An Old Story

Posted on February 27, 2026 by Esther Hizsa

Then Jesus was led by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil.
–Matthew 4:1 (NIV)

I know how it happened to Jesus,
human as he was,
just like me.

The tempter came as a thought
in Jesus’ head, in Jesus’ voice,
naming old beliefs
from an old story
passed on from people he trusted,
reinforced by his experience
whenever he encountered hunger, doubt or powerlessness.
Feed yourself; God isn’t coming. 
No one will believe who you are unless you do something spectacular.
Collude with the powerful, and then you’ll have power. 
Turn your enemies into friends, and then you’ll be safe.

Matthew, Mark and Luke don’t spell it out for us
but how could it have been real temptation
unless the tempter got under Jesus’ skin? 

I know how temptation works.

Three times since Lent began
I was invisible.
Three times I had to speak up
to be seen, heard and allowed a voice.
Three times I was tempted
to believe I should sink back into obscurity
or get tangled up in proving 
I wasn’t invisible. 

I didn’t sink.
I got angry
and blamed these people for being so thoughtless.

Seeing my anger and blame tipped me off,
let Spirit in.
She asked,
Why are you so angry?
Why do you blame them for being human, 
for acting unintentionally.
Then I realized
it wasn’t what they did
it’s how I took what they did
as a confirmation of an old belief.
They weren’t telling me this story;
I was telling it to myself, 
and I was tempted to keep believing it.

But I didn’t have to.

Compassion came  
for them and for me.
That’s how the angels comforted me.

You are seen, they said.
Your voice matters,
and we need to hear it. 

Maybe that’s how it happened for Jesus in the wilderness.
No theatrics.
No easy deflection by a man of steel.
No test to pass or fail.

We assume
Jesus didn’t
feel hurt or struggle, 
or need the Spirit, compassion
and time
to resist temptation.

We assume
God expects no less from us.

Perhaps that’s an old belief,
an old story
we don’t have to keep telling ourselves.

Then the devil left him, and angels came and attended him.
–Matthew 4:11 (NIV)

Credits and References:
Christ in the Wilderness by Ivan Kramskoi (1837-1887) Wikimedia. Creative Commons.
An Old Story by Esther Hizsa, 2026 
“Friendship” by  lunamom58. Used with permission.
Today’s post was influenced by this Living from the Heart podcast interview with my friend Pearl Nieuwenhuis. 
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2026.
The unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without permission from Esther Hizsa is prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used provided there is a link to the original content and credit is given as follows: © Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim 2013-2026.  http://www.estherhizsa.com

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Return Again

Posted on February 20, 2026 by Esther Hizsa

Return again, return again
Return to the land of your soul
Return again, return again
Return to the land of your soul

Return to what you are
Return to who you are
Return to where you are born and reborn again. 
–Shaina Noll, Return Again

Come home, I say  
to all the parts of me. 
I’m sorry. 
Please, forgive me. 
I love you.
Thank you.

These poor dears 
have taken care of me 
the best they could, 
when I forgot to bring them in at night, 
when I neglected to feed and water,
nuzzle or kiss them.

Their fears unbridled, 
they did what they could
to comfort and sustain me, 
as one wave of stress washed in upon another. 
They carried me through 
but not without cost 
to body and soul. 

And now,
now that life has settled down,
and Lent begins,
I hear a voice calling in the wilderness.
Come home. 
Come home to me. 
Return again 
to the land of your soul.

You sing these songs
to me 
and all my prodigal parts. 
When we return and rest,
moment by moment, 
again and again– 
we are seen,
heard, 
comforted, 
and safe. 

In returning and rest,
I am saved.
In quietness and trust
I find strength 
to want and do 
what is good.

Wild horses calling, 
and the moon wind runs through your hair. 
Your dark eyes are raging 
but your heart will call you home, 
and I’ll be there.
–Ardyth and Jennifer, Calling 

Credits and References:
The Cranes Return by Alice Popkorn. Used with permission.
Return Again by Esther Hizsa. 2026
Quoted in poem:
Ho’oponopono Mantra “I’m sorry. Please forgive me…”
John 1:23
Isaiah 30:15 (The Voice)
Image of wild horses by Zeynep Sude Emek on Pexels. Used with permission. 

© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2026.
The unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without permission from Esther Hizsa is prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used provided there is a link to the original content and credit is given as follows: © Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim 2013-2026.  http://www.estherhizsa.com

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What Was

Posted on February 14, 2026 by Esther Hizsa

After Mom passed,
sadness drifted in and out of my days 
like a hum in the distance, 
clearer whenever I looked its way. 

It didn’t come from the one
who had mothered my mother, 
nor the one who kept wishing for more. 
It came from the wee child 
who missed her mommy, 
missed her warm body,
her soft voice, 
how she gentled my wayward hair 
back into the fold. 

I don’t have these memories, 
but my child self does. 
She found more throughout my life, 
the way Mom found four-leaf clovers when no one else did.
This child found what was 
in a field of what wasn’t. 

Now our mother is gone 
from touch and sight and sound, 
gone from the smell of her bread in the oven, 
gone from the taste of her apricot jam. 

She was never enough for the one who wanted more, 
but this little one didn’t see what wasn’t, 
only what was, 

and now she closes her eyes 
and remembers. 

You only have to let the soft animal of your body 
love what it loves. 
— Mary Oliver, Wild Geese

Credits and References:
Four Leaf Clover by Mary. Used with permission. 
What Was by Esther Hizsa, 2026
Photo of Sylvia, Harry, Ron, me and our mom going to the beach.
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2026.
The unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without permission from Esther Hizsa is prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used provided there is a link to the original content and credit is given as follows: © Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim 2013-2026.  http://www.estherhizsa.com

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Morning Light

Posted on February 9, 2026 by Esther Hizsa

The moment I discovered,  
with the clarity life brings, 
that my idea
was a good idea, 
and I should’ve acted on it, 
a grey cluster of emotions emerged.
I felt its weight in my chest. 

Why did I doubt myself? 
What do I do now?

The sun went down on my regret.

In the morning light, I glimpse
another reality: 
You are here, too.  
You didn’t abandon me 
when I abandoned myself. 

As I act on this good idea 
another one comes: 
Forgive yourself. 

Who is this that appears like the dawn, fair as the moon,
bright as the sun, majestic as the stars in procession?
— Song of Songs 6:10 (NIV)

Credits and References:
Early Morning Light and Early Light by  Tony Armstrong-Sly. Used with permission.
Morning Light by Esther Hizsa, 2026
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2026.
The unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without permission from Esther Hizsa is prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used provided there is a link to the original content and credit is given as follows: © Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim 2013-2026.  http://www.estherhizsa.com

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Come In

Posted on January 31, 2026 by Esther Hizsa

It was comical, really.
The day before my mother died,
there was a clatter.
Clear as a bell, my mom, 
who hadn’t eaten or spoken for days, called out,
“Come in!”
“I just dropped something on the floor, ” I said.
“Come in!” she said again
and went back to sleep.

I return to the moment she took her final breath,
enter into the scene like an Ignatian prayer, a repetition.
I picture Jesus welcoming my 92-year-old mother home.
I picture my dad and mom as they were on the day Mom arrived in Canada–
she 19, he 24–in a hesitant and tender embrace.

We watch one joyful reunion after another.
“We” being my six-year-old mother and me.

I have loved this child for two-and-a-half years–
fed her chips and chocolate,
told her stories,
showed her pet videos on YouTube,
held her hand and kissed her.

Now, with her little hand in mine,
we see her mother, her father, everyone she ever knew
who couldn’t love her
the way she needed to be loved,
the way they wanted to 
but now,
now they are whole.
Now, they are free.
Now, she is coming home to the love
that her big heart was too afraid to hope for.

“Mom, you don’t need to say
‘It’s okay’ and ‘Never mind’ anymore.
It was never okay.”
She squeezes my hand 
and the tears that have been locked away
for a lifetime 
roll down her cheeks.

“You see,
it’s different now, ” I say. 
“We love you.
We always have 
and always will. “

She wipes her tears on her sleeve
and looks at Jesus.
He has crouched down
and waits.
“Coming in?” he says.

She nods and slowly releases my hand.
“Come in,” she calls out
to everyone in heaven and earth.
“Come in!”

Heidi Martha Frehner (Mueller) May 19, 1933-January 28, 2026, Age 6

I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am.
–John 14:3 (NIV)

Credits and References:
#36 in explore by ashley rose,. Used with permission
Come In by Esther Hizsa, 2026
Heidi Martha Frehner age 6
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2026.
The unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without permission from Esther Hizsa is prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used provided there is a link to the original content and credit is given as follows: © Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim 2013-2026.  http://www.estherhizsa.com
Posted in Aging, Childhood, compassion, Ignatian Spirituality, Praying with the Imagination, Reflections, Stories | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 3 Comments

Bringing My Mother to Jesus

Posted on January 23, 2026 by Esther Hizsa

A few days later, when Jesus again entered Capernaum, the people heard that he had come home. They gathered in such large numbers that there was no room left, not even outside the door, and he preached the word to them. Some men came, bringing to him a paralyzed man, carried by four of them. Since they could not get him to Jesus because of the crowd, they made an opening in the roof above Jesus by digging through it and then lowered the mat the man was lying on. When Jesus saw their faith, he said to the paralyzed man, “Son, your sins are forgiven.”

Now some teachers of the law were sitting there, thinking to themselves, “Why does this fellow talk like that? He’s blaspheming! Who can forgive sins but God alone?”

Immediately Jesus knew in his spirit that this was what they were thinking in their hearts, and he said to them, “Why are you thinking these things? Which is easier: to say to this paralyzed man, ‘Your sins are forgiven,’ or to say, ‘Get up, take your mat and walk’?  But I want you to know that the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins.” So he said to the man, “I tell you, get up, take your mat and go home.” He got up, took his mat and walked out in full view of them all. This amazed everyone and they praised God, saying, “We have never seen anything like this!”–Mark 2:1-12 (NIV)

When I imagined myself in this story,
I was one of the four
and friends were at the other corners.
My mother was on her deathbed,
and we were bringing her to Jesus
so he could take her home.

But like a bad dream,
a crowd blocked our way.
I could see Jesus inside teaching.
Then, he caught my eye.
I saw the urgency in his eyes,
the desire in his heart
to see my mom
one last time on this earth.

Then I got an idea.
You know how the story goes.
We lowered her through the roof.

But you don’t know
that in my story
Jesus smiled and thanked me
for my creativity,
for all the ways I bring my mom to him.
He thanked our friends.

Then Jesus held my mother’s hand
and, with a tear in his eye,
he caught her final breath
and took her to rest.

At the hospice,
I hold my mom’s hand
and play the song again,
and we picture how
it will be
when it happens.

Even from my mother’s womb
Never hidden from Your view
I was always known to You
When I fade away in death
You will catch my final breath
You will take me to my rest.
–Paul Zach, Always With Me

Credits and References:
Bible story image Distant Shores Media/Sweet Publishing, Wikimedia Creative Commons
Bringing My Mother to Jesus by Esther Hizsa, 2026
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2026.
The unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without permission from Esther Hizsa is prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used provided there is a link to the original content and credit is given as follows: © Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim 2013-2026.  http://www.estherhizsa.com

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The Human Reason

Posted on January 16, 2026 by Esther Hizsa

 A leper came to him begging him, and kneeling he said to him, “If you choose, you can make me clean.”  Moved with pity, Jesus[stretched out his hand and touched him, and said to him, “I do choose. Be made clean!”  Immediately the leprosy left him, and he was made clean. After sternly warning him he sent him away at once, saying to him, “See that you say nothing to anyone; but go, show yourself to the priest, and offer for your cleansing what Moses commanded, as a testimony to them.” But he went out and began to proclaim it freely, and to spread the word, so that Jesus could no longer go into a town openly, but stayed out in the country; and people came to him from every quarter.
–Mark 1:40-45 (NRSVCE)

I’ve thought about this story 
and many times wondered the divine reason 
Jesus warned the man with leprosy
not to tell anyone. 
Surely Jesus, being God, knew the man
would spread the word.

Then, I entered the story
and saw the human reason. 
Jesus was exhausted.
He hoped that if the man didn’t tell anyone 
until after he’d seen the priest, 
Jesus would get a break– 
a day or two of rest. 

But no. 
Now, there were ten,
twenty,
thirty– 
a whole leper colony 
gathered at his door.

I saw the disappointment in Jesus’ eyes, 
the sense of betrayal in his sigh.
After all I did for this man, 
Couldn’t he do this one thing for me? 

I watched him close the door,
seethe with anger, 
sink into despair,
and wrestle with forgiveness. 

I stood there, 
heart beating in my ears. 
Was Jesus going to turn them all away? 

Of course, you know he didn’t. 
He prayed,
poured it all out to God. 
There, in his Father’s loving arms,
Jesus received
the compassion he needed
to be moved with pity for himself,
the freedom he needed 
to forgive,
the sight he needed
to see each person as beloved
until once more, 
he was moved with pity
for the precious ones 
who’d come to him to be healed.

The sun rose 
as Jesus remained with them,
asleep on the door step.
The healed didn’t do what Jesus asked.
They didn’t go,
but watched over their Lord,
so no one disturbed his rest. 

He comes, the Lord, as one of us.
–Kate Bluett and Paul Zach, He Comes

Credits and References:
Christ Healing the Leper, from The Story of Christ, print, Georg Pencz (MET, 17.3.1280) Wikipedia Commons.
The Human Reason by Esther Hizsa, 2026
Man sleeping on the street, Leon, Nicaragua by David Surý. Used with permission.
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2026.
The unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without permission from Esther Hizsa is prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used provided there is a link to the original content and credit is given as follows: © Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim 2013-2026.  http://www.estherhizsa.com

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You Know Enough

Posted on January 9, 2026 by Esther Hizsa

We have known and believe the love that God has for us.
–1 John 4:16a (NRSVUE)

The word for this new year 
that came to you 
–of all the words, this one 
and of all people, you– 
what if it isn’t what you should be 
but what you already are? 
What if it isn’t what you should do 
but what God is already doing in you? 
What if it’s both what you seek 
and what you already have? 

You know enough 
to believe God loves you. 
All God is asking of you this year 
is to receive it.
Let Love sink in
and settle
into all the places 
your fears are hiding.

God is love, and those who abide in love abide in God, and God abides in them.
–1 John 4:16b

Credits and References:
Stones by *BlueMoon. Used with permission
You Know Enough by Esther Hizsa, 2026
#36 in explore by ashley rose,. Used with permission
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2026.
The unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without permission from Esther Hizsa is prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used provided there is a link to the original content and credit is given as follows: © Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim 2013-2026.  http://www.estherhizsa.com
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Count Yourself In

Posted on December 31, 2025 by Esther Hizsa

The gull stood on a rock in the sea.
Ferry wash struck the rock
and drenched her.

She shifted her stance
but remained,
webbed feet on cold mount,
as another wave splashed over her,
then, another,
and another.

Why does she keep standing there?

The next moment, she
swam away
as if the waves
were skipping rope, Double Dutch,
and she
was counting herself in.

That’s how You spoke to me
as I drank my tea
safe and warm inside the cottage
cold and wet inside my heart.

Count yourself in, You said.
Swim.
Fly.
Waves come
and waves go.
Feel the rhythm.
Hear the rhyme:
Count yourself in.
Count yourself in.
Count yourself in.

It is for freedom that Christ has set us free.
Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves
be burdened again by a yoke of slavery.
–Galatians 5:1

∗ ∗ ∗

A New Year’s Reflection

Take a few moments and be with the words and images in the poem.

  • As you look back over the past year, what have been cold waves in your life?
  • Imagine God with you, feeling what you feel, understanding and compassionate. How does God want to console you?
  • As you look ahead to the new year, what feels overwhelming? From what would you like to flee? Share this with God.
  • Now with God as a firm rock under your feet, turn to face your life as it is.
  • What do you need from God to “count yourself in”?
Credits and References:
Seagulls “0139362”, “0075321” and “0075172” by Alan Harper. Used with permission.
Poem “Count Yourself In” by Esther Hizsa, 2022; first posted Dec 30, 2022.
.
The unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without permission from Esther Hizsa is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used provided there is a link to the original content and credit is given as follows: © Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim 2013-2025.  http://www.estherhizsa.com
Posted in compassion, Mindfulness, Poetry, Prayer Retreat Outline, Reflections | Tagged , , , , , | 2 Comments

The Word Became Flesh

Posted on December 24, 2025 by Esther Hizsa

The Word became flesh and blood,
    and moved into the neighbourhood.
We saw the glory with our own eyes,
    the one-of-a-kind glory,
    like Father, like Son,
Generous inside and out,
    true from start to finish.
-John 1:14 (The Message)

Credits and References:
Image of candle from Rawpixel Creative Commons.
“Emmanuel” by Esther Hizsa © 2014 
“Nativity”  by violscraper. Used with permission.
© Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim, 2025.
Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without permission from Esther Hizsa is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used provided there is a link to the original content and credit is given as follows: © Esther Hizsa, An Everyday Pilgrim 2013-2025.  http://www.estherhizsa.com
 
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