I’m in Indianapolis ensconced in a monastery that has become home for me. For almost six years I have joined thirty other Protestant clergy women to gather for learning: about Benedict, about communal spiritual life, and most of all, to learn what it is to be aware of how it is we are each immersed in grace.
This is our last gathering. I’m choosing not to think about that much as we greet each other after a year-plus of being apart. We know each other’s stories – the parts that are shared – and catch up on children and partners and dreams and defeats and we are in a place where we are known as women touched by grace. That common denominator is our core identity.
And there is this. My soul is bubbling with gratitude for these fine women and the Holy power that brought us together. But also my soul is celebrating because a dear compatriot in the ministry and in the world is “back” after a serious heart attack. I am so grateful.
We are touched by grace. All of us. Bubbles are good.