Reflections for the Journey
Falling Blindfold
by Maggie Winfrey
On April 6th in Greensboro, North Carolina, a blindfold fell from my eyes when I suddenly saw beautiful Divine Love streaming from every human being I came in contact with.
In the middle of my hurried errands that morning, this beautiful gift opened my eyes, despite my distracted to-do list. Like a slow sunrise, it came on gradually. My awareness heightened, moment by moment, as I became more and more acutely aware of everyone I encountered. Everyone was more real, more actual.
It all began with meeting the staff and early customers at the Barnes and Noble bookstore as they unlocked the doors. Each person seemed very real, even though I was rushing around. I wanted to get there early enough to buy two copies of the New York Times for keepsakes before they sold out. A very important story was inside. They had printed my daughter-in-law Ashley’s story about her decision to marry my son Troy in the Modern Love section.
Ashley wrote about why they decided to marry. They had been together for eight years. They felt their partnership was great. Then Ashley was diagnosed with ALS. Their perspective changed, and they committed to this challenge with love, with greater intensity. Their decision continues to inspire all of us.
As I dropped off their copy at the house, Troy’s physical presence catalyzed my heightened awareness. His heroic love streamed out like a palpable love force, hitting me with soft punches to my heart.
I had been watching their love flow between them for a while now. Somehow, encountering Troy that morning clarified a deep truth that I had been looking at all along. Right here, right in front of me, is the beauty of God’s love audaciously living in each of us, before my eyes. All I had to do was to let my blindfold fall.
I couldn’t stay and chat. He was busy. I was already late for the New Garden Friends Meeting on Zoom. Ten minutes later, as I sat in silent worship, what I saw with Troy expanded to the people on the screen. I saw through the shell everyone projects to hide their own challenges, beneath unbelievably heavy burdens. Everyone’s divine spark shone out from a hiding place within. I saw the divine fire who fuels our passion to wade through turmoil and uncertainty. It was love, Big Love, shining brighter than the most intense stars, a beauty that took my breath away. We all have it. It is shining within us.
I’m still processing this vision, now that I have returned to reality’s challenges. Yet I am changed. I have experienced deep in my bones the truth about all of us. Greg Boyle tells us, “We are all unshakably good.” Greg goes on to tell us about his friend Joseph who says, “Life is about removing the blindfold” so we can see how God sees. What does God see? God sees Goodness.
Greg goes on to say God heals blind people. He clarifies, “The starting point is when our Wild God looks at us and says, ‘You are precious in my eyes, and I love you.’ We then take that vision and intend to see in each other (and ourselves) our unmistakable, soulful preciousness. We look beyond behavior and see only what God sees. When this blindfold falls, we focus on what is precious in the soul of the person in front of us.” [1]
May our blindfolds fall. May we see as God sees. May we see Goodness.
[1] Gregory Boyle, Cherished Belonging: The Healing Power of Love in Divided Times, New York: Avid Reader Press, 2024, 65.
How Do We Practice Nonviolent Love
in the Face of Injustice?
We Are You People
by Maggie Winfrey
Many peacemakers—Gandhi, Howard Thurman, Thomas Merton, and others—have written about nonviolent love. But for many of us, it remains an abstract idea. What does it look like in action? How do we send a message of love in the middle of turmoil?
Our contemplative practice reminds us that we are deeply connected to one another. We are meant to see our bond and act on it. In 2019, we found one way to do just that—with nonviolent love.
An Unexpected Call for Help
One evening in January 2019, our Pax Christi group met Lucy Hall, the founder and CEO of Mary Hall Freedom House. She came to us with a problem so overwhelming it seemed impossible to fix. She had heard that our organization worked for peace, and she reached out to us in her moment of crisis.
Lucy was no stranger to struggle. A former addict herself, she found the path to sobriety, became a certified therapist, and founded Mary Hall Freedom House—a sanctuary for women and mothers battling addiction and abuse. Named in honor of her mother, her organization provides shelter, medical and mental health services, parenting classes, job training, and a lifeline to women at the end of their rope. Lucy’s vision is deeply personal. She understands the pain of those whom she serves because she has walked in their shoes. She reaches them through her boundless compassion.
But now, the very existence of Mary Hall Freedom House was at risk.
A Threat Disguised as Bureaucracy
A single complaint changed everything. A neighbor called the city to report Lucy’s clients smoking on their deck. What seemed like a minor grievance quickly escalated into something far more insidious: the city set in motion a proposal to rezone the area and force Mary Hall Freedom House out.
To Lucy, it was clear—this was an attempt to push out those whom the city deemed “undesirable.” And she was desperate.
Our Pax Christi group knew we had to respond. We didn’t know if we could change minds, but we knew we had to try. This was our chance to put nonviolent love into action.
The Power of Presence
Our friend Ev Howe had connections with the Sandy Springs mayor and city council. At a preliminary meeting, he heard the city attorney refer to Lucy and her clients dismissively as “you people.” It was a telling moment, revealing their “us vs. them” mindset.
Ev had an idea to help others see the situation differently. He flipped the phrase on its head, designing bright orange t-shirts emblazoned with the words “We Are You People.” Underneath, he printed the Mary Hall Freedom House logo.
Wearing these shirts, we decided to show up—again and again. We adjusted our schedules, canceled plans, and made one commitment: to be present. No shouting. No disruption. Just unwavering solidarity.
For months, from January to April 2019, we showed our love by filling the back rows of the courtroom at every city council meeting. As we walked through the metal detectors, the judge warned us not to speak out, or we would be removed. We never uttered a word. But our silence spoke volumes. A wall of bright orange, we sat in quiet solidarity, a visual testament to love in action.
For Lucy, facing an intimidating legal battle, our presence was a lifeline. Every time she looked up, she saw us standing with her. In the process we became a beloved community.
Hearts Were Changed
At the final hearing, the impact of our presence became clear. Women from Mary Hall Freedom House took the witness stand and shared their stories—how they had arrived broken, how Lucy had lifted them up, how her programs had saved their lives. They stood before the judge not as “undesirables,” but as transformed, thriving women.
Their words, combined with our silent witness, pierced through political red tape. The judge dismissed the case.
In that moment, something shifted. The city no longer saw these women as a problem to be removed but as valued members of the community. The words on our shirts were no longer just a slogan. They revealed the truth. We are one. We are you people.
Love, in Action
Today, Mary Hall Freedom House has grown into Mary Hall Freedom Village, serving more than 18,000 women and families. They continue to transform lives, offering hope and healing to those in need.
So how do we practice nonviolent love?
We see our sisters and brothers who are hurting. Our hearts reach out to them in love. We show up.
We stand with them.
We choose solidarity over separation. Because we belong to each other.
Because we are you people.
The Banyan Tree
by Maggie Winfrey
Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.
John 14:27
As a child growing up in the Panama Canal Zone, some of my earliest memories come from sitting at a mahogany table and benches my dad Dee made from lumber cut from a nearby jungle. Though the dining set was beautiful, our mealtimes were not peaceful. At breakfast or dinner, my parents tiffed about small things, back and forth, forth and back. Their discord unsettled my little sense of being.
To find peace, I would raise my eyes to the large facing window and get lost in the branches of the enormous Banyan tree overshadowing our yard and two neighbors’.
In her arms I discovered a different dimension that was intuitive, nonverbal, and wiser than surface business as usual, inviting me into a new world of infinite mystery. Her curving, entwining huge arms and small branches, leaf and bark, each wondrous and mysterious shape, revealed deeper truths than any argument. I was transported away from strife to serenity, from turmoil to calm. I came to see that Love revealed in Existence Itself is greater than any moment of discord.
I soon became soothed with a quiet knowing that circumstances do not define who I am. Love’s Truth supersedes and dissolves turmoil with boundless strength. No matter what we call it, God, Mystery, Beloved, nature sources like the Banyan tree reveal the Truth that directs the Cosmos. This Big Love exists everywhere.
The Banyan tree became my refuge. She listened to my heart worn with sorrow. She dried my tears and healed my spirit, affirming me as my true self. She showed me the way out of the storm to Light and Love. Her strength given then remains with me even now.
I have carried this deep knowing within me ever since. My Centering Prayer practice accesses it. It comes up all day long. It is here in the middle of the night. It is a ceaseless, ever-flowing stream of Love. We are in it. It is in us. It flows all around us, through us, among us.
I find a soul friend in Howard Thurman who talked to the old oak tree in his front yard as a young child. He later wrote
“I needed the strength of that tree, and like it, I would hold my ground…I would reach down in the quiet places of my spirit, take out my bruises and my joys, unfold them, and talk about them. I could talk aloud to the oak tree and know that it understood.” [1]
Many trees have been sources of wisdom for me through the years. Now, in my backyard in Greensboro, North Carolina, stands an elegant, elderly maple. Winter reveals her magnificence, her branches strong and straight, stretching beyond sight. Her trunk, more powerful than a champion weight-lifter, easily bears her load.
I call her Sophie Reaches Love because that’s what she embodies. She reveals the truth of our Beloved God, who is greater than any storm.
Like the Banyan tree, Sophie radiates God’s absolute peace, truer and deeper than the world’s turmoil. She stands powerful, rooted in Love. Strong winds may bow her limbs, but she remains, mighty still. We too can weather any storm with this deep knowing.
We find it when we go deep, moving beyond ordinary awareness into a genuine knowing that lives within each one of us. Centering Prayer is one path. Other ways are accessible too—forest-bathing, mindfulness, breath prayer—to name a few. Discovering God’s presence in nature shows us the way through any storm.
Do you have a favorite tree? Or other nature-source that heals, restores, and invites you to Love?
[1] Coleman Brown, Lerita, What Makes You Come Alive: A Spiritual Walk with Howard Thurman, Minneapolis, MN, 2023, 48,49.
Our Way Out of the Maze
by Maggie Winfrey
My dad, whom I call Dee, often shared stories of his childhood as a motherless boy on a farm in northern North Dakota. The winters were harsh, with fierce blizzards and blinding whiteouts. One particularly cold day, he rode his pony, as usual, the few miles to the one-room schoolhouse that served all the children from nearby farms. His pony joined the others in the barn while he studied.
By the time school let out, the wind had picked up, and heavy snow began to fall. Dee, accustomed to the snow, had a method for finding his way home. He would gauge the wind’s direction by the way it hit his face, using it as a guide for his pony. As they made their way, the snow intensified, and soon all landmarks vanished. Dee continued forward, trusting the wind on his face to lead him, like a thread through the maze.
As darkness covered them, the snow was up to the pony’s flank, but they pushed on. Soon, Dee saw a light in the distance. They made their way toward it, but when they arrived, it wasn’t home. It was the house of a German family who lived several miles away. The mother welcomed him in, shook the snow from his clothes, and wrapped him in warmth. Meanwhile, her children tended to the pony in the barn.
What had happened was simple: the wind had shifted. Where Dee had originally been headed was no longer the way home—it could have led him into peril. But the change in wind had steered him toward safety, guiding him away from danger and into shelter.
Centering Prayer offers us guidance much like the wind guided Dee that day. Like traveling through a blinding snowstorm, we don’t always know where the path leads. We can’t see around the corner, but we trust the wind’s direction—just as Dee trusted the wind on his face. We hold onto an indescribable hope, deeply rooted within, knowing it will lead us out of the maze. It’s the way through the storm to safety and shelter. And it’s how our Beloved God guides us as we trust the wind that leads us to the Light.
In John 10:3-4, Jesus says, “The gatekeeper opens the gate for him, and the sheep listen to his voice. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. When he has brought out all his own, he goes on ahead of them, and his sheep follow him because they know his voice.” We know his voice. We hear it in the silence of Centering Prayer.
Photo by Xavier Von Erlach, Unsplash