Man in the Maze

My roommate got back from Santa Fe, New Mexico on Monday and she brought me two beautiful things.

The first:

A postcard of one of Georgia O'Keefe's purple petunias.

And the second was a small black stone with a labyrinth on it. (The camera's still not working, so you get an image from the web.)

The symbol is "the man in the maze" and this is the first time I've seen it, but I am no stranger to labyrinths. They are one of the central images in my life and are very important to me. I love how true they are to life, how the path turns and twists ridiculously, but alway the center is there, is constant. In this little rough patch I'm having, I wanted to burst into tears and thank my friend for thinking of me, for knowing that what I need most right now is a small stone to hold on to, to remind me of the center that is hope, that is peace, that is always there even when I am turned around. I just need to keep walking. God is there.

I am a man in the maze, but I have the prayer shawl that was crocheted for me to bind myself up in and a small stone to hold close to my heart. I want to keep these little reminders with me always. They help me feel safe in this out of control world. They remind me that there is a pattern and a center and real, tangible, love.