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| This work is on display at Mirarmar. It was painted by one of the Divine Word Missionaries, named Carlos. Reminds me of my childlike level of spiritual development as well as God's tender care, playfulness and assistance. |
There are so many excuses precluding quiet time with
God. It’s hard for me to unchain myself
from my office desk, to get away from my mobile phone and my laptop and to just
“let God do the work,” as my spiritual director said the other day. On Sundays, I try -– almost never doing paid work,
but frequently staying busy. In an
effort to extend this, for the third year in a row, I’ve gone on a weeklong
retreat. I’ve joined mostly vowed nuns and priests, and a handful of retired
laypeople. For the second year, I’ve
done this retreat at Miramar, which means “view of the sea.” It’s a beautiful
old home in Massachusetts, very close to Cape Cod, owned and run by the Society
of Divine Word Missionaries. This year, I
was on a directed retreat, which means there were no lecture-type conferences
that are part of what are called “guided retreats.” The directed retreat allows the retreatant to
follow their own path. The
recommendation is four private prayer periods, in addition to attending Mass with
the group. Predictably, I found many
things I felt I needed to do to take me away from the retreat. Some I—and I’m sure you--will question as to
the necessity.
I showed up without an empty journal, which is requisite on
retreat (I’ve heard the recommendation to bring only your journal and a
Bible). So I went into town to scout for
a notebook. I also forgot a sun hat,
which led me to the local thrift shop.
And then there were the two lobster lunches—hey, I’m not in
Massachusetts that often, right, and there was a glut of lobster due to the
high temperatures. A dream about Willie
Nelson led me to text some friends about going to see him perform at Farm Aid
in Hershey, PA. A concert that helps the
stewards of the earth? This is holy
work, right? Is it really any wonder
that my director was expressing that I wasn’t going “deep enough” in my
retreat?
There were a number of moments that were more in keeping
with the retreat. Several times when I
spent 20 minutes quietly in the meditation chapel practicing centering prayer
or meditation. Times when I consciously,
slowly, ate my food, and stared out at the grounds of the retreat center
silently. Occasions when I realized that even the wonders of the ocean didn’t
really compare to the awesomeness and grandeur that you can tap into when your
soul and God begin to meet.
All week, I heard a delightful croaking of frogs outside my
window from a pond on the Miramar property.
One of my last evenings there, I walked across the lawn to spot one of
the little guys. I slowly paced the
perimeter of the water filled with lily pads, stopping whenever I heard a croak
and trying to see where it came from. And
again: walking, stopping for a moment, looking, seeing nothing. I realized I’d have to stop and be still for
a very long time before a frog would make itself known to me. And I thought that was kind of like God—that
if I don’t stop for long enough, I’ll only hear enough to know that my Creator
is out there, but will never be able to take in the full manifestation. I think it’s a fairly simple conclusion from
this year’s retreat, but one that’s seemed to touch several of the people with
whom I’ve shared it. I expect I’ll continue
to struggle with unplugging and giving God enough of my time (and I question
whether “enough” is the right word—God wants all of us). But this morning I’ve got my votive burning
and sat still for 20 minutes. I suppose
I’ll keep trying.
