As a young woman, I developed a love for exercise. During my undergraduate years, I went to the gym three to five days a week, depending on my schedule for each semester. I would get up early for the 6:00 or 7:00 a.m. class, depending on the weekly classes. It wasn’t about competition, but I remember feeling good.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Between my piano and cello studies, sitting for hours was part of my routine. Whenever I went a while without hitting the gym, funny enough, my legs would start “craving” movement.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
That routine of consistent exercise had to change when I became a young mother. My responsibilities had shifted, and so had my priorities.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Several years later, once my daughters were older and my responsibilities had aligned, I was able to return to the gym regularly. That sense of physical well-being I had been longing for returned. I welcomed it back, and my routine shifted once more\u2014now including regular visits to what I came to consider my second sanctuary.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
This new routine had to change again with the arrival of the pandemic. Instead, I took long walks. Although they didn’t have the same effect, it was better than doing “nothing” at all.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Whether it was genetics, exercise, or a combination of both, I had always considered myself a generally healthy person. The only surgery I had ever undergone was the C-section for my second daughter, as she had turned into the wrong position two weeks before my due date.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Aside from that my health had been, to a certain extent, predictable.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
What about you? Have you ever perceived an area of your life as predictable or stable?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
That sense of stability regarding my health was interrupted when I was admitted to the hospital for an emergency surgery in November 2021. It all took me by surprise, as it seemed to come “out of nowhere.” I was hospitalized for a week following surgery to remove a brain tumor I hadn’t even known I had.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
To say this took me by surprise is an understatement. I didn’t know where to “place” my faith. What my heart longed for most was to continue being a mother to my daughters.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Thanks to Saint Ignatius of Loyola, I have cultivated the practice of praying with the imagination. This practice, often known as Imaginative Contemplation, is an essential part of the Spiritual Exercises.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Broadly speaking, this way of praying invites us to place ourselves, within an atmosphere of prayer and using our imagination, inside a biblical scene, engaging all our senses. It is a truly profound experience that touches every aspect of one’s being.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
During my hospital stay and what felt like a long recovery period, I had the necessary time and space to devote myself to this form of prayer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The biblical passage that “called” to me was the one where Peter wanted to walk on water. I wanted to have more faith than Peter, but my prayer led me somewhere else.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
In this type of prayer, inner freedom is welcomed; we are invited to notice where our imagination takes us. The biblical scene serves as the starting point, while the unfolding experience is a matter between God and the individual.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
On one occasion, while praying with this passage, my imagination took me to an unexpected place.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I watched as Jesus approached the water, and I was there with him. As we conversed, I told him I wanted to spend time with him\u2014and only him. Then, Jesus took my hand, and together we walked on the water. We were heading toward the boat where the disciples were, yet I kept telling Jesus that I wanted to spend time with him alone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The chaos I perceived in my life at that time went beyond my health issues, and I longed for peace. I “knew” Peter would want to walk on water too, but I didn’t want to be around other people; I wanted to be only with Jesus. I could not have consciously imagined what happened next.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Instead of continuing to walk on the water, Jesus and I plunged into the depths. And all was calm, silence, and peace. We did not drown; there was no need to swim, and gravity felt much like it did on the surface.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
As I write this, my body remembers and sighs.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
There was no dialogue, no sermons, teachings, reproaches, or questions. Only silence\u2014and an attentive, loving, warm presence.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
For you, what does it mean to walk on water? And what would it mean to sink?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Most of the reflections I have heard regarding this passage offer a subtle or direct critique of Peter\u2019s faith. Yet, Jesus did not let go of him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Even though I was not in a stable place in my life\u2014to the point where I felt I was sinking\u2014Jesus was with me, in the deepest recesses of my being. And that did not mean I had \u201cless\u201d faith.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
What do you believe? Do you think Jesus is with you only on the surface? Would you believe that Jesus would not be with you in the depths?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
If the Spirit leads you, share with Jesus the carpenter the faith you perceive you have\u2014whether great or small. And perhaps you will discover that, whatever faith you possess, Jesus is holding you by the hand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Marisol<\/p>\n\n\n\n
P.S.: We can hear the account of Jesus walking on water in the readings for the 19th Sunday in Ordinary Time, Year A.<\/p>\n\n\n\n