At the end of September, I went to the Abbey of Gethsemane near Bardstown, KY with my coworkers. This staff retreat had been planned for months. We started with a quick devotional, and then split up with plans to meet for lunch.
Several of us headed toward the statues. This walk took us through the forest which included uneven ground, steep steps, and a wooden rope bridge. Every once in awhile there was another sign about the statues, reassuring me that I was on the right path. Even though I was following someone who knew the way, I still wondered if we were going in the right direction. There were small garden statuary (think gnomes, angels, and saints) along the way and I wondered is this really all there is to “the statues?” I hadn’t done any research, so I didn’t know what to expect.
The path led us outside the trees into a clearing where a stark white statue of a lady loomed large in contrast to her surroundings. Etched at her base was “Regina Gethsemani.” Her angles were harsh, the style seemed modern. Someone had draped a rosary on her praying hands. Beside her was a small sign that said, “pray pray pray. ” In front of her was a rock for sitting and the tree beside her featured a swing.
I kept walking. The path turned back into the trees and there was a dark life size stone statue of three people lying down, draped on each other. They appeared to be sleeping. As I was trying to figure out what it was, I looked to another statue nearby. Then it became clear. These were the disciples sleeping in the Garden of Gethsemane while Jesus prayed.
And when Jesus came to the place [called Gethsemane], he said to them, “Pray that you may not enter into temptation.” And he withdrew from them about a stone’s throw, and knelt down and prayed, saying, “Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me. Nevertheless, not my will, but yours, be done.”
And there appeared to him an angel from heaven, strengthening him. And being in agony he prayed more earnestly; and his sweat became like great drops of blood falling down to the ground. And when he rose from prayer, he came to the disciples and found them sleeping for sorrow, and he said to them, “Why are you sleeping? Rise and pray that you may not enter into temptation.” Luke 22:40-46
After the walk in the forest, I went into the chapel a little early for the scheduled prayer. Long before the entrance to the building, there was a sign about being silent past a certain point. When I got inside, I grabbed one of the booklets, found a seat, and read the psalms.
A monk, dressed in a robe with rope belt around his waist, walked slowly to his seat; he was hunched over and with each step, his cane touched the stone floor loudly. His cane was the only noise that I heard in this stone sanctuary. Other monks came in much more quietly. The chairs for the outsiders and visitors like me were slowly filling too. As I waited, the silence grew and hugged me like a cold blanket.
The vigil was only 15 minutes long. These Trappist monks, who have dedicated their lives to prayer, work, and silence gathered in this stark sanctuary seven times daily, the earliest being 3:15 am. When the 15 minutes were up, they filed out in an orderly fashion, disappearing out the door where they had entered only minutes before, the thud of the elderly monk’s cane breaking the silence again. They were off to eat lunch, and so was I.
After our picnic, my coworkers headed toward their cars. I had opted not to carpool in case I wanted to stay at this retreat longer into the afternoon. I’m glad I drove alone because I wasn’t ready to leave. There was one more spot I wanted to go on this warm September day.
I looked past the parking lot, past the road to the cross on the hill. It seemed so far away. The path seemed steep. Could I walk there or would it be too difficult? Someone who had been there himself told me it’s actually not that far.
at the foot of the cross
It’s a lyric to a song. At the time, I couldn’t remember what song or any of the other words, but this phrase had been running through my head for weeks. It was accompanied by a line from another song: Jesus will meet you there. I had changed one word and said “Jesus will meet me there.”
September had been hard. Really hard. I wanted to go sit at the foot of the cross to pray.
I started walking toward that cross. As the ground started to incline, my breathing quickened slightly, but the way was not as steep as it had looked from across the road. Before I knew it, I had reached the foot of the cross. I thought it was distant, but it turned out the cross was closer than that it had appeared.
As I sat, “Jesus will meet me there” ran through my thoughts again.
I stayed in this spot for a couple hours. The sky was the most gorgeous blue with fluffy clouds. I was particularly enchanted by the yellow and golden butterflies chasing each other nearby.
Here I sat at the foot of the cross where grace and suffering meet. (I looked up the song, and that’s the full line.) I came to this place to sit in silence. To sit in nature. To ask the questions that don’t have answers. To pray. To meet Jesus.
The definition of Gethsemane is a place of great mental or spiritual suffering. I had been experiencing my own Gethsemane, and today I found myself at a literal Abbey of Gethsemane. The things that made September hard were–
- suicide awareness month and everyday seeing another article about preventing suicide
- wondering if I could have somehow prevented Alex’s death
- Charlie Kirk’s murder
- Voddie Baucham dying too
- my son being unreachable and all the unknowns about him
- a third hospitalization for my dad this year
- another family member’s hospitalization after a car accident that miraculously didn’t take her life
- the anniversary of my mom’s death
- the upcoming pregnancy loss awareness month that was hitting me extra hard this year
- November and Thanksgiving on the horizon and therefore, the 2nd anniversary of Alex’s death
- the progression of my husband’s cancer
In the midst of grief and heartache, I’ve been choosing joy this year. I brought with me a rock with the word “joy” painted on it and I decided to leave it at the cross. The backside of the cross was filled with trinkets and flowers that others had left there.
September was a lot for me to carry. I’ve been praying more and reading several devotionals–some that I chose for myself and others were given to me by friends. One of the books I’m reading is Your Soul To Keep, a prayer book for praising God as you pray for your adult kids, by Kristy Dusenbery. I love the introductory section–it just confirms everything I was already experiencing through prayer.
The habit of prayer has become important because it connects us intimately with the God of the universe and we find peace in his presence every time. Prayer invites the Holy Spirit to unleash perspective; perspective that reminds us that we can survive whatever life throws at us.
Perspective. Taking one day at a time. Somehow surviving September. I know I didn’t need to come to a special place to pray, but it was nice to be able to do so. And my takeaway for the day is the cross is closer than it appears.
grieving with guinever 