It is dusk at Mount Carmel and shadows are falling over our Motherhouse grounds. I watch from my window as a young doe slips tentatively from the woods, turns her head from one side to another and then moves into the snowy clearing.

I wait. Within seconds another deer follows and then a third. Altogether there are six! Instant contemplation at this unexpected beauty on a winter's eve.

Spring

In our part of the world we are blessed with seasons—so symbolic of the spiritual journey into the heart of God. In the springtime of our lives we are “called.” It is usually a joyous time of falling in love with our Beloved. Sometimes it is an “experience” of God's presence, an “awakening” so to speak.

At other times it is a slow deep growing sense of being drawn, like a young plant slowly being turned toward the sun's warmth. In either case it is a new awareness, fresh and exciting as we begin a life long love affair with our God.

When we first receive this gift which God gives us we do not realize fully what it is. Its depth, beauty and richness only opens to us gradually.

Summer

It is in the summer of our lives that we begin to understand. We bear the heat of the day. We pray to be made a fit instrument in the service of our Love. We meet with success and failure. We experience our own vulnerability. We may experience life threatening illnesses, the loss of a child or a loved one.

In the heat of the day we wrestle with God. We come to see our own self-seeking, our own pettiness, our pride, our mixed motives, our involvements in relationships that are inappropriate for this stage of our emotional and spiritual growth. In short, we struggle.

During these years we can experience discouragement and self doubt. What saves us? Our fidelity to prayer no matter what. Our unswerving faith in a God who gazes lovingly on our face and looks tenderly into our eyes.

Though we may feel we are nowhere in our spiritual journey, we must surrender all our self doubts, and look steadfastly back into those eyes who probe our depths as no Other. This Other knows our heart's desire and sees the sincerity of our efforts and brings us closer to Himself in spite of ourselves.

Part of these inner sufferings may be the active dark night of the senses, but God works deeply and mysteriously in our souls. This is the real dark night of the spirit and we do not even know it is going on. Nor do we need to know.

We do need to know that we are on a journey that is going to Someone and we need to grow daily in awareness of this Someone and strive daily to purify our motivations, deepen our prayer by being faithful. It is in our prayer that the Holy Spirit teaches what else we must do.

Autumn

Too quickly the summer of our life slips into Fall. Fall is filled with paradoxes. We are filled with peace because we know we are loved by God and we know we are trying. We sense a maturity in ourselves, a ripening that manifest itself in a certain largesse of heart, a magnanimity of spirit. A compassion for others, particularly the suffering in our world. We truly begin to prefer others to ourselves.

Looking back we are surprised to hear ourselves say, “Oh, I don't do that anymore!” Or, “I don't need that anymore!” There is a letting go of pettiness. The paradox of course is that our failings seem to loom larger than ever. This no longer matters.

We continue our efforts but we are at peace in the knowledge that we are loved by the only One that matters, the only one who can bring us Home. This, of course, is the secret of the saints.

Winter

Sometimes, in the winter of our lives we might be tempted to think there is nothing more to do, no place to go. Yet this is the time of our greatest letting go, where the greatest time of growth is not only possible but probable.

Gradually we are stripped until there is nothing left. We look around us and we are filled with admiration at the grace and courage with which our companions receive grave news about their physical health.

We marvel at the acceptance of long years of painful waiting for their own demise. But there is genuine peace and real joy in the eyes of these Sisters. One knows that they have talked it all over with their Love and all is well. Then one day they slip away from us. They have gone Home and they have shown us the way.

At day's end, the fir trees cast long blue shadows across the melting snow. The deer have long gone and even the birdsong has faded away.

But the stars have begun to shine through the clouds and the lantern still burns in our convent chapel. Someone prays quietly there and peace again falls over our Mount Carmel home.

About the author: Dolores M. Kramer, BVM (Jeanne Michele) is retired at the Mount Carmel Motherhouse, Dubuque.

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© 2006 Sisters of Charity, BVM