January 5, 1982: Tuesday: 8:30 p.m.
I was reluctant to begin my first exercise in prayer. I was expectant, hesitant of the outcome. A feeling much like being wheeled into an operating room, trusting the surgeon, but still leery of the results, let alone the process. However, in this case, the operation was a success.
I went into the St Regis room. I chose a cozy corner. I removed the two cushions from the chair standing there and placed them on the floor – with one propped up as a backrest. I took off my boots. I became aware of the nap of the rug beneath my fingertips. The tactile sensation, I judged, would keep me in touch with reality. With my eyes closed, I began to relax. At the same time, I sensed my surroundings: the table beside me, the Bible close at hand on the floor next to me. I increased the awareness of my body – the touch of my clothes, my slow and regular breathing. Somehow, through my fingertips touching the carpet, I was in contact with the entire room.
I felt a cool breeze on my face even though the windows were closed. It was comforting, relaxing. My skin felt warm. I heard what seemed like a cricket outside the window. “Now what would a cricket be doing here in January – even in Louisiana?” I asked myself. The clock chimed the quarter hour; I focused on the sound of my cricket. I forced him to say “Jesus, Jesus, Jesus” – I used his rhythm to set my prayer metronome.
[The cricket] stopped and I knew it was time to turn to Isaiah. I heard a fly buzz by as I opened the page I had previously marked. I began to read the passage. I saw a potter’s wheel and the clay vessel on it being turned and shaped. I focused more intently on the half-seen image. [It] was not a complete picture – more the sense of the picture of a potter’s wheel.
I thought about the idea of being formed, shaped. I thought about how discontent I am with my own physical form, my own shape. Yet I sensed pursuing that line of thought might not be fruitful for prayer. I allowed Him to guide my reflection. And it came to me that I was being “told” to pray about being re-formed, made anew, rather than being formed at a previous time and merely accepting that original form. That idea brought me comfort. I began to appreciate that I am in the process of being re-formed; that He is making a new vessel of me. The potter was re-shaping the vessel, making it better, allowing it to conform to new and better purposes.
How did I feel about the reflection of being re-formed? Good! Pure and simple. In both sets of meanings. I did feel “pure” and “simple.” I felt warm, cozy, comfortable; I felt loved. I seemed to drift away from the scene of the potter’s wheel. As the perceptions faded, I heard the clock chime the half-hour. My prayer had lasted only fifteen minutes. There seemed to be plenty of time to go on with Isaiah. I opened my eyes and reached for the Bible [and read:] … “Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name –” With a struggle, I completed the line: “– you are mine.” I closed my eyes.
Name. What’s in a Name? For openers, I was named for my father. Suffice it to say that the phrase triggered off a set of reflections. At first, I thought that my thoughts would go toward my father whom I detested for so many years. I thought I had resolved those conflicts; I did not want to meditate on them here – not when I wanted to pray to God. I wanted no temptations to go into a negative recollection.
Suddenly, I sensed (heard?) the phrase: “In nomine Patie, et filio et Spirtu Sancto!” It kept repeating inside my head! But the phrase shortened to “Nomine Patre” – “Patre”. The juxtapositions, the similarity of Patie, Patre, Pat, Padre, Pater, Father, [were] overwhelming me! What was He telling me? I seemed to sense, to know: He is my Father! No matter what I may have thought about my biological father, God was still – now, then and always – my Father! I seemed to know it with absolute clarity.
In my prayer period, I had come to the realization that He is my Father. I let myself bask in that. And as I did so, a strong sensation began to occur. I seemed to sense (to “see”) a tent, a desert tent, staked out before me. I felt a cool breeze from that desert. The carpet beneath my fingertips was warm sand. I experienced, once more, a great comfort, a peace. I knew that the tent was my Father’s tent! I lay there – feeling the warm sand and the cool breeze. The winds came up. The tent grew taller. It became more of a tabernacle than a desert tent. It grew toward the sky – taller and taller. It became a mountain. And yes, it was Cecil B. DeMille’s Mount Horeb! And yes, I did take delight in the imagery! I wanted it to go on – to keep on rolling. I was anxious to see what would happen next.
It was then that the “fly” dive bombed the table near my right ear! I actually sat upright and out loud said: “Beelzebub!” Now, as a rational person, I have been reluctant to subscribe to Evil Spirits! But I really personified that obnoxious critter as the Lord of the Flies. I honestly did!
Only it turned out not to be a fly. It was some sort of tick or beetle, about the size of my little fingernail. It sat there on the edge of the table and did not move! I sat there too! And stared at it. Brown it was, with a green spot on its back.
What to do?
I must have watched it for serval minutes. Would it fly away – and if it did, would it return to disturb my prayer once more? I could not bring myself to squash it! I really looked on it as one of God’s creatures, Beelzebub or not! What right did I have to kill it!? I continued to stare at it. I dared it to move! I commanded it not to move! I wanted to return to my prayer! Yet, I was reluctant to. I was sure that it would next land on my face. I decided to sit there – facing it and continue the passage from Isaiah! As I read about the Lord’s being with me over rivers and through fires, I was amused by wondering about His being there with beetle-ticks! Honestly!
Then I got to the phrase: “I give Egypt as your ransom.” Beetles and Egypt?! Now really – that’s too much. And ransom? I saw the glass ashtray on the table. Yes, I turned it upside-down over the beetle! I’d hold “Egypt” captive and demand a ransom of quiet prayer! I had found a way not to kill the Beetle and to continue my prayer!
With a pleased, amused feeling, I lay back on the floor and closed my eyes. And Jesus laughed! He really did! I sensed (heard) the line: “OK, you win! That’s enough for tonight.!” I really did have the sensation that Jesus was there, laughing and smiling about how I had solved the problem of not killing that bug and still being able to continue my prayer.
But I couldn’t. He had left for the time being – not to be summoned at my call, not now. I lay there; the clock chimed the hour. I got up – happy, relaxed. And amused. I started to laugh. And so help me, it seemed that Jesus was laughing with me! Two friends who had shared a great joke! I felt giddy. I wanted to run and tell people how funny, how playful Jesus is! I really did. I wanted to dance and sing.
There is a table in the back of St Regis. It was clear of the statues that had been there earlier in the day. It seemed like it had just been waxed. I sat down on that table and began to spin around – like a little kid on a playground whirl-around. Suddenly, I saw that illustration of Jesus on the wall, the one which is one of my favorite representations. I got off the table and went over to that picture and pointing my finger at it said something like. “You really are very funny; you know that don’t you!” Have you ever noticed that in that representation He is just about ready to laugh!
I wanted to rush out of that room and share my delight with others. Yet with the Silence I knew I couldn’t. But I was grinning from ear to ear, the human Cheshire cat! I decided to go into the kitchen to get a cup of coffee. Maybe, at least, someone would see my happiness, my childish exuberance – if you will. When I got there, two [other] retreatants were there. They hadn’t begun their retreat yet. And I couldn’t tell them of my joy. But I could show it! I actually mimed a dance! I got my coffee, returned to the St Regis, picked up my Bible and boots and returned to my room. I was still filled with joy. As I opened my door, I half expected to see Jesus waiting there!
It’s now 11:15 p.m. I’m still too “hyper” to go to sleep. I’m on the way to the kitchen. But on the way, I might check to see if the beetle is still there – under the ash tray. You see, a few minutes ago, a beetle flew into my bedroom! I ordered him out. He didn’t go. Forgive me, Lord, but I squashed him!