June 9, Pentecost C (John 14:8-17, 25-27)

Recently I started seeing a spiritual director. I needed to feel something again. I love my work as the chaplain of a college—I love learning and am surrounded by students and teachers. But this context keeps me in my head a lot. I yearned for a conversation partner in faith, someone who believed but didn’t negate her brain. Forty-five minutes north of me, the Sisters of St. Benedict live and run a retreat center. I had referred people to the sisters for spiritual direction, but I had never gone myself.

The monastery is easy to get to. I turn right off the highway into a neighborhood of midwestern ranch homes. Then I turn left onto a quiet street that opens up into an expansive view: the monastery, set on the edge of a hill and overlooking acres of beautiful hardwoods just beginning to turn many colors for fall. I roll down my windows to take it all in—the crisp air, the view, the sunlight highlighting it all. I feel a sense of peace just driving into this beautiful, unex­pected nook; I haven’t even stepped through the monastery doors.

Sister Margaret meets me at the front door, dressed in a sweater, a pretty scarf, and comfortable-looking pants. After we sit down in her office, she begins our session with lectio divina and a prayer. Then we get to know each other. Sister Margaret is 75 years old, but she still gets around easily. As we speak, she refers to scripture but also quotes Gandhi and a Zen master. I like her right away. She encourages me to practice centering prayer, which she describes as a practice in which you simply “let God look at you.”