The Sanctuary

We all have somewhere special that we like to hang out. It might be a coffee bar, a local pub, a place in the woods, or the beach. You get the picture. Recently, I was visiting a good friend in New Hampshire on a visit back east for the weekend. We had not seen each other for many years, and yet we picked up the conversation just like it was yesterday. Good friends are like that, they don’t seem to mind how long it takes to touch base again; but rather like the prodigal son, I end up being welcomed like no other person. We had a great visit.

The day was a perfect one in the mountains, just as spring was getting ready to pass the baton to summer, unlike the image above, which is the White Mountains in winter. The woods there don’t seem to mind what clothes they are wearing, or what time of the year it is, they always look interesting and inviting. Just like the friends I was visiting.

The property that my friend lives on is 62 acres on a mountainside in the White Mountains. To say this is beautiful would be an understatement, and after having a lovely lunch prepared by his good wife, we walked the property. My friend, Tom, was keen to show me the entirety of the property, which I had previously only visited during winter. We walked down the hillside and from a clearing with a large pond into the woods.

As we entered the woods, he stopped me and, breathing deeply, waited for a few moments. I knew he was going to say something important.

Even though we had spent hours and days together over the years, we never really discussed our spiritual disposition. He knew that I was doing “stuff” with the church, but that was about it. And yet, we always felt we were on a similar wavelength. Compassion, love, and care for others were always on Tom’s list, which showed in all he did. There was no forcing of faith paths.

After this short pause, Tom declared with the precision of a poet. “Mike, this is my sanctuary … This is my chapel”.

The woods and the brook below were singing the song he wanted to hear, and they were his place of refuge. A place that touched his interior from the outside. A place where he was really “one” with nature and could contemplate safely surrounded by Mother Earth. It was a very powerful sharing moment. One that I am so happy he shared with me. I also felt the power of nature and creation enveloping me with some coolness from the slight breeze arising from the stream below.

We all have these places in our lives. Somewhere where the encounter with the marvel of God’s creation snuggles us tightly. Where we are, once again, in the womb that gave us life.  

I wrote this reflection to describe that afternoon in Tom’s sanctuary. I was glad to be able to visit and see what moved his spirit. Of course, we all have our own sanctuaries, sometimes many of them.

Perhaps you can visit yours again soon.

The Sanctuary

Downhill, once more for the trip towards the stream

Who chuckles to herself, at speed now,

As the winter thaw begins;

In these sacred mountains

My feet begin to gain a spring today,

Despite their well-worn history,

As they gather me towards the longing,

The one within that drives me on.

The ground below is soft and tactile …

The result of years of nature’s carpeting

Never needing fitting or cleaning,

Just perfected by the seasons and her admirers.

I see it now, as the opening in the woods appears,

Nature’s chapel, my chapel, without disguise … she beckons

A heart always longing for her.

Final steps bring me to her center.

The path speaking directions,

The stream singing below,

The scene revealing my place in her heart.

Now I sit in the lean-to to which is my prayer mat,

A place of contemplation where hours turn to minutes,

And nights to seasons,

Her work within begins.

Here is where healing thrives,

As she, Mother Earth pours herself into me,

Like a lover without shame or guilt,

Where all that was seen can be consumed by her forces.

Leaving me rebirthed to face more days.

Days where the sights of pain and violence are replaced

By calls of love and goodness,

As she replenishes me.

For goodness and peace will remain.

As she remains in me.

This Mother Earth.

This book of creation.

Where I am but a sentence;  

Encouraged now, by the writer.

Image, poem and reflection Copyright 2025 Michael J. Cunningham OFS