11:15 a.m. - Thursday, Mar. 17, 2005
Chapter One: Compline
�Maybe I�ll just stay till Wednesday,� I thought to myself as I drove north on the I-5. The monastery was near the tiny town of Vina, California, and as I approached it I became nervous.
I almost always get scared of things that are going to be very, very good for me. I spotted the small, white cross that marked the entrance way to the abbey and another small flash of fear took my breath. �This�ll be good,� I thought.
I stepped out of the van and approached the guestmaster�s office. No one was around, and the sky was pink in the evening sun. I walked through the guest building and outside to the fountain. A couple of dozen Koy fish came running (yes, running) up to me, sticking their mouths out of the water, expecting some food.
�Hi, fellas!� I laughed. �Sorry. No food.�
I continued past the retreatants rooms over to the guest kitchen. Birds sang loudly and everywhere, and a long-haired cat came to greet me. Her white hair was matted, and her eyes were very friendly. I scratched her ears and said hello, and continued my wandering, still not having found anyone.
I was greeted yet again when a young black lab came running toward me. More ear-scratching and hello�s. I began to wonder if even the animals around here had taken religious vows.
I spotted someone walking in my general direction, so I approached him. He didn�t look like a monk, but maybe he could help me.
�Hi. Um, I�m looking for Brother John?�
�Oh, he�s not out yet, but I might be able to help you.�
We introduced ourselves, and Father Michael and I walked quietly together. I looked to my right and watched the bright sun tuck itself into the mountains, illuminating the sky with a last burst of reds and oranges. I breathed in deep, as one must when one sees a sunset like this.
Father Michael took me to the guest�s kitchen, and I sat with him and chatted as I ate my sandwich. He was a diocesan priest from Hawaii on an extended visit. I told him a little bit of my story, and he was quite intrigued.
Soon Brother John came along. He walked in the door wearing the familiar habit I had seen in so many old pictures of a favourite author. He was a very kindly older gentleman whose voice seemed to have taken a vow of gentleness. Genuinly happy to see me, he showed me around the places I had already found on my own. As I walked with him, I was fully aware of just how cool it was to be talking to a monk, especially one of the Thomas Merton variety.
Brother John showed me to my room: number two, �JOY.� The rooms were named for the fruits of the Spirit, and I hoped that the small sign hanging on the door was, well, some sort of small sign. Indeed it was Joy that I was hoping to find again.
I set my suitcase in my room, and soon heard the bells ringing for Compline, the last prayers of the day.
I entered the church,the monks not yet having come in, and in the low light was an old man whispering a prayer to Our Lady. The monks soon entered, wearing their white robes and looking like holy phantoms walking across the church floor.
The monks stood and sang their evening psalms, and I whispered along with their low voices. When their prayers were prayed and their psalms sung, we came forward to be blessed with a splash of holy water.
I walked out of the church, and began to do my �all choked up because of the beauty and grace of God� thing. I found a darkened road, laid down, and opened my heart to the night sky. Everything around me seemed to be full of God�s affection, singing and whispering of His goodness.
I spoke a prayer filled with thankfulness and longing to the God of these incredible stars, and soon retreated to the simple bed Brother John had shown me. I didn�t sleep very much, but at least I was staying in a room called Joy.
