I think I probably have the best cell in the monastery. I love my cell. New Melleray is a huge monastery — "T" all the way up on the top floor, over looking Quarry Field. It is a corner room with a large window facing East which provides me a view of the sunrise every morning and two large windows facing south. Situated where we are in northern Iowa, the arc of the sun is rather low and so, through my windows to the south, I can actually watch the sun set. Yup — I can watch the sun rise and set each day and never leave my cell. Sitting in my cell, I have the uncanny sense that I can see everything that is. In front of my window, seated on a prayer stool, I enjoy a view that stretches two or three miles distance across the broad rolling fields of Dubuque County. The gently rolling landscape is divided by Monastery Road which is met by McAndrews Road, a stark country lane which extends away from the monastery for a mile or two to Interstate Highway 151 lying right on top of the horizon. My bed roll where I sleep lies on a platform that comes up almost to the window sill. This means that, at night, I can lie in bed with my head propped on a pillow, and watch a car on Monastery Road turn right on to McAndrews road, proceed south for two miles (its tail-lights appearing and disappearing as the road climbs and descends four hills), and finally turn on to Highway 151. Walking into my cell at any time of day or night, I feel as if I had arrived in a place I have no desire to leave. Each day, of course, I depart this little heaven to attend to my responsibilities as a monk. But this is a concession I make only for a time. I will die in this cell and on the day I die, my head propped on my pillow watching the ruby colored tail lights fade and merge with the traffic on 151, it will seem I only lived in this cell for a few days. So, how did I come to this place? How did I end up living in this upper-storey room where watching the traffic fills my heart with an inexpressible gratitude? A long time ago, when I was very small, it seemed as if I met Jesus sitting on a sofa in our living room and heard him say to me: "Bobbie — come." He patted the cushion next to him and said: "You sit here." I took my seat next to him, and never left. You hear it said: "God will not let you rest. As soon as you become at ease with a situation in life, He will upset it and oblige you to give it up and move on to a completely new and challenging situation. Over and over again, God will surprise you, upsetting the plans you made so that you may grow in detachment and inner freedom. Such dramatic reversals may be more characteristic of Martha's vocation than Mary's. Martha is in motion and busy about many things. Her life makes a zig-zag pattern. Mary's vocation is different. Her life is less interesting and eventful. Sitting motionless at the Lord's feet, the days pass, hardly distinguishable from one another. There is little drama, only a wordless awe at the burgeoning fullness of each moment. She has no where to go. She is with the Lord. Sitting before my window this evening, and letting my eye venture down McAndrews road toward Highway 151, a voice in me says: "Will you leave me too?" "Lord", I answer, "Where would I go?"

Father Raphael