Day Fifteen: Your Voice Will Find You
Today’s Prompt: Think about an event you’ve attended and loved. Your hometown’s annual fair. That life-changing music festival. A conference that shifted your worldview. Imagine you’re told it will be cancelled forever or taken over by an evil corporate force. How does that make you feel?
Today’s twist: While writing this post, focus again on your own voice. Pay attention to your word choice, tone, and rhythm. Read each sentence aloud multiple times, making edits as you read through. Before you hit “Publish,” read your entire piece out loud to ensure it sounds like you.
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Retreating from the Faith
I don’t even have to try to conjure how I’d feel in this situation because I’ve actually lived it.
As I’ve mentioned before in other blog posts, when I was head of Women’s Ministries at our old church, one thing I was in charge of was a Fall Women’s Retreat. For twelve years I worked with a group of gals to hone the retreat, to find the right combination of learning, activities, fellowship, and personal time with God that would best meet the needs of the woman who attended. The drive behind what I, with the help of those four women did was to provide a place where the ladies could come and let the world fall away. A place to rest, to not have to think about their life outside the retreat house for just this little space of three days, to bond with each other, to have time to themselves . . . just a place to breathe and heal.
Holding down two jobs and playing taxi service to a junior high and a high schooler (who didn’t have his own car) pretty much kept me worn to a frazzle in those days. I needed that retreat as much as anyone. But the business of getting a facilitator lined up for the study, helping arrange an English tea for Saturday afternoon, and a hands-on group activity for Saturday night was a balm to me. It never felt like work. It felt like a privilege.
I was busy, to be sure, but I reaped a great sense of fulfillment from using a gift I think God had given me. In those days I often thought of what Jesus said about his yoke. “Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” (Matthew 11:29-30) And that’s exactly what I found as I fulfilled my role in that ministry.
But it wasn’t all work. On Saturday evening after we’d finished our group activity, sung some praise songs, and prayed, the ladies would be released for Compline — a time when we all took a vow of silence. There was always a short written assignment for them to do, often something to share during worship the next day. But after that they were free to spend the rest of the evening as they wished — as long as they didn’t talk to one another.
As soon as they went about their business, the five of us would decorate the small chapel for the morning service. We’d light candles all over the retreat house and turn out the lights. We’d put cd players in the commons room and the chapel to play quiet, meditative music. Then we were done for the evening, too.
That’s when MY retreat really started. I often found myself sitting companionably in the commons room with a few other ladies not saying a word, but mostly I would sit in the candlelight in the back of that little chapel and soak up the thousands and thousands of prayers of hope, gratitude, and heartache that had been whispered there over the life of that retreat house. It felt holy to me, as if I needed to take my shoes off before entering.
And it was during those evening hours that I absorbed that rarefied energy that filled my spirit up. It was there I felt the veil between this world and the next was the thinnest between me and God. The Celts believe there are places like that all over the world. They call them “thin places.” And for me, this was one of them. It was where I got my batteries recharged for another year of trying to remember we’re not human beings having a spiritual experience here; we’re spiritual beings having a human experience. Spiritual in the sense that life is eternal no matter what brand of faith you do or don’t practice. That is my heart-felt belief. That retreat house, that chapel was my holy place, my mountain top.
And then the Catholic diocese decided the retreat house was no longer profitable. They closed it down. I felt as if a part of my heart and soul had been violently ripped out of me. I fell into panic mode not knowing where I’d ever again find a thin place that would foster the kind of connection with the divine I’d felt in that little chapel. It may sound overly dramatic to say, but I believe I somehow lost God when that happened.
To say the closure of the retreat house affected my life would be an understatement. It has thrown me into a faith crisis that I’m still, thirteen years later, trying to deal with. It left a wound on my heart that I fear will never heal. I once likened it to Frodo’s wound by a Morgul blade in Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings. Not only would the wound itself never fully heal, but on the anniversary of his wounding, it always made itself known to Frodo in a painful way. I’ve asked myself the same thing Frodo asked:
“How do you pick up the threads of an old life? How do you go on when in your heart you begin to understand there is no going back? There are some things that time cannot mend, some hurts that go too deep that have taken hold.” (Return of the King, J.R.R. Tolkien)
Every Autumn I suffer from that wound again. And every Autumn I wonder what in the world God is trying to teach me by NOT healing that painful and lonely break in my heart, by allowing this spiritual crisis to continue in my life.
Recently a special friend of mine has given me a word I think I need to ponder in answer to that question. The word is “both.” Maybe it will help get me headed in the right direction again…if I can get my butt up on my camel, that is…
eLPy said:
Beautiful post. You were especially effective in incorporating drama by describing this wonderful place and the activities, love, and respect all you women have shared there, then you dropped the story flat like ice cream off a cone. Well done. The fact that the diocese would lack so much compassion, ironic really, and consider it not profitable enough is a true shame. Perhaps this is your time, your message, to go and create your own thin space, even your own retreat. 😉 You’ve certainly touched the hearts of many here and conveyed the importance and sacredness this retreat held for you. I’d bet your ladies would follow you…
Very well-written and heartfelt. I wish for you all the best.
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calensariel said:
Thank you so much for your lovely comment. Believe me, if I had the money I’d have purchased that property when it went on the market in 2004. They still haven’t sold it. I believe the Catholic High School it was originally built to service (home to the nuns who taught there) is soon going to be using it for exchange students. Maybe someday God will give me a new vision for a retreat center — in which case he’s going to have to provide the funds as well. But I would certainly love to do that.
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eLPy said:
😀
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Laurie@CompulsiveOvereatingDiary.com said:
Ah my friend, this bit of writing explains much. It is very, very hard to have such a blessing poof into the ether… especially when you were a co-creator as well as a participant in this special retreat. That powerlessness comes through. I’ve been thinking that powerlessness is a key component with my struggles. Thinking too much on what I cannot control, and giving it even more power. Not resting in the here and now – the new blessings that come my way. Not to say, this is your story, my friend, but what your beautiful writing brought up in me today. You are one of my thin places. You lift the veil between the known and the faith that we all have in one way or another.
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calensariel said:
It’s all inner connected, isn’t it, my friend. I certainly did feel out of control when that happened. The bottom plainly fell out. Not at all unlike all the ups and downs of other issues. I think, Laurie, that in a very important way COD has provided a thin place for many to either continue or start their journey. They are given to you for a little while, maybe longer, but what they get there is total acceptance, the freedom to be who they are. You have created that space the same as I was trying to do. We are much the same, you and I. {{{Laurie}}}
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Laurie@CompulsiveOvereatingDiary.com said:
Thanks for that. I do believe the show and the community came together in a way that was not completely of my design. It still has ups and downs and I still wonder if its time is over. Doubts creep in, and time and chance, but the chance we BOTH had to create and be part of such wonderful respites and to reach beyond ourselves, was a blessing and proof of miracles. {{{Cheryl}}}}
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calensariel said:
Laurie, are you seriously thinking it’s outlived its purpose then? And I was going to ask you what’s happened to Alan’s podcast?
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Laurie@CompulsiveOvereatingDiary.com said:
Alen just took some time away. – had some time as Mr. Mom. He’ll be back in some form in his time. For me, I’m not sure what I want to do. xoxoxox
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tjmark said:
Retreating from the faith and into the very arms of God, perhaps? At least I have found that true for me. It is anew place for sure, one with doubts and faith, pain and comfort. The waters are deep. Thanks for sharing this. I like your concept of Both. I will think on this today.
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calensariel said:
It is an interesting “ponderment.” (Not a word, but I like it!) To have to come to terms with a thing being both a curse and a blessing at once. Reminds me of Paul’s “thorn in his side.” You’ll have to stop back and let me know if you have some thoughts about it. Thanks so much for stopping by. It’s very comforting knowing there are other folks out there that can identify with strong emotions. People at church tend to look at me like I’ve gone round the bend if I dare bring it up.
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tjmark said:
Unfortunately, there are too many masks worn at church.
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calensariel said:
Yes. And they cover up so much fear, and sometimes just plain apathy. Wouldn’t it be nice if we could learn more compassion for one another?
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The Pickled Pastor said:
And find your voice, you did. Some time ago, I suspect. This is a beautiful post. Thin places … sacred spaces … holiness in time … windows to the Divine. Your words express both gratitude and longing. Thin places are everywhere. The world is breaking apart in pain and crumbling hope. We need to find these holy places; pray in them; let the Spirit brush our skin and send us out from them to share the promise and possibility of the “rest of one’s life.” Don’t think of it as a faith “hole.” Think of it as your faith “tattoo.” You are a marked woman. I can read that. Others see that. Your thin place is within you. Blessed journey …
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calensariel said:
I have gotten so many beautiful responses to this post that I’m feeling kind of aglow here. Your words, “The world is breaking apart in pain and crumbling hope…” touch me so deeply. It’s like you can walk down the street anymore without sensing it. I know that behind everyone’s eyes is a story that would break your heart. And you’re right. Possibility and hope is what they need. Thanks for yet another way to think about that experience. And for your lovely words. They do bless me, PP.
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Kay Stocking said:
Well written – make that, very well-written. As someone on the outside, yet not that far, may I suggest it’s time to let go. Maybe you have not found that place in God you knew so well at the retreat house, because you haven’t yet released it as having been a wonderful season that has passed. Letting go doesn’t mean you forget – just that you allow yourself the freedom to step into the next season unhampered by past.
May you find our Father afresh and in ways you could never have dreamed possible!
Blessings in Christ Jesus!
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calensariel said:
Thank you so much for your beautiful words, Kay. My friend has suggested the same thing, that it’s not an either or proposition, but a both. A blessing and a bit of a curse. Learning to reconcile the two is something I have to work on. I so appreciate your stopping by and reading.
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Fimnora Westcaw said:
A revelation lies within your story. My heart feels sad for that loss you suffered. I wonder if in some way this current course, is leading to that ‘Something More?’ Or has already led you there, and you need only recognize it.
Always it feels that a parallel exists between our personal journeys. I am glad to have had the opportunity to read yours. While it pains you, this remembering, this telling, it brings you to those moments which are imprinted upon your being, and that can never be taken from you, by anyone, ever.
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calensariel said:
I am wondering the same thing, too, Fim. You’ll have to share that part of YOUR journey with me. {{{Fim}}}
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Karthik said:
http://www.goodreads.com/quotes/741391-life-is-but-a-weaving-the-tapestry-poem-my-life
This is a poem which I came across that I believe is quite apt.
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calensariel said:
I had to smile when I read the poem. It is the one I posted yesterday without the last stanza. I’d never heard that part of it before. Nor did I know who had written it. Thank you so much for sending the link. Now I can go edit my post from yesterday. And thanks so much for stopping by, Karthi.
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Karthik said:
The pleasure was all mine.
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platosgroove said:
And the title is perfect
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calensariel said:
Yeah, didn’t even have to think about that one… 🙂
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platosgroove said:
Most profound and classically you, he said with a smile. The wound is blessing and curse. It motivated this lovely work. 🙂
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calensariel said:
You’ve given me a lot to think about. I was not wrong when I said God put you in my path for a reason… ❤
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