Honestly, I tend to experience spiritual dryness much more frequently than spiritual profusion. While my faith goes deeper than feelings, and I know a sense of profusion isn’t a right I’m entitled to, persistence in prayer does get challenging. Unsurprisingly, the Lord has brought forth many fruits from my deserts, yet it’s only when I’m paying attention that I notice them. And I so desperately want to pay Him attention, to fully recognize the multitude of gifts that fill my life. 

It’s been a busy sacramental year for my family: baptisms, two First Communions, one Confirmation, an Ordination, and a First Mass. Recently witnessing so many of my loved ones receive the sacraments has felt like fresh water poured on my soul. Over the past several months, I’ve experienced a profoundly deepened sense of the Lord’s presence.

When I say my sense of the Lord’s presence, I mean it literally. The sacraments, after all, bring heavenly realities to us on earth, allowing us to see, smell, hear, taste, and touch Him. They echo the Incarnation, inviting us to physically experience the Lord just as He took on flesh and blood to walk the earth and sanctify it. 

In my less reflective moments, the truth of the Incarnation almost seems like a basic, rote fact of my beliefs; it’s just the familiar teaching I first heard decades ago in CCD. And yet its reality runs so deep and speaks so clearly of divine love that the Son of God, come down to us, is anything but rote. “‘The Word was made flesh’ is one of those truths to which we have grown so accustomed that the greatness of the event it expresses barely makes an impression on us,” but “the event of the Incarnation, of God who became man, like us, shows us the daring realism of divine love. God’s action, in fact, was not limited to words. On the contrary, we might say that he was not content with speaking, but entered into our history…” (Pope Benedict XVI, General Audience, 9 January 2013).

As I consider this physical nature of God’s love, I feel a heightened sense of His realness and who He is. I’m reminded that the Lord isn’t distant, but here, tangibly present in the holy oils of Baptism, Confirmation, and Holy Orders; and, of course, at the Eucharistic table. 

I sense His presence in the fragrance of incense, the glory of an organ and choir; in the architecture of an awe-inspiring church. I sense Him too in the more hidden, interior moments of the sacraments: parents tenderly kissing their baby after wiping holy water from her face. The glow of my daughter’s smile, head bowed in what was somehow both reverence and joyful, can’t-believe-it laughter, after receiving the Eucharist for the first time. The holy tears of a brand-new priest’s mother, sitting in the front pew and drinking in the fulfillment of her son’s calling. 

To be clear, God does not dwell “in” these things surrounding holy moments. Rather, these things can orient–or re-orient–our gaze and reflections directly towards Him, offering a gift of encountering Him more fully. I firmly believe beauty, both material and emotional, is a bridge between our humanity and the heart of God’s love, for He is the source of beauty itself. Whether it’s outside of us, in breathtaking surroundings, or within, during those moments you can feel every heartbeat and it actually kind of hurts, we are given a glimpse of the infinite–through our senses, through our bodies, in a way that reminds me of my own humanity and the human nature Christ took on. 

I share this because I suspect I’m not alone in my seasons of dryness. I wonder sometimes if the dryness is one of the more bitter fruits of my tendency to distraction, or a lack of fortitude. Maybe you’ve experienced it, too, whether individually or in your married life. Like those long-familiar teachings of our faith that might seem deceptively unremarkable, your spiritual life might currently feel like it’s on autopilot or in a dry spell, lacking that spark of renewal or that sense of awe at all the Lord is.

If you and your spouse are feeling this, I encourage you this month to lean into your senses, engaging with the Lord through your surroundings. At Mass, gaze upon the art, windows, and structure of the chapel; hone in on a musical instrument; feel the solidity of the kneeler and pew beneath you. At home, choose a spot for prayer and consistently spend time there each day for a week, observing the silence or taking in just a few words or images at a time with spiritual reading or sacred art. For me, the simple act of mindful attention has drawn me more deeply, more consciously, and more sensibly into His goodness.

I also suspect my husband and I aren’t the only ones with at least one sacrament on the calendar. Next time you attend a baptism, wedding, or other sacramental celebration, let it magnify His presence as you intercede for the recipients and enter more deeply into your own relationship with Him. 

Ask Him to show you the reality of heaven touching earth, and let yourself be surprised and filled with wonder, renewed in the sheer magnitude of His love: “The heavens declare the glory of God; the firmament proclaims the works of his hands. Day unto day pours forth speech; night unto night whispers knowledge…it comes forth like a bridegroom from his canopy, and like a hero joyfully runs its course” (Psalm 19:1-3, 6. Emphasis added).