It’s going to be a great day, I told myself yesterday. Because I was asked to lead this month’s stillness group meeting at my church, I figured I’d take the day off work so I wouldn’t have to rush home. Besides, whenever I head to the coast, I always like to include other episodes and errands.
So I began to plan my wonderful day off. I planned to renew my annual pass at the state park and take a walk along my favorite trail. I would then go to this bakery I’d never visited to buy a loaf of bread that people were raving about. Then I’d come home and do yoga, followed by writing a query letter to a magazine about my upcoming cycling trip.
I got to the church early so I could set up. I opened my Kindle to my favorite Rilke passage from the Book of Hours. I set up the computer so that people could join on Zoom. Because I didn’t have the password, I asked for a password reset. If you’ve ever worked with Zoom, you know that you often don’t get a password reset link until many hours later. I figured I’d wait for the woman to arrive at work so I could get the password and run the meeting effectively.
She never showed. In fact, no one showed up at the church meeting. One person tried to join on Zoom, but I told her I couldn’t access the account. I waited a few more minutes, then packed everything up.
I felt somewhat deflated for a few moments, but then I realized that would be taking it personally. I shrugged it off and then headed to the state park. At least I’ll get a great hike in, I thought. I walked to the cliff, took a short video of the lovely Atlantic, then started down the trail.
I hadn’t expected the wind to be so fierce. I thought I had dressed appropriately, but the wind kept biting my legs and the back of my neck. It wasn’t peaceful. It was uncomfortable. So I turned around and headed back to my car.
There will be another day, I shrugged. At least I’ll get to try that bread everyone was raving about. I headed through downtown Lewes and savored how lovely the town is. A true Hallmark town with little shops and family-owned restaurants.
Although I didn’t remember the name of the bakery, I knew it was near the bike trail. I kept looking, looking, but wound up back on the main road. Oh well, may as well go to Old World Breads. Their breads are fantastic.
As I turned onto the main drag, I passed the other Catholic Church in the area. I knew it offered Eucharistic Adoration every day. I pulled into the parking lot and headed to the chapel.
Sitting in the quiet chapel for about 30 minutes was so grounding. I felt my legs and arms heavy yet held. At one point, I couldn’t even move my hands. I just stared at them as if they were apart from my body. God was here. God is here. It’s simply a matter of dropping my expectations of what things should be and allowing things to happen the way they’re supposed to.
After leaving the chapel and getting loaves of sourdough and multigrain bread from Old World Bakery, I found myself at Dogfish Head Brewery in Milton. I just wanted to be around people after spending the morning alone. I chatted with the bartender for a while then sat by the window.
I overheard the ladies talking about the church and priests. They were expressing their discontent. I wound up talking with them for about 45 minutes. One of them went to my church, and the other lived in upstate New York.
They both agreed with me—that there is a need for more spirit in religion. Rather than recite prayers by rote, people are yearning to experience God. They want a conversation with God, not a prescribed declaration or speech. They want a relationship, and that relationship sometimes means having difficult conversations about why you’re enduring suffering. Yes, we also brought up the horrible book I’m reading with my church for Lent.
More and more people are leaving the Catholic Church, and the vocal few who are left don’t inspire me. Yes, there are still some lovely voices—many I know personally. But I know that so many, like the woman from my church, yearn for a deeper, spiritual connection with God.
The groups and voices that recognize this yearning are being drowned out by the fearful and dogmatic groups that want religious elitism. They want their church to be an exclusive club, turning people away rather than inviting more in.
Meanwhile, those who have left the Catholic Church are being fed by other faith traditions and doing just fine. Some don’t attend church at all yet choose to live God-centered lives through their words and actions.
It’s no accident that I encountered what I did yesterday. The day I had planned was vastly different from the one that occurred.
We might have a plan for each day to at least get us started, but we can’t get too upset when something doesn’t happen in the way we wanted or intended. Instead, we ask, What new options exist at this moment?
Had I found the bakery I wanted, I wouldn’t have passed the church and participated in Eucharistic Adoration. That would take me to a different road back home that led me to Dogfish Head, which led me to this much-needed conversation with these two fellow Catholics.
Yesterday was perfectly planned, but those plans didn’t come from me. When we decide to change our routine one day, whether it’s going a new way to work or stopping by a different store, we welcome opportunities for new experiences. We open our eyes, refrain from demanding things to occur in the way we want, and let God guide our path.
This is the true path of surrender. It takes some work on our part—doing something different, taking a small risk. Once we embark in a direction, we must shrug off any roadblocks or unfulfilled plans.
It’s not about following the crowd. It’s not about looking for new trends or fearing missing out. It’s about following the breadcrumbs God puts along your path. You might not know where it leads, but you just follow the path crumb by crumb.
I think I’ll get a piece of sourdough now.