A silent retreat - good for the soul

 

“Come away, come away, come away with me my love. Draw aside, rest a while, let me surround you with my love”.

I don’t know where you are all going but this is scripture – Song of Songs 2:10. What I included up there is a version of it - lines from an album that often played in our home growing up.

Father God calls for us to retreat, to spend time in His presence - find renewal, respite, restoration. It’s bloody out there – the world is like a war zone sometimes.

When a friend recommended a Jesuit silent retreat I stepped back. Who? And what do they believe? For me, it boiled down to the basics – do they believe Jesus is the son of God, that He was born of the virgin Mary, that He was crucified, died and on the third day He rose again and is now seated at the right hand of God the father, that He will come again to judge the living and the dead? Those things. If yes, I would take a shot, besides, I wasn’t about indoctrination just a quiet space to be with God.

God shows up where He is sought; in the church, in the mosque, in the temple – He is there - He is the God of all space.

“I pulled up to the retreat house about five or six and texted my hubby, "Yo hon’, smell ya later". I looked at the house, I was finally there, to sit in my prayer room as the princess of the most-high”. Cue the music! (I hope Fresh Prince doesn’t come after me for plagiarism or whatever).

The smell of baking pastries. A cozy living room with sofas and single chairs positioned to give a homely feel with privacy vibes. Newspapers and prayer books splayed on a side table in front of a fire place. A rocking chair. Gentle lamp light, miniature ornaments of Mary and Jesus, the stable, the shepherds.

Prayerful silence.

My room; a neat compact space large enough for a desk, a chair, a bed and wait for it, a sink and toilet – a comfortable cell. If another person walked into the room, it would be claustrophobic. If I decided to hibernate, if the quest for God required total isolation – decent solitary confinement of sorts – I could immerse, not see another human being and resurface 4 days later (3 days is exclusively for Jesus). It was possible is all I’m saying, but not my plan.

Program of events: Arrival, dinner, orientation; breakfast, mass, lunch, dinner (x3) … departure. Enough information for one to plan their time and involvement.

At six, dinner was served in the cafeteria. I picked a tray, served my meal and joined a lady who sat invitingly at a table in the corner of the room. I introduced myself. Two other ladies consecutively joined our table and with each new arrival, we took turns to introduce each other – that way we all remembered the names; Patrice, Robin, Mindy and Mary.

We were about twenty retreatants all together. Most in their mid-fifties and up. The ratio of females to males was 5:1.

Our table got rowdy as we exchanged stories of what winds blew us to this quiet. Both Patrice and Robin were grandmothers, they retreated regularly and found these moments of prayer centering. Patrice had been married twice, Robin lost her husband quite young and raised five children by herself. Mindy and I reveled in the stories. As we wrapped our heads around individual situations, our faces probably displaying extreme concern, the grandma’s assured us they’d lived good lives. 

“We were hot” Robin said, “We know hot!” she flipped back her gray ponytail. She added, “Don’t get us wrong, things may have shifted (she pointed to her body) but we turned heads in our day.” 

Her face filled with color as she described meeting her husband. “He wore a denim jacket and a buttoned-down shirt” she flipped her hair again – she’d clearly gone back to the moment somewhere in the 70’s – her eyes glistened. Patrice added, “Yeah, we did things that would turn your hair grey”. 

At this point Mindy and I were doubling over in laughter and cheering. It was nice to see older ladies light up – remind us that all ages are beautiful and life doesn’t end when one hits 60 and above – sometimes it actually gets better. Needless to say, our table was the loudest that night. But that was alright because those who needed to would go to the confessional and we’d be silent for the next three days.

I’m perfectly fine with silence but Robin was chocking her words back the next morning – her eyes were darting back and forth and I could tell she had words bouncing around in her head, words that so desperately wanted to escape but all we could do was smile and wave – it was God’s time.

A silent retreat means just that – no talk - a quiet time of prayer and meditation.

I signed up for directed prayer out of curiosity. I wasn’t ready. For thirty minutes each morning, I would meet with the father for guided prayer. Y’all, I know this sounds crazy like I told you, I wasn’t prepared but I was also curious about guided prayer.

Father Jeff: “Get into a comfortable position. Place your feet on the ground. Feel gravity – the centering of your body”

My mind: Ok

Father Jeff: “We see God in nature and feel blessed but we don’t stop long enough to hear what He is saying to us.”

My mind: He is right – that’s one way communication.

Father Jeff: “What is God saying to you?

Me: “I sense the warmth of His love”

Father Jeff: “How does it make God feel to hear you say that?”

My mind: Uhm!

Father Jeff: “What is He saying?”

My mind: Blank, like… wot? Like I should be a vessel through which both God and I communicate? I mean He speaks through the Holy Spirit in me, through other people, through scripture…

Eh! It was hard – like catching dandelions puffs blowing in the wind.

The basic idea is be so present in the moment, aware of our bodies, bringing them into submission to God. It takes practice. 

By the end of the retreat, I was getting a hang of it except in that last meeting. We sat quietly to pray when my stomach begun to growl. I’d just had breakfast but man! I think my stomach was super happy. In that silence you guys!! I burst into laughter – I tell you.  Father Jeff smiled, his first smile in the entire retreat. Anyways let’s just say God has a sense of humor.

My moments of prayer and worship in the quiet of my room, in the chapel, out walking by the waters were life giving and joyous. God truly waits for us to get alone with Him.

After communal prayer on the last day, Patrice, Robin, Mindy and I sat down to lunch – we could talk again. What did God say? There was consideration for fulltime ministry, clarity on certain family situations, and a resounding reassurance of God’s love and acceptance.

Get alone with God – when you wake up, on your commute, in the middle of the market, in a secluded hideout – He is waiting. Talk but also listen. He speaks.

“Keep your life so constantly in touch with God that His surprising power can break through at any point. Live in a constant state of expectancy, leave room for God to come in as He decides.” [Oswald Chambers – My Utmost for His Highest January 25^th]