by Rev. Danielle Rogers
When I was a child I looked at the world with a wild curiosity, constantly asking questions and marveling at the change of seasons. I spent hours lying on blades of grass and picking up ladybugs, carefully counting the number of black dots before they flew away.
I blew on dandelions and ran through cold water sprinklers. I spent hours lost in a favorite book, devouring each word and imagining myself a kindred spirit with characters from the book Anne of Green Gables. I kept a diary well into my young adult life. I took time to write short stories, prayers, song lyrics, and poetry.
In every situation I was able to find space for my feelings, my overly ambitious goals, and my overabundance of questions. I had a question for everything? Why was the sky blue? Why do we have to sleep at all? Why do we live in the richest nation in the world, yet have such poverty in our country? As I grew into womanhood, the questions kept coming and the answers became more complicated.
When I entered my third decade of life I stopped writing in my journal. The myriad of books that gave me so much life were read less and less, I stopped marveling at the beauty of nature around me, instead finding fault in weather that was too cold, or too hot. I began doubting my abilities, my talents, and the questions I had became more simplistic, the answers more pessimistic.
It didn't happen all at once, and for awhile I forgot I had lost her. The girl within who chased after Ice Cream trucks during summer break, and spent hours on roller skates. The youth who talked on the phone with friends for hours, and created t-shirts to raise awareness about environmental pollution. The young woman who traveled hundreds of mile away to attend a college she couldn't afford to visit beforehand with nothing but a suitcase and a hundred dollars. The faithful girl who knew “God would provide a way out of no way,” with deep seated cemented faith. That girl, was she still with me, had I lost her? During the last year I have found that girl reawakening.
In a few days we’ll celebrate Pentecost: a time for us to celebrate the holy spirit entering into our lives as a flame that does not burn. I often imagine the Apostles marveling at the sight, perhaps scared, amazed, or looking up in wonder. What did the flame look like? Was it still like a tapered candlestick, or wild and billowy? What did it feel like? Did it stir up emotions of love or safety? Did it remind the Apostles of home, or being in their Mother's womb?
When I sit with these questions it pulls me closer to the text, and I recommit myself to follow in the teachings of Jesus Christ. I allow the joy of the feeling to spread into my thoughts and actions and how I see the world.
In essence, I found that girl again. She was with me all along, waiting for a moment to show her face and remind me of life's bigger picture. During this season I have found the gift of mindfulness. This is a gift we can all share when we take the time to revisit our past selves, when we encourage our imagination, and lie on grass and dandelions. When we do this, our very breath is a holy act and we can live our lives with a Holy Spirit of love and guidance. I pray this seasons brings a reawakening in your faith journey, and in your life. May you find the Girl or Boy within and dare to dream, and ponder, and ask questions. Dare to live life with wonderment and faith.
— Rev. Danielle Rogers serves as Pilgrim’s Christian Education Director