My Intentional Camino: Driving Out the Enemy

Joan of Arc, New York City, Anna Hyatt Huntington

A mysterious visitor came to see me in my little camper, my poustinia, my desert place by the sea.  He crept in so quietly that I didn't even realized that he was there.

Who was it?

Well, I think it was the devil himself.  Yes, I am  quite sure.

Did I see a tail and horns?

No, not at all!  In fact, had he been brandishing them, he would have been much easier to see!

Did he scare me?

Not at all!  In fact, I was holding onto him and feeling justified in wanting him to stay!

What do I mean?

Well, since I have been on my retreat at the beach, I have been using it as a time to put aside all of my life's distractions and spend time with God, thinking about my life so far and where to go from here.  

Along with taking long walks on the beach, I have cried. 

And as I thought about my injuries and hurts and disappointments, I unknowingly squeezed my mysterious companion tighter and tighter, knowing that he would see things from my side. 

And as I held onto him, I found my heart getting smaller and my gaze falling lower until I was only looking at myself and my pain. 

And he linked his arm in mine as I cried out to God, saying "It isn't fair! It hurts! I'm almost dead!"

Want to know what happened next?

Well, last night after sitting and stewing until after midnight, I closed my laptop and went to bed.

And so?

Well, when I woke up this morning, I suddenly thought, "Who needs a life of being right?   Who needs a life of keeping others at arm's distance so that I won't be hurt again?  Wouldn't it be better to kiss the devil goodbye, and let it all go?"

And so I did.

And suddenly the devil fled from my poustinia, as quietly as he had come, leaving not so much as a hoof print behind.