do each task the best I can. To serve where I can. To be served when needed.

“You hem me in.” I get it. Dang! Guess rules are more important that I realized. Ugh.

Brother Geoffrey helped us process the reflections as I said “Geez” over and over again. Finally it was lunchtime, to be done silently, continuing the mode of the Retreat.

The dining hall was large, the food delicious. Silently, politely (after all, we are southern) we nodded to each other, smiled and dined silently. The sounds were cutlery hitting dishes, chairs scraping the floor, footsteps walking across the room …and chatter.

“Who is that idiot talking? Can't she follow the rules? We’re eating in silence. What about silence doesn’t she understand? Is it so hard?” I thought. Then I realized I just bit myself!

Rats! I hate it when I bite myself in the you-know-where.