I love waterfalls. When I was a girl, many of our family trips included a stop at a waterfall to marvel at its beauty and power. I remember visiting Shoshone Falls in southern Idaho, near where my grandparents lived - “the Niagara of the West” at 212 feet tall and 900 feet wide. There was the beautiful Multnomah Falls on the Columbia River Gorge and Rainbow Falls near Lake Chelan in the Cascades. My personal favorite, Palouse Falls, is 200 feet of abundance springing out of the desert, not far from my family’s home in southeastern Washington. It’s the last thing you expect on an arid landscape of sagebrush and tumbleweeds. But then, that’s how the Lord is, isn’t it?
Recently, while on my annual silent retreat, I decided to drive to nearby Jefferson Lake for some fresh air. It was the fifth day of my retreat, and I was still struggling to be present to the Lord and receive Him in the silence. As I drove into the park and looked for a promising place to stop, I noticed a man-made dam at one end of the lake, with water bursting over the edge. A footbridge crossed in front of it.
I continued on my way, tucking that back in my mind. As I parked the car and got out, I noticed that I was the only human being within sight. A few geese honked and a few ducks played on the parts of the lake that weren’t frozen. The sight was more desolation for my already dry spirit.
I hiked on some trails for a while and found my way back to the lakeside. I searched for signs of life and hope - the grass still green, the ducks, the fish that must live under the water. I was reminded of the guidance of St. Ignatius: in a time of spiritual desolation, I should work against it by praying and meditating more, not less. In other words, don’t give up! I prayed for the grace to love the Lord, regardless of my feelings.
I prepared to leave, but remembered the dam. I felt a sense of anticipation, but hardly dared hope that the Lord would respond to me so quickly after my resolution. As I drove to the footbridge and the dam, I had an indescribable sense that I was going to meet Him there. I almost didn’t make it, because the path was blocked with chunks of ice and snow.
I found myself on the bridge and finally looked up; I almost gasped at the beauty of it, man-made though it was. A waterfall! The flow didn’t stop. It kept coming and coming. I was moved to tears. Though silent, in terms of words, I knew this was His voice, His hand, His heart. I took off my jacket’s hood to feel the full effect of the wind, cold though it was. I might have stood there forever, had my hands not been freezing.
Did everything change? Was the rest of my retreat full of consolation? No, the Lord was still quiet. But I knew He was with me and reminding me of His unending love in every desert place in my soul. I knew He led me to the waterfall to remind me of that and give me another signpost for my journey.
May your Lenten journey, though it be arid and dry, have exactly what you need to keep going.
“Therefore, behold, I will allure her, and bring her into the wilderness, and speak tenderly to her.” - Hosea 2:14
-Sr. Mary Gemma Harris, T.O.R.
