September 26, 2024           Thursday, 6:40 AM

“Large Meeting Room”

It is pitch black outside at this early hour. At the moment, I am the sole person in this space. Kris has been here. Her belongings indicate she is near and will return for the rising of the sun.

I say that I am the sole person because I in no way want to suggest that I am here alone. I definitely am not. The blessed energy in this room informs me of beings in communion with me.

Kris has made her return to her place by the window. She has opened it. There is a breeze that we have not known in these many mornings. It is hardy and it sings a song of vibrant air stirring about beyond our protected space.

I believe we will be experiencing a different weather pattern today—one more expected on an island. The last several days have been golden. We have had sun and warmth—beautiful skies and soft, gentle winds.

I awoke this morning with an awareness of our time here coming to an end. I came to experience the thin spaces only to realize that I did not need to come all this way for that. That blessing has been mine time and time again going back many years.

No, what God has brought me here to see is a place where many lands come together. The lands and people for whom I learned to pray in unity with during the isolation of Vivian’s illness are here gathered in this community. It is a gathering of bodies and spirits as this Iona Community, also known as the Wild Goose Community, is spread across the world.

Community may very well be an answer. Being here has reminded me of my days in community. There is no doubt that the community of the Sisters of Mercy still lives in me and I in them.

The darkness is lifting. I can see the sea, the closest black hills, and the misted outline of the next tallest range. The drone of the wind is signaling a change upon us. It is not likely we will see our sun today. The smell of rain is in the air. What would a trip to Scotland be without a bit of rain.

Kris has left me—not without handing me a note. I have gotten up to close the window, leaving only a small opening to feel the breeze and hear the howl of the gusty wind.

I see that the note has her address. There is a note inside as well. It is a touching, lovely. Note. Her handwriting is artistically spread across the page. I cannot do it justice, though these are her words to me.

Her address, email and phone # are on the backside.

I am touched as I feel the same about her and the time we have shared together. We are kindred spirits brought together in this sacred space.

I have shut the window. As I have done so, I realize that my squawky friends are not here this morning. Today will be a different day for me here on the island. It is likely more typical of the weather here. Looking out over the grassy fields to the sea, there are waves with white crests popping up as the sea pushes them along. The calm waters of this week are running like a broad river to where I do not know.

I am turned around here on Iona. My sense of direction is a bit turned. To where does this sea flow?

The sun comes up in the east. I know where east is and believe that I am looking southeast. If so, this body of water before me is flowing southerly.  It is a question that I will need to explore.

In fact, that I am feeling puzzled at all by this, is an open door to discovery.

I digress—when what I really want to do is reflect on my time here, on what it has meant to me, what I will take home with me. Did I find what I came to see and learn and know?

There have been surprises. Like learning that beyond the 18^th century façade, this is a very modern, ecologically friendly place. It is not at all on the inside what appears to the world on the outside. Most of the outside of this Abbey was reconstructed in 1969. Very little of the early Abbey, founded by the Benedictines still stands. There is far less of the remnants from the Sixth Century and the time of St. Columba. This Abbey is more symbolic than real. That does not in any way lessen the spiritual attraction of Iona itself. It is a special sacred place.

As if on cue, my two little friends are chattering away. They clearly agree.

I have more to say, though now I am called to breakfast and the start of my Abbey day.

9:55 AM

I have a few minutes before our last session with John Bell.

Last evening, there was an open mic night here. I read a chapter from my book. I had intended to read the first chapter. I read the section entitled, “Fog, Owls and Dragonflies.” It speaks to the thin space. It seemed appropriate. It was well received. I am very glad that I decided to read it, to read at all.

These pilgrims are a new audience for my writings. Their positive response is very encouraging to me as Janice and I move closer to publishing “We Called Him Al: When the Person You Love Has Alzheimer’s Disease.”

My gift for writing has been warmly received and appreciated. Thanks be to God.

With that little bit having been written, I will head down to The Charter Room.

10:00 PM

It is late. I am tired, though I want to commit something to paper before going to bed. It is also likely that tomorrow morning will be very busy. It is departure day. Breakfast is at 7:15 AM and prayers are at 8:00.

We were asked at tonight’s service what we are taking away and what we are leaving behind. Not in that order—

I am leaving behind longing for the past and unfulfilled dreams. I am taking with me the well wishes of so many with whom I have exchanged short sharings and genuine affection. I am taking with me a deep peace. There may be more. This is what I am aware of, for now.