The slow arrival of the soul on vacation

My body arrives on vacation long before my soul does.

This week, my wife and I are vacationing at Hilton Head Island. Like most vacations, our first day was filled with unpacking, grocery shopping, reconnecting with family, and settling into a different rhythm. We went to Mass, yet I found myself distracted rather than prayerful.

The next morning, I headed to the beach for my usual walk and prayer. I had missed the sunrise; the heat was already building, and the shoreline was filling with Fourth of July vacationers. It was beautiful, but I couldn’t find the solitude I was looking for. There were simply too many exterior and interior distractions.

So we drove to nearby Pinckney Island Wildlife Refuge.

Within minutes, everything changed.

The trail wound through marshes and ponds until we came upon a rookery unlike anything I had ever seen. Dozens of snowy egrets, great egrets, ibis, and herons filled the air with wings and calls. Just off the trail, my wife noticed an alligator lying perfectly still beneath the reeds. Beauty and danger existed together, yet nothing felt out of place. Everything belonged.

Standing there, I thought of St. Ignatius, who encouraged us to find God in all things. In the Spiritual Exercises, he invites us to “consider how God dwells in creatures: in the elements, giving them being; in the plants, giving them life; in the animals, giving them sensation; in human beings, giving them understanding” (235).

Looking around that refuge, those words came alive. God wasn’t simply the Creator of this place. He was present within it, sustaining every bird in flight, every marsh grass swaying in the breeze, even the silent alligator hidden in the reeds. The refuge didn’t change me. It simply helped me slow down enough to notice.

The next morning, I returned to the beach. This time, the swimmers, joggers, fishermen, families, and children searching for buried treasure were no longer distractions. They became part of my prayer. Each, in his or her own way, was giving glory to God simply by delighting in the gifts he had given. I found myself thinking of the Principle and Foundation of St. Ignatius: “The human person is created to praise, reverence, and serve God our Lord, and by doing so, to save his soul” (Spiritual Exercises, 23).

At last, my soul had caught up with my body.

Most of us don’t have a wildlife refuge outside our door. But all of us are surrounded by traces of God’s presence if we are willing to slow down and pay attention.

Has your soul caught up with your body this week?  Or perhaps a better question is this: Where might God be waiting for you – not somewhere else, but right where you are?