Even better - the view from the swing was magnifique: glowing aspens everywhere, with bluegreen mountains behind, followed by even bluer sky. Our director Bill said that he had never been at this retreat spot at a beautiful time of where. I believe him. I wish I had eyes on all sides of my head, because everywhere you look, the earth was bursting with color.
Our retreat lodge, called St. Anne's, was nestled in the mountains about an hour southwest of Denver. It was right next to a camp called Santa Maria, which had a large lake stocked with fish. We took a hike the first night we were there, in search of the giant statue of Jesus that looms over the mountain. You can see Jesus from wherever you are; at night, he is illuminated by flood lights and outshines the moon - no flashlights necessary! Fortunately for us, we got lost en route to Jesus, and ended up in an aspen grove as beautiful as a dream.
These are called 'quaking aspens,' because when the wind so much as whispers to them, they come alive, shimmying and shivering and shaking and making a tremendous rushing noise. I lay beneath the aspens, watching them tumble down all around.
Don't worry - we eventually found our way to Jesus! The view from his feet was breath-taking. You could see up and down the valley and across to the adjacent mountain range. On the way back down, we came across a little waterfall and followed the stations of the cross (backward) back to the lodge.
I am so grateful for the time to go on retreat. We studied the Walk to Emmaus passage (in Luke 24), led by a wonderful married couple named Cathy and Kurt. I'm especially grateful that I had so much time to be alone, to think and examine what the year has been so far, and to let my mind wander until all my colliding thoughts work out their harmony and leave room to listen to the gentle voice of God.
More than anything, the retreat encapsulated for me a theme that has occured lately - the intermingling of joy and sorrow in the marrow of life. Lately it has seemed that ecstasy has followed on the heels of despair, and vice versa. At one point in the retreat, we reflected on various losses in our lives, just as the disciples reflected on Jesus' death en route to Emmaus (not knowing yet of his resurrection). To dig up past hurts and betrayals was very tender, and to share them with my housemates even more so. The weight of our collective sorrow lay heavy upon me, and at break time I fled outdoors. One step outdoors, and the beauty of the aspens, the sky, and the autumn air once again impresses itself upon me, and now I'm not sure whether to cry because of sorrow or because of joy. How can it be that such beauty inhabits the same world as broken marriages, prematures deaths, and heartache?? I cannot comprehend it.
Later, while relaying this experience to Mary Frances, she says to me - "the whole of life is found in Jesus' Paschal mystery - passion, death, and resurrection. We share in that daily." Oh what a thought to chew on, to ponder, to let it soak in until truly my very being is shaped by the swell of hope admist the darkest night. We are in some ways like the disciples going to Emmaus, stumbling along in confusion, in desparate need that Jesus come and talk with us, reveal himself in the breaking of the bread; but also, we know of the resurrection! As a dear friend wrote to me this week, in the context of two young people who recently died suddenly, "How could one live without the hope of the resurrection?"
My soul is refreshed from time apart and time together with my always vibrant housemates. I hope you all are well, and find refreshment in the beauty of the autumn and the hope we have in Christ. Pax et bonum.
1 comment:
Dear Bethany,
What a lovely description of your retreat from the physical to the spiritual. Life's journey. Going on. The hills and the valleys. The bright spots and the dark. Stepping from one into another without a warning or transition. Comingled. Love, Mom
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