Reflection 33: Dancing Grass and a Gentle God
In this quiet reflection, Kierston shares a memory from retreat where the wind, the tall grass, and the stillness of nature became the place she encountered Christ most deeply. In a world that never stops moving, she invites you to slow down long enough to notice the gentle God who has been present all along.
KIERSTONJESUSHOLY MOMENTSTHOUGHTSPRAYERSSELF REFLECTION
Captivating Catholics- KW
3/16/20263 min read
I was in the car with Forrest on the way home after dropping the kids off at Nona and Cap’s house, and a memory came back to me so clearly I could almost feel it again.
Years ago, I went on a retreat called Together Encountering Christ — TEC. It truly reignited my fire for the Lord. I ended up serving on multiple teams afterward because I loved it so much. I loved the people, the mission, the movement of it all.
But what struck me on that car ride wasn’t the serving or the schedule or the structure.
It was one quiet moment.
The retreat is held at a place called Eagle’s Wings. It’s a specifically Catholic retreat center with Stations of the Cross, a chapel, statues, walking paths — all of it tucked into beautiful land. And if you know me, you know I love nature. I love how honest it feels. Untouched. Intentional.
One afternoon during TEC, we were given time to reflect. I won’t share details of the retreat itself — part of the experience is not over explaining it — but we had space to just be with what we had heard.
I wandered behind the main meeting area and sat near a statue of Mary. She stood in a small stone cove, rosaries draped around her hands. It wasn’t fancy. Just stone, dirt, trees, and tall summer grass stretching out beyond her.
Now, I am not usually drawn to repetitive prayer. I respect it deeply, but I connect with the Lord most in silence. I sit. I think. I let my heart wander — not aimlessly, but prayerfully. I ask questions. I reflect. I listen.
And that day, I remember asking myself, “How do I encounter Christ?”
It’s in the name of the retreat. Together Encountering Christ. But what does that actually mean?
As I sat there, the wind picked up.
I have always felt closest to the Holy Spirit in the wind. There is something about it that feels alive to me. And as it wrapped around me that afternoon, it felt almost like an embrace — like a Father pulling His daughter close.
I looked out at the tall golden grass, and it moved in waves. Rolling and bending like an ocean. It almost looked playful, like it was dancing. And in that moment, I felt Him. Not in a loud, dramatic way. Not in flashing lights or booming voices.
But in the quiet.
In the movement of what He created.
In the breeze across my face.
I felt small in the best way. Held. Known. Invited.
The world we live in is so loud. So fast. Go, go, go. Put something on. Fill the silence. Distract yourself. I am not even someone who loves silence naturally — I tend to fill it with talking.
But that day reminded me that silence is where I hear Him best.
If you are ever feeling disconnected from the Lord, I gently encourage you to go sit in nature. And I do not mean a manicured park in the middle of a neighborhood. I mean somewhere with trees. A walking trail. A bench near tall grass. A place where you can hear crickets and birds and the crunch of rocks under your feet.
Sit.
Let the wind touch your face. Listen to the birds. Watch the trees sway. Take in what was created without any help from human hands.
This world declares His glory without saying a word.
Sometimes encountering Christ is not about saying more.
Sometimes it is about finally being still enough to notice He has been there all along.
