by Debbie Stevenson

In spring 2018 I was on a personal silent retreat. It was one of the last steps before graduating from a 3 year spiritual direction program. During those 3 days of silence, I discovered a desire for expression. I first began to notice this desire during my spiritual direction training and it also arose in sessions with my spiritual director. When I allowed myself to be silent and sit in centering prayer, I noticed a natural creativity flowing within me. I never knew I had any creative abilities. Others have that gift, not me. Or so I thought.

It was after one of those periods of silent listening that this poem came forth. As I live and move as a contemplative in the world, stillness shows me that there is something waiting to be expressed. This poem articulates my experience of discovering, exploring, and expressing a new life as I move through the transformation process. A transformation from closed to opened. Everyday I am more open to all that God has for me as I take flight into wherever that path leads me.

Cocooned By Debbie Stevenson

I have been Cocooned for most of my life,



Narrow space

Something is happening in

This space.

Wings form

A light shines

I push to the light

Like an infant pushing

from the womb.

Its wide open here



I feel wings that as I move

are infused with energy,

Ready for flight.

I look back

that cocoon now a tomb

were I to stay any longer.

I look forward

Lift to fly in the direction

Of the one who has called me forth

To this wide world of adventure and love.

I was born again, and again, and again…


Debbie Stevenson serves as a School Nurse for a private christian school. She is a recent graduate of Audire The Central Florida Foundation for Spiritual Direction, and a member of Spiritual Directors International. Debbie also serves on the board of Fresh Oil Ministries. Debbie’s many roles include wife, mother, and grandmother. She enjoys sharing contemplative practices with others. Debbie resides in Merritt island, Florida with her husband of 37 years.