Stepping back

A couple weeks ago, I was thinking about how it’s hard to tell sometimes whether our choices are in accordance with God’s will. I’ve never been a person to say, “This is God’s will for me” because, frankly, I’ve never felt entirely sure. If we have free will, we can make bad choices, which I would guess are against God’s will, and then we find ourselves in a rut we didn’t really want to get stuck in. On the other hand, the only explanation I’ve been given about how to know God’s will is that you are where He wants you. God’s will is for you to be where you are in the moment.

That’s always seemed a little bit of a dodge.

But this weekend, I really felt I was where I was supposed to be. And I didn’t really want to be there.

A couple months ago, one of my friends here had asked me if I wanted to go on a retreat. She was going to be the director. When she asked, my husband was still on deployment, and at the time a weekend away with Christ sounded like a great thing. When I finally turned in my application a month later, only 4 people had signed up, and so even though I was starting to feel the pressure of fall busyness, I committed to going because I felt sorry for my friend.

Imagine my surprise when I found out a few days before the weekend that 40 women were signed up.

I was strongly tempted to back out.

Not only was it going to be a big crowd, but I had just started a parttime job teaching 2 classes at the community college, in addition to teaching Latin at the elementary school 2 mornings a week, subbing occasionally, and putting in my community service hours, along with the daily attempts at keeping up with the kids’ hygiene and nutritional needs, and occasionally my own.

But I was still a little hopeful that I would have some quiet alone time. Time to pray, time to take a hike, time to read at bedtime if my roommate didn’t mind.

Only I had 40 roommates in a bunk room. I wanted to cry when I walked into the room and saw all those beds. I wanted to call my husband to come and get me immediately. But the retreat team had taken all the cell phones and watches. Tricky.

The next morning I woke up more confirmed that I wanted to leave. If I could say I woke up, because I’m not sure I ever completely fell asleep with the orchestra of night noises – snuffling, snoring, mumbling, tossing. Then began the race for the 3 showers shared among 40 women.

Fortunately, Mass was the first event of the day. And providentially, the priest gave a wonderful homily about discerning his vocation. He’s a handsome young Indian priest formerly of our parish who once was a successful business man in Bombay, but always felt empty. One day as he admired the sunset and thanked God for its beauty, he paused to ask God what He thought was beautiful, and the young man felt an inner voice say “All of you.”

Can’t reproduce his accent here, but his message was a part of the mesmerism that pulled me out of my bubble of surliness.

Needless to say the rest of the retreat progressively lifted my mood. Although the schedule was modeled after boot camp, by the end of the three days, my spirit was energized. Through the testimonies of the other women, I was reminded that my problems are small and mostly of my own making. I haven’t lost a husband to war; I haven’t lost a husband to drug abuse or alcohol. I haven’t had to run away from a violent one. I wasn’t orphaned or abused as a child. None of my children has died. My house hasn’t burned down after my husband lost his job. Enough sob stories were shared to script a season of soap opera episodes. What have I to complain about?

The women sharing these stories told them from the perspective of survivors, but they shared them because they knew the retreatants were also struggling with similar issues and weren’t able to envision what their lives would be like in a few months, or even next week. But the retreatants could look at the team members who had gone through these difficult situations and who were now smiling and laughing as they worked together to present the retreat. They weren’t getting a lot of sleep either, and they were doing a lot of hurrying about and bending and kneeling and standing, even though most of them weren’t young. They were acting as ministers to their sisters. Love was written on their faces. As I watched and listened, I realized that what I needed from this retreat was not time alone with Christ, but time to see Christ in others.

In the busyness of this season, I often neglect to look people in the eye. I rarely look my children in the face. I’m not naturally outgoing anyway, but I sometimes use busyness as an excuse to avoid connecting with people. Instead, I’m constantly looking at my list of “to-dos.” But this retreat reminded me to look beyond myself, to worry less about my small issues, and to pause to listen and look into other people’s eyes for it’s by connecting with other people that we encounter Christ.

(I'm happy to reconnect with my blog, too!)