Catching the Distractions that Make Havoc of My Vineyard

Feb 06, 2026

“My dove, hiding in the clefts of the rock …” (Song of Songs 2:14)

I used to be like that dove, hiding in the clefts of my own isolation. It felt too scary to go out into the world—a world where once I’d allowed myself to be lovingly vulnerable, only to have my gift of vulnerability trampled upon.

If you’ve ever endured any sort of trauma, you may be able to relate. It often becomes easier to hide away. Yes, it’s lonely inside that bubble of self-isolation, but at least it feels safer.

Yet Jesus doesn’t want that sort of life for us. In His infinite love, He desires that we not merely survive this life, gripping on in fear of what might come next, but He longs for us to thrive. He calls us out of our hiding place—out of ourselves, and into Him. He is calling, singing to each and every one of us.

To open our ears to God’s call is a grace and a blessing. He speaks in a variety of ways, depending upon our own unique personality, charisms, and situations in life. Sometimes He’ll sing His song over us through the voice of others, sometimes in books, music, or art. At other times He speaks directly to the soul, infusing her with supernatural peace. “Peace I leave with you, my peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid,” Jesus reminds us (John 14:27).

Once I began to more actively seek His graces, I discovered the voice of my Bridegroom was often difficult to hear. My internal turmoil was still too noisy; that “still, small Voice” was easily drowned out by interior bustle, worries and anxieties, negative self-talk and doubt. All that internal chatter was making havoc of my vineyard, the place where my soul dwells with God. I knew I needed to catch those wily foxes, the darting thoughts and worrisome reflections that took up too much room in my head.

“Catch the foxes for us, the little foxes that make havoc of the vineyards, for our vineyards are in flower” (Song of Songs 2:15).

Quieting the mind can be difficult, and as with all things I have to continually ask for the grace to be still. St. Teresa of Avila recommends beginning each prayer time with “the examination of conscience, the act of contrition, and the sign of the cross” (The Way of Perfection, ch. 26). Learning to recite these prayers not in rote repetition but slowly and thoughtfully brings them—and myself—directly into the presence of the Bridegroom. I visualize Him with me, knowing He is truly there. When my mind inevitably wanders yet again, I have to recollect myself by bringing my intellect back to the presence of Jesus. Patience with myself is also a virtue I’m learning to cultivate, because bringing my thoughts back to God is something I have to do often.

The unknown author of the fourteenth century text, The Cloud of Unknowing, puts it this way: “Lift up your heart towards God with a humble stirring of love; and think of Himself, not of any good to be gained from Him. See, too, that you refuse to think of anything but Him, so that nothing acts in your intellect or will but God Himself.”

That’s a hard task to sustain for any length of time, with my whizzing mind all awhirl, but through His grace it can be done.

Simply repeating the divine name of Jesus every time my mind strays helps to keep it centered on Christ. With enough patience, persistence, and prayers for grace, the ears of my soul are learning how to shut the gate of my vineyard so the foxes can’t creep in. Only Jesus is allowed within my interior vineyard, as He softly sings His healing words to my soul.