evocative soul blog

Yesterday was Whit Monday, referred to as Lundi de Pentecôte in French, or Pinkstermaandag in Dutch or Flemish. All shops were closed, and most people didn’t have to work, since it was a bank holiday here in Belgium: a holy day, a time for everyone to rest, gather their families for picnics in their gardens, at the seaside, or local parks. Some folks—mainly the elderly—traversed the cobblestone roads to attend morning Mass in my village. Others preferred to do their spring cleaning, washing windows and scrubbing their cars, yet not cutting their grass or trimming hedges, as this is forbidden in Belgium on Sundays and holidays.

Yesterday afternoon, I took a stroll through our local park to get some fresh air and inspiration. Nature is a healthy option for combatting stress and fatigue; it nourishes my soul. As I wandered down the dirt path through rows of sturdy trees, I noticed how green their leaves were, and how high the grass had grown. For once, it was sunny and warm outside. We have had an unusually rainy, cold winter.

For the past few years, our commune or gemeente (‘municipality’ in English) has decided not to cut the grass during the entire month of May, to make our region more bee-friendly, allowing wildflowers to grow, so bees can pollenate. Lately, we have experienced a steep decline in bee populations, most likely due to habitat loss, pesticides, and global climate change. I’m glad that most inhabitants in my village are aware that pollination from insects, especially bees, is vital for ensuring biodiversity and sustainability in plants and crops. Thus, they abide by this informal rule, as evidenced by the calf-high blades of grass, interspersed with blossoms, in their yards.

Obstacles on my path

As I meandered through our park yesterday—taking in the vivid colors of wild dandelions, daisies, bee balm, snapdragons, crocus, lavender, foxglove, coneflowers and cosmos—I saw a few families picnicking in the sun. Then, a few yards away, I spotted a young boy in a blue shirt. He seemed barely old enough to steer his bicycle, which became evident when he zigzagged right in front of me on the narrow dirt path. When he abruptly stopped, I skirted around him and continued on my way. To my surprise, he cranked his pedals, wobbled next to me, rode a bit further, then turned his wheels to block my passage again. Surprised, I stopped, glanced at his parents, who were hoisting a volleyball net, sidestepped him, and continued down the path. This happened again and again. Each time, he looked up at me with a grin.

“So, we’re having an obstacle course, are we?” I thought to myself, smiling.

Changing course: unexpected findings

Remembering how bored I sometimes got as a kid, I played along for a while, appreciating how his eyes twinkled each time he blocked my path. At last, either he tired of the game, or else I went too far ahead, veering right at the fork, instead of left, as I usually do. A few paces later, buried in the grass beside a tree trunk, I found a plastic object. It appeared to be a charger for someone’s hearing aids, which made sense since I was near our local rusthuis (assisted-living center for senior citizens). I went inside to return it. But since it was a holiday, the reception was closed. When leaving, I noticed some brochures. One was on dementia, and others explained about living in the center, and its service flats across the park. I took a few brochures.

This discovery was timely, yet something I had wanted to avoid thinking about. Someone close to me had lost much of his memory after he suffered a heart attack exactly a year ago. His family had been putting off discussing what to do next. These brochures could help the family make some difficult yet important decisions.

Indeed, yesterday’s walk led to meaningful discoveries. When I rounded another bend, the young boy on his wobbly bicycle smiled at me through the trees. This time, his entire family laughed as I skirted his bike each time he skidded to a stop. After a while, I noticed orange cones up ahead. Someone had placed a row of these small, conical objects in the middle of the dirt path, probably to prevent the boy from riding out of the park—safety obstacles from people who cared: most likely, his loving family.

Spiritual direction: helping others navigate life’s decisions

In our capacity as spiritual directors we help our clients—our spiritual directees and companions—navigate the spiritual meaning that permeates their lives, including any unexpected obstacles that may crop up. We do our best to offer them a sacred space, and quiet, contemplative moments, to help them find discernment for their most important questions. During spiritual direction sessions, brief moments of grace—divine light and love—may illuminate their thought process: they may realize what they need to do, or perhaps not do, at any given time. Sometimes, what is needed are merely moments of silent reflection.

In our ministry, we strive to offer our clients a safe, accessible place—even through online sessions—to help them understand the most pressing matters that arise in their lives, whether spiritual, professional, or personal. This is why we usually adopt our clients’ specific terms regarding how they choose to name the Divine: God, the Holy, Buddha, etc. And, like many of my colleagues, I respect the fact that some of my clients prefer not to identify with theistic terminology or ideology at all.

Discernment and contemplation, along with a hefty dose of patience, help us decide what is right for us and our loved ones: whether to act, react or respond in accordance with what we feel deep down, what we feel in the moment…what comes across our paths. Yet, despite our best intentions and planning, we might find ourselves unexpectedly derailed—like my loved one’s heart attack and sudden loss of memory, and the burden it has placed on his family, especially his spouse, who must now bear the role of constant caregiver.

Just in the past week, two of my friends have experienced enormous loss through chronic illness and the abrupt death of a partner. It is so hard to navigate the shock, pain, and grief that arise during devastating times like these. Illness, accidents, and death are occurrences most people never want to go through, nor discuss, even though they will eventually touch most of us, or our loved ones, at some point. That’s how life works. However, despite the intense feelings of sadness and sorrow that stem from loss, life is still beautiful. That is why it is important to remember to cherish the moments and things we have, such as tall grasses and fragrant flowers in spring.

I am grateful for the inspiration I received in the park yesterday. Now, as I sit at my computer—overlooking my overgrown lawn and its wildflowers—and type, I hope my slice of life in Belgium on Whit Monday, Lundi de Pentecôte, Pinkstermaandag, resonates with you. Wishing you and your loved ones blessings for peace and good health.