Silent Retreat 2007 summary

I went this year hoping, I think, to recapture something. I wouldn't have admitted that ahead of time, but as the retreat went on, it became clearer to me that God was more interested in the present moment than he was in transporting me back in time to give me an experience or feeling I've had before. Two years ago, I went at the end of a terrible time with Bill....really the culmination of all that was the worst in our marriage. By the time I actually went, some things had cleared and it was on the upswing, but I needed my retreat to help me sort out the marriage thing better and to recapture a sense of God in my life. I had just formally come into the Catholic Church three months before the retreat after a long and eventful journey, and I just needed to rest and regroup. At that time God made his presence known in a few 'big' ways: synchronicities, overwhelming insights, times of tears and wrestling, new perspectives, miraculous hiney-tingling hair-raising Presence. Needless to say it was a major event in my spiritual life, and it ushered in an almost-two year period of joy. Joy in God, joy in my marriage's turnaround, joy in life. But there is subtle trouble afoot when one neglects the present and tries to live off the fat of a past experience. You can go for awhile assuming everything is OK, you can brush off small offenses, you can ignore creeping aridity -- because you, in the past, experienced God so powerfully, or because you had a conversion in your marriage. But eventually the cumulation of those collective apathies catches up. In my case, I realized how long it had been since God was an everyday encounter for me; I realized all the signs of strain and tension that my marriage was sustaining; I realized how presumptuous I'd become.

So I thought going on a retreat would take me back to something I'd found before. But God doesn't seem to work like that. He didn't appear, speak, or otherwise grant me an 'experience' I could look back later on and say, "Yeah, that proves to me that God was present with me." Nope, the benefit of this retreat was in learning something else.

On the first day that I met with Sr. Barbara, after listening to the short version of my background, etc., she startled me by saying, "You are close to God." Just like that. Matter of factly. I was stunned....how could she dare to make such an assumption to me after 10 minutes? I asked her. She replied, "Because you ARE!" ( She was not, lest you suspect it, some touchy-feely sister who strummed a guitar and made sure everyone felt positive feelings. She was probably in her 50s and from Brookline MA and I envisioned her going to high school with Hillary Clinton.) So I stopped and thought about it. What if I just accepted her observation as true? What if I stopped beating myself up with how I SHOULD be close to God, and why I WASN'T close to God, and what I needed to do so I WOULD be close to God once again, and just accepted as true that I was now as close to God as I'd ever be? How would that change my life and thinking?

So again, I was dealing with the topic of God's presence, but now I was dealing with it as a reality. That God is already Present. That God never moves. That not only can nothing separate me from the love of God (height, depth, etc.) in an eternal kind of otherworldly sense, but nothing separates me from God in every single isolated present moment of my life. That I can awaken every morning and assume a stance of Presence, not Absence. I am close to God.

How would it seem different to live in that realization, really? It might mean that I'd never have another 'experience' of God's presence; could I live without it? It could mean that I'd begin to realize God's presence in dullness, in ordinary chores, and release my death-grip on needing to feel significant in some grand cosmic scheme, and just relax in being who I am in my little insignificant corner of the world.... and be okay with that. Can I come to grips with being Insignificant? Can I rest assured that God's Presence doesn't depend upon my achieving anything in my life or 'impacting' anyone? Maybe this perspective would mean that I would start to recognize that God is, in fact, the very person I'm talking to, the very pot I'm scrubbing, the very steering wheel I'm turning. God is appearing to me all the time; maybe I'm just not seeing it. Maybe his essence resides in the space between the whirling electrons of everything I see. Maybe his essence is love, and wherever something is done with love, wherever someone needs or senses love.... that's what God is. (Catholic theology even speaks to this idea ....Thomas Aquinas says that the Spirit is the generation of love between the Father and the Son.) Or as Erasmus, and Jung after him, said, "Bidden or not bidden, God is Present."

That I suppose sums up my retreat. There's a lot more. But at least I know my starting point now: I am close to God.

I discovered some good reading: I'm reading the autobiography of Therese of Liseaux. She's of a different time and frame of reference, but she's an interesting character who has a lot to say about laboring in obscurity! I also picked up two other really good books on the spiritual life: one is "The Saints' Guide to Happiness" and the other is an older classic "Abandonment to Divine Providence" -- both are worth going through a few times.

Easter meditations

I had a few insights this Easter, from the beginning of Lent until now.
- It's easy, in a marriage that is for the most part free of big issues anymore, to begin to settle into a familiarity that starts taking the other for granted, that becomes polite but not passionate. Bill and I had that discussion during Lent and then, when I went to church the following Sunday, it dawned on me that that's true of one's faith as well. When the season of questing and wrestling is more settled, the ardor settles as well, and the sense of the presence of God starts to fade. It isn't as 'real' (even though it IS real) and not as fun...just like the marriage. So finding ways to regain connection takes effort in marriage (and with God). Paths that sometimes lead to intimacy and knowing can, at other times, become stale, and new paths need to be cut.
- There's a period of time between when hope is lost and resurrection occurs. I thought of this on Holy Saturday and photoblogged about it a little. In my life, I can think of several times (two of lifechanging significance) when I saw my dream die. Really truly die. It was over. And I lived in that place, bereft. But hope was around the corner. I couldn't see it. I think you sometimes have to completely lose something (it has to be beaten and crucified, and taken down, and laid to rest, and mourned) before you are ready to find it resurrected in a better form than imaginable before. If you try to shortchange the loss by continually protecting yourself from such a profound loss, you'll never experience the resurrection. No one in their right mind seeks the loss (wants their marriage to end, wants their child to die, wants to be homeless or jobless or diseased, wants to lose their faith) -- but it seems that often it is in retrospect that one can say, despite the bitter loneliness of Holy Saturday, they found resurrection and hope and life and goodness on Easter, and they wouldn't go back. Whether Holy Saturday lasts for them 2 hours or 20 years...they wouldn't go back and change it.
- Without hunger, food doesn't taste as good. When I stay sated, I tend less to be focused on hunger and what positive effect hunger can have in driving me to the thing I most need. Fasting has a way of burning away and cutting to the heart of things. I don't practice it enough, or well. But when I do, I'm instructed by it. It ties in with the other points, too. It is one of those ways to experience bereftness in order to experience joy; it's a path toward learning not to take something for granted.

This was a selection from Gustav Mahler's Finale to the Resurrection Symphony (translated) sung during mass today. I really like it.

Oh believe, my heart, oh believe:
You will lose nothing!
What you wanted, you will have.
What you loved and fought for, you will have.

Oh believe:
You were not born in vain!
You did not live and Suffer in vain!

What was born must die!
What passed away must rise again!
Stop your quaking!
Prepare yourself for living!

Oh pain! You, the all-penetrating!
From you I have escaped.
Oh death! You, the all-compelling!
Now you must yourself submit!

With wings that I have won for myself
In my ardent quest for love,
I will soar up
To the light, to which no eye has beheld!
Die I must, in order to live.
Rise again, yes, rise again you will.
My heart, in one moment!
That which beat you
To God will it carry you.

Lent is good for setting things right

...for returning to the place I should be.

For too long, I go along slip sliding into a comfortable place. Lent is to some degree about discomfort...fasting, abstinence, denial. All those kinds of discomfort bring my soul into a place to better address my need to be shaken up a bit: to return to a path from which I've strayed, to confess the faults I'd sooner forget, to right the wrongs I've perpetuated in my world, to renew the intentions I've made in the past and bring them into line with the present. It's a good time to recognize how I've taken people for granted... Bill reminded me of that this past week. It's a time to come face to face with the sly way controlling tendencies worm themselves back into my relationships. It's a time to return to prayer, to attention, to deliberateness. It's a time to approach my spirit with greater reverence. It's a time to challenge myself to be the one I claim to be.

In this vein, I spend some time:
- in solitude. Not reading blogs, not posting my photos, not scanning articles. But thinking my own original thoughts, being with myself and my thoughts long enough to glean from myself.
- with friends, strengthening connections that are real and not superficially based.
- in yoga. Working on my fitness, my inner awareness, and my body/spirit connection.
- in prayer. Actually doing what everyone talks about.
- envisioning my desired life.
- returning to my roots in non-coercive parenting and non-controlling spousing.
- designing compassion projects that are doable for me.
- loving Bill well. Doing something, however small, to let him know he's important to me.

Where I am From

I am from sweet tea and Little Debbie cakes, from biscuits from scratch and from real butter. I am from fried chicken and Uncle Ben’s, from three square meals, with a yellow and a green vegetable, a starch, a meat, and maybe if I was lucky, a big bowl of ice cream. I am from Sunday dinners with the missionaries from Jordan, Kenya, Peru, Japan.
I am from a blue and white Delft kitchen, from wide porches and colonial pillars, stone fireplaces and murals of the Matterhorn. I am from rabbit ears and rotary phones. I am from cedar split rail fences and bamboo hiding spots. I am from a drafty cedar closet lined with piles of old National Geographics. I am from wrought iron balconies and shag carpet. I am from cool basement and attic fan, from the hook and eye on my mom and dad’s door, and from wobbly crystal doorknobs. I am from the porch swing that lived inside, for courting. Because of course, when the squeak, squeak, squeak stopped, one needed to take note.
I am from towering magnolias, fragrant blossoms with matchstick centers and red seeded pods when the blossoms faded. I am from boxwoods so large I could hide in them every afternoon and play school, and house, and lead the choir. I am from weeping willows I could climb when I was sad. I am from sand dollars and shark’s teeth, palmettos and scrub pines. I am from creeks and boulders, birthed from the ancient Appalachians. I am from Pop’s roses, and Grandma’s jonquils, and the occasional stolen hydrangea from Mrs. Ballentine’s yard.
I am from the Cobb reunion, and I am from early to bed and afternoon naps. I am from judgment and generosity. I am from Papa Cobb, patriarch of my mother’s line and I am from Lib and Katy and Fran and Ruth and Sue, steel magnolias all of them. I am from bad grammar and good hearts. I am from Pop, who took me fishing and drove 30 miles back to Greenwood once, when I left my Barrel of Monkeys at the restaurant. I am from Grandma’s fried pies and paperdolls, and I am from rockers on her porch. I am from alcohol, and pedophilia, and drugs and mental illness; and I am from bedside prayers, and faithfulness and love that withstood.
I am from good humor and laughter. I am from not saying what you truly feel. From being a good girl and not breaking their hearts, like Bob did.
I am from Wesley and Calvin. From altar rail and font. From twice on Sunday and once on Wednesday night. I am from red church doors, the Trinity hymnal and offering envelopes. From soloists and organists and people who had it together, no matter what.
I am from Greenville, from the foothills. From grits and gravy, and Grandma’s lemon pound cake. I am from the summer scent of chlorine. I am from the comforting aroma of leaf mold quietly decaying under a canopy of oaks and hickories.
I am from black-leafed leather albums holding black and white squares of dogs and smiling children and Easter hats. I am from carousel upon carousel of aging colored slides, journaling trips to Egypt and Greece and France, to Kennebunkport and Myrtle Beach and Abbeville.
This is where I am from.

Do you know .... The Secret?

Naysayers, just hold your tongue.

Did anyone see the Oprah shows about The Secret? I did. I was mezmerized. I realize that there's nothing new under the sun, and that this is nothing revolutionary. But with that caveat, I'll have to say it confirmed for me things I've noticed over the last years, things I've observed spiritually, things I've observed in my relationships with children and family. Somehow, the way the messsage was packaged really spoke to me. Not in a way that I'm living so differently from "The Secret", but it spoke to me in a way that says, "You already know this! Remember when such and such happened?.... That was this principle in action!" It spoke to me in ways that I might find helpful to take me further along the path of life I want to create for myself. It dovetails with what Bill's been learning and implementing in his life through his life coaching. It's a message that my kids need to hear. It was the most inspired I've felt in a long time.

I've ordered the DVD, jumped on the bandwagon, and am planning on making my life and my world a better place.

Do YOU know The Secret??

PS. If you missed the Oprah show today and last week you can go to www.thesecret.tv or to Oprah's website and learn more.

On opportunities

This is the photo that made me cry.

We took M to Duke University yesterday. We sat in on a class, ambled around campus, ate at the Great Hall, watched the video, toured with the admissions volunteer, and sneaked into the gym. There he picked up a basketball and took a few precious shots. On the hardwood at Duke University. Duke. The Blue Devils. Coach K has walked on that floor. All the greats that he has admired have practiced on those hoops.

And he could have it.

At first he was impressed, engaged, envisioning himself there. He listened and observed. He talked and evaluated. At first. But slowly, the demon that haunts him got the best of him. He began rationalizing why he couldn't, why it's really not so great, why his dreams were just kid's dreams.

I hate that demon. It's the same demon that renders him an underachiever. That tells him to shoot himself in the foot. That blinds him to the wealth of opportunities before him. That causes him to cave under a self-inflicted Pressure to Succeed. That causes him to despise the very gifts he's been given. That stifles the passions that are there. That makes him value mediocrity as the mark of someone cool.

When I got this photo back, it just crystallized all those feelings for me: The boy. The posture. The ball. The place. The time. The screen. The choice. The opportunity.

A contract is in order

I admit that the noncoercive parent in me bristles. But the realities of broken trust must be factored in the fabric of our lives, unfortunately. And so the last week has been spent in thinking...how to live after the trust has been broken; how to live with the knowlege that there is a cycle of self-defeating behavior going on; how to reconcile the spiritual, the sociological, the psychological aspects of this one person, our son; how to address the practicalities of life, which have been on hold this week. It hasn't been a fun place to be, as a parent, and probably an even less fun place to be as a 15 year old!

Tonight dh and I proposed a contract. By signing it ds would be allowed to start at the public school asap, with no determination made for the following year. One thing at a time. Since I'm unwilling to homeschool anymore, he needs some solution. Otherwise, he would have to continue at the homeschool coop, and just lose the half credit that I was teaching him this semester. But he is miserable homeschooling, and I do feel like he has more than atoned for smoking pot.

Here's the contract.
"I will go this semester to R High School.
Here’s what I agree to:
ACADEMICALLY:
I will finish all outstanding homeschool work by Jan. 15.
I will spend two hours a day doing schoolwork. Academic housekeeping, reading, studying, reviewing, writing, homework, research, or just plain thinking... I’ll schedule two hours per day to do this, without the interruptions of TV, cellphone, or IM.
I will keep a planner, that is available every night (not left at school).
I will make all As and Bs on all report cards, including progress reports.
If I start strong, and then begin slacking off on any of these, I’ll lose privileges. I know that up front and I’m not going to make mom and dad miserable when they enforce this.
I will continue piano twice a week with the current practice requirements (30 minutes a day), and I will do a student show, in order to get the credit for Piano Performance.
I will continue to play with W___, in order to get the credit for PE.
SOCIALLY:
I will not drink alcohol, smoke pot, or any other of those things that will get me nowhere.
I will tell the truth. No lies, no hedging, no rationalizing.
I will rebuild trust with dad and mom. If something goes on at school, or where I am, that isn’t right (drinking at a party for example) I’ll let mom and dad know. Not so that they can have a coronary, or so I can get someone in trouble, but so I can rebuild trust. I won’t make mom and dad guess what’s going on, and I won’t make them ask the ‘right questions’ in order to know what’s going on.
Facebook, My Space, and anything like that will be open to mom/dad. There aren’t any realms where I have a secret life.
I will not orient my life toward my friends, and be strangers to my family. I’ll have my friends over here so mom and dad can get to know them.
I will go to church with the family.
I understand that my social privileges will be gradually reintroduced, and I’m not going to give mom and dad grief about it. Trust takes time, and I’ve really blown it to date.

Additionally, I am signing here that my attitude is going to be that mom and dad are on my side, trying to help me and that they may see things I’m not able to see. So I’m admitting that I trust them to have my best interests at heart. I’m willing to humble myself and accept whatever ‘suggestions’, restrictions, or programs they have (down the road, based on how things go).
I understand that although this is a checklist, it isn’t exhaustive, and it isn’t a list of rules. Rather it is reflective of a few basic values: truth, integrity, self-discipline, trust, and cooperation to name a few. The intent here is that I am going to live in the truth.
I understand that decisions about my junior and senior year will be made later, taking everything into account for my best interests and based on what I learn about myself in the meantime and on what mom and dad observe. I am not interested in accepting less than what I’m capable of, and decisions about the future will focus on this.
I’m signing this of my own free will, because I want to succeed, I want to make positive changes, and because I realize that going to school is a privilege...and not because it’s what mom and dad want to hear. I’ve asked all the questions I need to make sure that I understand what I’m signing."

He clarified a few points, but overall seems happy to sign it. From our POV, we want to follow up with counseling, mentors, ADHD evaluation/accomodations, etc. There's no way this isn't coercive, but I think he does realize that we're in a screwed up morass and this is a hand up. So he's willing to take it. We'll see what happens. Our options, if he becomes passive about fulfilling it, are slim and I recognize that going into it. But ... theres not a lot of other ways to go, to our way of thinking, after a week's brainstorming. So here we go.

insights

On the way home from the beach yesterday M and I talked a lot about what happened with him on new year's eve. Between the two of us we came up with these insights.
-He loves the thrill of adventure, fun, adrenaline, risk....not so much the actual form it takes (alcohol, pot, dares, etc)
-He has something going on (psychological or spiritual or both) where he forgets the wrong thing he's doing even as he's doing it. He has an incredible capacity to zone out of his own life so he doesn't have to deal with the dichotomy of belief and action, and so he doesn't feel the pangs of conscience.
-He's resistant to God, though it doesn't sound too nice to admit to it.
-What causes the greatest losses in his life are not the bad actions themselves. It is always the lying about it afterward that causes the losses...of school, of reputation, of opportunities. People are usually willing to forgive if you're really sorry and admit to your failing. If you don't demonstrate a striken conscience, and you lie to cover up, folks aren't too willing to give much.
-He lies to himself on a daily basis, always rationalizing things that are unpleasant (whether it is a pesky conscience, or homework, or whatever)
-Somehow this amalgamation of self-deceit, dulled conscience, living in a fog, thrill-seeking, risk-taking, lies, etc. is causing a cycle of self-destruction. Just when he keeps his nose clean for awhile, then he is presented with the opportunity (in whatever form it takes...could be cheating at cards, or streaking on the golf course, or stealing something just because he can, or getting high...) to take backward steps. He seizes the opportunity. Then he denies his involvement, both to himself and to others. And then he loses any forward progress he's made, and his chances for a 'normal life' get less likely.
-It really does take stuff like honor, responsibility, living with integrity, perseverance, a good name, self-discipline, and all those other old fashioned concepts to lead a normal happy life. Otherwise you're crippled.

Not keeping up

I'm not keeping up with my life. My only time to myself is moments like this...the hours when everyone else is in bed, and I have insomnia to thank that I'm not. Advent's supposed to be a time of reflection, but I find myself unable to reflect and pray because of all the activity.... and I haven't even begun shopping yet!

My only source of online friendships is closing next month. So that leaves me in a place of grief, vulnerability, and loss. I'm coping with that news, and it's forcing me to rethink my time committment to the internet. It's forcing me to recognize that it may be a blessing in disguise, because it affords me a chance to connect more fully with the real world; to renegotiate my relationship with cyberspace. Folks at this forum are hurting as well, and it is making me evaluate all the years' investment I've given to the relationships. To be sure, the forum has been a bright spot in my days, a source of inspiration toward change, a support group from which to bounce ideas and experiences. It has been a rich experience. But this whole overnight evaporation of the entity... it has me doing some major reevaluation.

LaQuinta and that whole experience has been incredibly draining. Her values and culture are such that I'm having a hard time respecting. Shirking responsibility, inconsideration, poor communication, imposition ... it has all taken a huge toll on me, and on my family. Clark has mistakenly felt that we wanted him to serve as babysitter for the girls. Mackenzie, my chipper one, has been in a funk of losing the sense that his house is his castle, as has Bill. Something's gotta change, and I think we're going to just pay some rent for her in order for her to move out this weekend. We need to inhabit our own home again before Christmas. We need a break. I cannot say it hasn't been a good experience, insofar as we've alleviated a need, we've learned from the inside about a culture and way of life that was foreign, we're given of ourselves and hopefully made a difference in the lives of the little girls. I wouldn't trade it, honestly. But time's up.

Our dear friend is being ordained to the priesthood (actually, this happened last night) and I'm in charge of the reception on behalf of the school, where he'll be chaplain. So throwing this party has been my responsibility, and the reception is tonight. I have no idea whether it will go well or not. I am hoping so, but ... you there's only so many hours between now and then, and I have no idea whether we'll have 75 people or 300. A bit tough to plan for, eh?

And Clark was received into the church and confirmed Wednesday. What a path for him to want to do that! I need to do a blog post just about that event. Then last night, with exactly 24 hours of being a Catholic under his belt, he served a very visible role as a server at our friend's ordination. He held the book for the bishop. So he spent two hours in front of a huge crowd of clergy and friends on his knees before the bishop, standing, moving, trying to figure out the ropes of altar service. He did an exceptional job. Amazing.

Then there is Grayson. He has left (Friday morning, Australia time) with a friend he met over there in a rental van for a month long trek around the Outback. He's heading first to the Great Barrier Reef, then down to Ayer's Rock, and on to the cities along the southern coast of Adelaide and Melbourne, finishing up at Sydney. What an adventure. But what a lot for a mother to deal with, thousands of miles away.

And I've no presents for Christmas. And my house is a wreck. And my homeschooled child needs to have exams written, and review sheets for said exams, and applications filled out for school next year... and his mom thus far has not succeeded at that.

I'm just not keeping up with my own life. There's too much needed of me, too much emotion elicited from me. I gotta find a way to cope with all this.

Advent Begins!

I pulled decorations down yesterday, intent on getting my Advent wreath set up before it was actually needed (a departure from the usual practice). I don't have many Christmas decorations and sometimes I wish I did. Like now. :-) But I think I'd rather be minimalist than excessive if I had to choose. If I can decorate the stairway with garland, the front door with a wreath, two mantels, and a tree ... that will be enough. I don't have a theme, or a collection of kitchy artifacts, most likely because those things just aren't meaningful to me. I'd have to manufacture an interest in, say, nutcrackers, which I don't currently possess. But I do love a home that feels cozily Christmas, and so I'll try to find that balance.

This is going to be a full season for us. The beach house is available this month to us, so I know that Bill is going to want to go down there a time or two. Then there is LaQuinta and her housing issues to consider. Then Clark's confirmation on the 13th, and our friend's ordination on the 14th, and the reception in his honor the 15th that I'm in charge of organizing. Somewhere in there I've got to figure out what I'm going to get everyone and shop for it! And decorate! And finish up the semester of homeschooling! And start a new painting class! And cook nourishing meals so I don't swell up like a balloon with holiday food!

I guess everyone feels the pinch of the holidays. I wish it weren't so, but it seems to be almost a matter of fact. Last night we intentionally didn't go to something we were supposed to be at just to have a boring evening! This in part because, Bill's concussion is still giving him trouble. For instance, he tried to help bringing down boxes from the attic, and immediately got a headache. He is supposed to fly to Chicago today, and I'm worried that this trip might be too taxing on him right now.

Anyway, Advent begins today, and I hope that the season brings a measure of blessed peace with it!

12 Things to be thankful for today.

1. Grayson is OK overseas. He was in charge of making mashed potatos for the 2 Canadians, 1 British, and 5 Americans that comprised his 'family' Thanksgiving. He's found a job, he's settled in a city by the beach, he's found friends and an apartment. He's living his life, and he IS alive, and for that I'm grateful.

2. My dog. When you're driving down the road schlepping folks all over town, and you feel isolated and meaningless, there's nothing like soft fur and an occasional lick on the face. And then when he leans out the window to catch the wind, looking for all the world like a misplaced hood ornament, it cracks me up. It can be 30 degrees out, but I'll roll the window down because it makes him happy, and it makes me laugh.

3. That I don't have to trade lives with anyone. My life is good. This is especially pronounced this year with LaQuinta here.... Almost always, I take my life for granted....it's just my boring life. But when you see others who have no (NO) resources, no web of support, no stable base, no healthy heritage, few skills (life or career), little education or curiosity .... you realize those things are nothing to take for granted.

4. Bill. We're almost 18 months into our second marriage, and it is a world different than the first marriage.

5. This year home with Mackenzie. Although he's about to go stir crazy for lack of social interaction, I'm just plain grateful to get to spend time with him. He's a fun person, and makes me laugh often.

6. Clark's confirmation coming up. That he followed his heart, and not a path we prescribed, and yet he wound up with us in church anyway. He was so resistant to anything Catholic for several years, so this is really a pleasant surprise. And he starts serving at the altar the night after his confirmation, so he's really following a serious path.

7. My house is feeling homey and almost finished in the decorating department.

8. Chelsea is my friend. I really enjoy her, even though it isn't a 'talk every day' kind of thing. She gets me, I get her, and it's really nice. I'm grateful she's contemplating gastric bypass...I would love to see her healthy and attractive and more engaged in life.

9. My Apple. :-) Ahhhhhh.

10. My friends ... I don't have LOTS of friends, but I'm honing in on the ones who are true, and that is nice. Friendships have changed over the years, especially because of church affiliation, and so they've been in flux. But a few old friends are dearer than ever, and a few new friends give me hope that I can find a community of dear friends.

11. Trapdoor Society, my online community. It's part of my life every day and my life is richer for the perspectives and people who make it up. I've been deeply changed, and wholeheartedly supported there.

12. My art. That I've really connected with painting and with artists this year. I still don't give it the time it needs but I'm grateful for what I [i]have[/i] been able to give it.

across the ocean

I talked to Grayson last night. I realized (as if I hadn't before) that he's living HIS life. I'm not sure what that is, but I'm sure I probably don't want to know everything! He's got a job, though he wants to find another since they have him working Th,F,S &Sn nights and that is cramping his style. He's tending bar, although he says that mostly means he washes glasses. But still. And 2 of 3 of his roomates are girls... and his photos always have him with one of them... so is there more to that? Ack. I want to know, but I don't want to know.

I keep reminding myself that he needed to sow his wild oats, and he didn't need to waste a year of college doing it. So he's sowing. And I have no control over where that takes him in life. Will he even come back and go to college? I suppose he will, but who knows? Now he's talking about buying a car and driving to Perth in the spring. You think you've imparted your values to your children...but have they been shared values or were they just adopted while they seemed to serve a purpose, but now circumstances have changed...

I'm torn. Will we look back on this time with G in Australia as a good thing? I hope so. The intentions were good. I guess the completely out-of-control mom in me is doing some second guessing. I'm honestly happy for him. And I miss him. And he'll be so changed when he gets back...

I lit a candle last night

For the second day, I took little Niyah into daycare. For a second day I kissed Washita off to the school bus. The night before I sang them to sleep. And last night, when their mom wasn't at home for dinner, and hadn't let me know where she was, and I had to be somewhere ... it hit me. These children need a Mother.

LaQ has so many great qualities and I love her. But she is content for others to raise her children. Get them into daycare! The government vouchers pay for it, so whether she's working or not, she sends them to daycare. The bus takes W to school, and then to daycare. When you don't have a car, your options are limited; when you're poor your resources are thin. But for God's sake, raise your children! Love on them! Be the one voice in their lives that they know will listen. These are girls who lived in 5 foster care homes. The first home they lived in, the 'mom' beat them with belts (this was when Niyah was one and Washita was 5); so then they were separated and sent to other homes. Now Niyah (3) is kicking and screaming at her daycare teachers (I was told when I picked her up yesterday). These girls need a mom, and it breaks my heart for them.

I mentioned to Washita that I needed to leave and that I might need her to watch Niyah (M was home, but he was sick, and it wasn't fair to him to dump childcare on him, and Bill is out of town). She got really quiet and tears started to fall. In my country club neighborhood, she told me that once she had been watching Niyah and a man had tried to beat in the door. She, at 7, had maneuvered the sofa in front of the door and he was deterred. To say she's afraid of being alone doesn't begin to express it. I held her tight, and told her that she's never alone: she can always know that God is with her. Even while I wondered how this little girl could possibly be so alone. Clark tapped me on the shoulder and whispered "Could I give her my crucifix to remind her that she's never alone?" God bless that boy.

I called everyone I knew of LaQ's friends, but they didn't know where she was.

So when I realized I had unexpected babysitting duties staring me in the face, I wrote LaQ a letter and taped it to the door. I changed my plans....I had been going to take Clark to first confession, and then go out with a girlfriend to a movie. Scrap the movie. I piled the girls in the car with Clark, and down to church we headed. When we went in, Clark said,"Mom, I think you're supposed to leave" (Guess he didn't want me around when he did his confessing! :-)) I replied, "Yeah, I know. But I need to pray". So Niyah, Washita, and I knelt in the pew, and I prayed silently that Mary would be their mother. That she would take their interests to heart in a way their own mother didn't. I led them to the front of the church and Niyah pushed a dollar in the slot while Washita lit a candle. They both fell to their little knees (and they've never been in a Catholic church before, maybe never in a church, period). We prayed that Jesus would help their mommy be a good mommy, and help them grow up to be good girls. That he would always be with them and that they would always know that someone loves them.

Clark finished his first confession soon thereafter (seemed like an awful short time to confess a lifetime of sins, but hey...he's only 13!) He said his Hail Marys and seemed happy to have faced himself honestly. He told me on the way home that he liked going to confession, and that he didn't want to go the the jolly priest (whose confessions are much 'easier') -- he liked that the more formal priest he went to agreed that his sins were wrong, but he gave him some penances and some ideas of how to move beyond his sin to living better. He took everything the priest said to heart. What a guileless boy he is.

LaQ called. She had gotten home, and gotten my note. She was ashamed of leaving me in a lurch. I told her that I loved her, and wanted her girls and her in my home. BUT I was only the taxi, the cook, the landlord ... she is the mother, and needs to step up to her responsibilities to be a mother. When we got home, I didn't corner her or try to talk more; I just got M off the sick bed, and got Clark, and bundled up my two boys for a night at the movies. They needed their mom, too.

On your confirmation

Dear Clark,
As I think of you reading this letter on the occasion of your confirmation retreat, there are so many things I feel the need to say; and yet maybe I don’t need to say anything -- parents often do way too much talking, and kids really rather be listened to anyway! What might be better is to suggest some questions that you yourself might spend time now, and over your lifetime, answering.

Who am I? What is true? What is my relationship to God, really? How well does my experience square with my beliefs? What am I to do in my life?

As you take this big step in your faith journey, I hope you’ll find some answers to those questions. But the process of finding answers is a lifelong process, and Confirmation is just the beginning. As you know, I’ve wrestled with these and other questions and it led me to the Catholic Church! Your journey of faith has brought you here as well. I’m glad of that, even if a bit surprised, given your initial resistance to the idea! :-) But what I’m most pleased about is that you’ve made your faith journey on your own. Don’t be afraid to ask questions of yourself and God. Jacob wrestled with God, we’re told, and through that experience received God’s blessing. You have a smart mind; you’re a deep thinker; and you have a tender heart. God has great things in store for you.

I have such an appreciation for you, Clark. You’ve always occupied a special place in my heart, you know -- my baby! Confirmation is a good time to tell you how special and dear you are. You occupy a unique spot in our family. Most of the rest of us are loud and extroverted and brash; you remind us of the value of quietness and depth and sensitivity. You remind us that God is close to the meek and the lowly -- because I know you often feel like you’re the lowly one, on account of your birth order and of being sometimes misunderstood by those who are different from you in many ways. You remind us that we are a family, not by virtue of all being alike, but by virtue of us sharing our lives and our love with one another, regardless of differences.

I have many hopes for you as well. In fact, one of the first (maybe the first) prayers I asked of the Virgin Mary was on your behalf. I hope you’ll be a man of prayer and contemplation. I hope you’ll be a man of tenderness and strength of character and compassion -- that is to say, a good man. I hope you will learn to forgive others. I’ll never forget that discussion you and I had going to the apple orchard and back several years ago. I remember the conversation itself being an answer to prayer, but even more I remember the awe I felt at catching a glimpse of your heart of hearts. I pray you’ll keep your heart open to the world, and that you won’t hide it protectively away. You have a good heart that can bless the world.

As you consecrate yourself to God in Confirmation I pray God’s blessings on you in all your endeavors. I pray you’ll continue growing in your faith, through the sacraments, through doing good, through prayer. When you falter in your faith, when you encounter doubts, when you fail to do what’s right -- -- I hope you’ll be honest with yourself and with God, and that you’ll seek to talk to me or others you trust. We all do encounter doubts, and we all fail to live up to our ideals. It may be hard for you (as you tend to go inside yourself) but faith is a community affair. We all need each other! That’s why Jesus founded a Church -- because we gain so much spiritually from relationship with one another. You have your family, you have the saints, you have a brotherhood of other Christians to support you and encourage you along the way. And you, Clark, have so much to offer the rest of us!

Peace, joy, and blessings to you, dear!
I love you,
Mom

observations on being black, single and poor

LaQuinta has moved in with us, with her two daughters. Long story, but she's here for a few weeks and we're now home to little children again (hers are 8 and 3). So here's my observations so far:

- French toast is something served at Burger King, eaten with fingers and dipped into syrup. As actual French bread, sliced and dipped in batter and sauteed in butter until the edges are crispy...it is unrecognized.
- All men are daddies. The concept of husband is unknown to the girls.
- Breakfast is a meal eaten at school. The conception of sitting together in the morning around a table (and getting up in time to do it) is new.
-DSS is demeaning to the people it purports to 'serve'. The runaround and bureaucracy is mind-numbing.
-People suspect black people. Immediately. And this is from decent people who wouldn't want to hurt someone's feelings. But insulting comments and looks are de rigeur. I've seen it with my own eyes and heard it with my own ears. And I'm sure I've done the same thing....I'm sure now, having seen these situations as part of daily life, I could look back on my own comments and see how they might fit into the box of "insulting things white rich people would say."
- Black people and white people have funerals differently. We laughed hysterically the other night at dinner over the differences.
- If I had been similarly victimized, I'd be angry too.
-LaQ filters everything from an economic viewpoint. For instance, she spanked her daughter for wetting the bed. When I shared with her that I had a bedwetter and maybe we could just instead try waking her up (alternatives to spanking!) she replied, "but in my little apartment, I can't be having a bedwetter. There isn't room when you share a bed for someone to be wetting it. so I have to spank her to make sure she doesn't do that." Faulty conclusion, but I can see the desperation for a solution. When my child wet the bed, all it affected was himself, as no one shares a bed...
-Heathy eating really isn't an option when you're poor, unless you're a farmer or something. Bad food = cheap food.
-The very support systems and social services that are supposed to help those in need are really golden handcuffs. Yes, they provide assistance, but the price of dependence might not be worth it. Getting to a point of view where you could be SUCCESSFUL is almost antithetical to living with government assistance. It's hard for us to help her grasp a vision for herself that goes beyond government provided child care, living in subsidized housing, and eating what food stamps pay for. Our world is a whole 'nuther world to her. As much as these systems do help those in need, they perpetuate assumptions about oneself that are dismally opposed to human freedom and potential.

Child of my heart

Dear Grayson,
I’m down at the beach and have a little time away from everything, and of course my thoughts are turning to you as you prepare to leave, and as we prepare for your departure. I have so many emotions surrounding it, I’m not sure I can sort them all out. But I’m going to give it a stab.
Mothers love their children in different ways, and appreciate various things about each one. So while I love all four of my children beyond telling, I love each particularly, in his or her own special way. It is like each child occupies a particular place in my heart, even while they all share my whole heart. I could say to each one, “You are the child of my heart” and it would be true. And yet, I can say to you, in your own way, “YOU are the child of my heart, Grayson.” In the day-in, day-out business of life, I don’t sit you down and tell you that. Our lives, with their dance of crossing paths, aren’t always conducive to sharing our hearts. But hardly a day goes by that I don’t look at the young man you’re becoming and think that very thought, “You are the child of my heart.”
When all your accidents have happened -- the train near-miss, the car hitting you, the skateboard accident, the car rolling on the interstate, and more than a few other less dramatic incidents -- I’ve been slapped in the face with my love for you. That particular place in my heart that only you occupy has risen up and cried for expression, out of fear for your safety, out of desperate hope, out of boundless affection. It’s that same place in my heart that has been stirring in these last few weeks as I think about letting you go to the other side of the world. All those raw emotions have been bubbling around my heart: fear for your safety, pride in your competence in taking on such an adventure, hope for your future, affection that knows how hard on me it will be when you’re gone, anticipation (and occasional apprehension) of what you’ll encounter, a hint of regret that I haven’t been a good enough mother to you, or that I’ve wasted opportunities with you that I’ll never recover. Your imminent departure has brought to the forefront the recognition that you. are. grown up. Your childhood is quickly receding; maybe it receded long ago and I am just now coming to grips with it. But there’s nothing like sending your child across the globe to remind you that a new phase is beginning! And so my heart, full of love for you, squirms a bit as it recognizes a new phase of relationship.
You have always had a way of reaching out and touching me. As a little boy, I couldn’t look at you without feeling such a sweet affection for you. You had so much energy and activity and creativity, and yet you were sweet and trusting and vulnerable. I don’t think I realized until it was almost too late the cracks in your relationship with your dad. I wish in retrospect that I had acted sooner, that I had confronted him with more strength, or that I had protected you with more tenderness. But I felt at the time at a loss to know what to do to make it all better. I knew he loved you dearly, and yet I watched as the misunderstandings and disappointments hardened into rifts. I can honestly say I did the best I could at the time, but I’ll always wish I could have done more. Thankfully, especially in the past two years or so, your dad has found healing for some of the evils that were done against him from his childhood, and he’s becoming the father I always had faith he could become. He loves you more than he’ll ever be able to adequately express to you. I hope you’ll be able to forgive us both for the hurts incurred in past years, for the failures, for the ways we brought sadness to into your sweet soul.
Everything in these past eighteen years has gone into who you are now. You delight me in so many ways. For all your bluster and swagger, you have such a tender heart. Remember that time when Sarah’s parents were fighting, and she called you? We drove over there and got her out of the house. That was one of those times that I stood back in amazement at you. You wanted so much to protect her and help her, and I’ve always admired that combination of strength and tenderness you have. I also love how charitable you are toward others: I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say an unkind thing about anyone, ever; no snide remarks, no cutting comments. (Well, maybe Ms. Howard the math teacher, but I didn’t much like her either!) I am going to miss your presence around the house, especially when I think of those great qualities, and your beautiful smile, and the handsome lines of your face.
As you go out in the world, quite literally, I hope you’ll go with God. I feel reticent to say much in that regard, for fear of putting you off -- after all, not too many eighteen year olds want to hear their moms start talking religion, just as they are departing to start their own adult lives! I know my spiritual journey has been somewhat foreign to you, and I’m not sure what you’ve made of it. As I’ve experienced God for myself, I’ve not wanted to force anything down your throat, so perhaps I’ve erred on the side of leaving that topic out of discussion with you. But you were given to God in baptism, and I have faith that he will be with you all the way. I imagine in your brushes with death you’ve had opportunity to ponder God’s presence in your life...I know I have. I wish for you, and pray for you, that you’ll find God to be a real presence in your life, not just some theological concept, or some ancient relic, or worse yet, an irrelevancy. We miss God daily; he is there in all our moments, but rarely do we recognize him in them (often until some big event or tragedy). I have every faith that you’ll learn to recognize God more and more, and you’ll increasingly orient your life toward him. I expect there will be ups and downs, but I’m confident of the basic trajectory.
Enjoy your time in Australia! Take pictures, at least in your mind. Remember or write down stories of things that happen so you can tell me all about it. Be curious and learn new things. Explore places I’ve only seen pictures of. (It is so weird to know that so much will happen to you in the coming months that I have no part in. I guess that’s just like any child going away to college or whatever...it seems stranger somehow, since it is a whole world away!) I don’t want to diminish any of my optimistic advice by saying: Be careful! My apprehensions for your safety are many! I’m trying not to dwell on them, but they are there, urging me to strap a helmet on you. For life. Please dear Grayson, I couldn’t bear something happening to you so far away. Life is so fragile, and yours is so inexpressibly precious to me. Protect it.
Please keep in touch with us. Let us know you arrive safely, both by phone and by e-mail if possible, and keep us informed about your whereabouts. Maybe I’ll figure out how to do instant messenger (if you get an internet connection), or you can always post on Mackenzie’s facebook and I’ll see it. Keep ID on you all the time; the world is a bit crazy with terrorists and tsunamis, you know. That’s all the maternal advice I can stand, and probably more than you wanted!
Just know that I love you. You’ll probably have to be a parent yourself before you can understand just how much; maybe down the road when you’re holding your own little child, you’ll remember what I’m saying to you now about this sea of emotions, and you’ll realize, “Ah, this is what mom meant!”

Heartfelt thanksgiving

I love the 'year-end review' that Thanksgiving affords me, and this year is particularly sweet.
- Today is my 23rd anniversary. In May of this year, we were talking about separation. (Actually we weren't talking a whole lot, as we could barely stomach speaking to each other for almost 2 months.) We had exhausted counseling; we were out of grin-&-bear-it; nothing was changing, and we were holding together solely for the sake of our dd's graduation cruise the first of June -- we were going to make it through that and then spend the summer figuring out how people separate. Something happened on that cruise...our hearts were softened (I assure you it was miraculous). We walked through the soul-ripping place of giving up hope, and found hope on the other side of it. My marriage today is completely different from the marriage it was for 22.5 years...we live every day like 2 people who have been to the edge of the cliff and are clinging to each other other to keep from falling, part desperation and part beauty and completely alive. It is something to be thankful for.
- Grayson is alive and whole. Enough happens to him to make a mother's heart quake, and this year's skateboard accident and interstate accident again reminded me how precious each day with him is. It helps make the car accident (#2, with my car), the drinking incident, the secret party incident, and all instances of teenage ingratitude take on less importance in the big scheme of things.
- My soul has life. My conversion at Easter brought me to a place of rest after years and years of restlessness. Sharing this path with my Bill is icing on the cake. The silent retreat this summer helped me come to grips with God, to apprehend God even if I don't comprehend God. There are one or two things that I finally 'get' after a lifetime of just assenting belief.
- My new home. It is a fresh start, without the burdensome sad memories, mostly marital, that the other house held for us. It's got a ways to go before I feel like it will completely be Home; but that is OK -- there's energy between the two of us to make that happen together.
- Chelly seems to have grown up, to have grown into her skin, and to be thriving at college. With her emotional history, with her diagnosis... this makes me so happy. She's here this weekend, and I just can't get enough of her, warts and all.

Those are the biggies, I suppose.

As for Thanksgiving Day, it offered up its own reasons to be thankful:
- My mom behaved. No judgemental observations, no woe-is-me- my-daughter-is-a-papist interactions, no uncomfortable silences, no how-you-should-raise-your-children comments.
- Mack being thankful that he is really, really ridiculously good looking (think Zoolander). My mom not getting the movie reference/joke and giving him a mini-lecture on pride, which did not derail him at all... he just looked at her and disarmingly winked, "But you think it's true, don't you?"
-going with Bill to Walk the Line, and seeing some parallels with my him to the Man in Black.
- Reading last night with Clark. He is hard to connect with; he withdraws into his own interior world and won't let anyone in. He completely resisted my invitation to read with him, coldly clutching the opposite edge of the bed from me as I started, "Once there were four children named Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy...". Narnia sucked him in.
- conversation with Clark:
ME: One of the things I love about you is that you are a deep thinker. You won't share your deep thoughts with me, but I know they are there. I don't know what they are, but I think you're almost always thinking of them.
HIM: Pretty much everything in the world.
ME: Anytime you feel like it, your daddy and I would love for you to let us in on some of those thoughts.
HIM: You mean like about mirrors?
ME: Yeah, like about mirrors. (Having absolutely no idea what mirrors had to do with anything).
(long, long pause)
HIM: I wonder how they work.
ME: You mean, like, how they take ordinary glass and coat the back of it with reflective stuff?
HIM: No, like ... Do you ever wonder if mirrors are really like windows into a parallel dimension, where everything that happens there is just like what happens here, except it's backwards?

Not quite moving

We've been living out of boxes for weeks. Our moving date has now been delayed until next Friday, which actually gives us time to get stuff done to the house before we move in to it. We've closed on it, so it just remains to get it in move-in condition. Carpet cleaners, floor refinishers, painter, electrician, invisible fencers, landscapers, deck builder...I think that's it. Anyway, quite a chore, but it will be nice to finally unpack there.

I went to Mass on Saturday night last night, so Sunday morning will be free for me. We've rarely done the Saturday option, but today Bill is training this morning, biking and running for a few hours with his teammates. I think I'll just do ordinary things: paperwork, grocery shopping, laundry. It is amazing how those ordinary things fall by the wayside when the house is overturned. I think of the hurricane victims, and imagine how grateful they'd be to just be able to do normal things. The messages I get in the media are that adrenaline is better, that new adventures are the best adventures. But when life gets topsy turvy, I'm reminded how blessed one is to live an ordinary life. Right now, commonplace sounds good.

That point reminds me of a questionnaire I was given last week. I'm trying to lose weight, and so I went to L A Weight Loss. One of the questions was "Do you eat when you're bored?" To which I replied: I'm never bored. I cannot remember feeling bored. The weight counselor looked at me uncomprehendingly. "I mean, I can't answer whether I eat when I'm bored because I'm never bored." She blinked. "Just answer 'No'."

Weight. There's one we could write an essay about. I'm not genetically large. But in college, I gained weight one summer (up to 140) and immediately went on caffeine pills and lost it. After that my weight was pretty constant (120-125 and a size 6) until I had children. Each child added 5 permanent pounds. So in the end of it, my 'normal' weight was 140-145. Livable, I considered it. But about 7-8 years ago, weight started creeping up on me. In one year I think I gained 10 lbs. I tried losing it (down to 140), and managed to do that. That's when I had my hysterectomy/tummy tuck. So I got rid of the childbirth belly, and a few worn-out organs, but did I lose weight? Nooooo. Recovering from a hysterectomy is hard, no matter what anyone says. It was a year before I felt normal again. But in that year, and in the subsequent one or two, I've packed on pounds. Thankfully, I can say I carry it pretty well. When you have atummy tuck, and have fat cells permanently removed, the up side is a flat stomach. But the down side is that if you put on weight, it no longer goes to your tummy but it does go everywhere else you have fat cells...thighs, butt, etc. It isn't a pretty sight. Now I'm up to 170, and can no longer say that I carry AN EXTRA 40 POUNDS gracefully! Who am I kidding? If I could get to 130 I think I'd feel great and look much younger. So I'm reduced to 2 proteins, 3 starches, 4 veggies, 3 fruit, 1 fat, 1 dairy, and 3 condiments per day. For the record, THAT ISN'T MUCH FOOD! I'm cutting portions in half, making lots of conscious food choices, weighing whether I can 'afford' that creamer in my coffee, etc. It's insane. But hopefully, I can get there. That would be nice.

Spiritual Retreat

I decided to post on my July spiritual retreat here on my blog. The post below was written in late July. My REAL life today is posted below it. I think I will add a few retreat observations here, over time.

The thought of posting everything about my retreat is overwhelming...and I don't know I'd be able to communicate it effectively anyway. But in order to take a stab at it, I'll just start with the experience of taking a retreat; and then, as I process it more and more, I'll add some of the content of what I gained from it.

I went on an 8 day directed retreat. What that means it that you are assigned a spiritual director who advises you, listens to you, offers ideas for you to meditate upon, suggests scripture that might be meaningful, offers support for the journey. Many people (at least in Catholic practice, perhaps in other faith groups) utilize a spiritual director or confessor as a necessary component of their walk of faith. I think that since seeing the benefit for myself, I'll probably ask my priest about a local director. I have a feeling it is a bit like choosing a counselor, though.... some are a better fit than others.

My director was a grandfatherly Jesuit priest, whose theological leanings (if I had to put them on a continuum) were likely more liberal than my own. However, I'm so glad that I didn't let this color my opinions....I gained so much from him! He offered me points of view I really hadn't considered; he supported my observations; he kept me focused on the goal of it all; he made helpful suggestions.

I checked into the retreat facility on Sunday afternoon. We had a dinner together, then after the initial dinner, we didn't talk again until lunch 8 days later. Every day followed a predictable schedule:
8 - breakfast
9 - session with my spiritual director
12- lunch
5:15 - mass
6 - dinner

If I didn't want to go to any of these, that was fine...nothing was expected of me. But it gave my day a bit of structure. Beyond those events, how I spent my time was up to me entirely.

The food was homecooked and very good. The retreat facility was 'comfortably spartan'. Everything was clean and comfortable, but not more than I needed. In my room (my 'cell', as my friends and family joked) was a double bed, a desk and chair, a Bible, a crucifix, a luggage stand, a comfy chair, and 8 coat hangers. Thankfully I brought my cell phone, so I had an alarm clock...otherwise, I might have missed a meal!

The retreat house had our rooms, a chapel, a conference room, a very small library/book store, a dining room, and offices for the spiritual directors and staff. The grounds were lovely ... 20 acres of woods bordering the river. There was a picturesque waterfall in the stream, walking trails, and benches and 'personal decks' scattered around the property. There was also an outdoor meditation chapel on the top of the hill. And this in Atlanta...just stuck between residential homes. You'd have thought you were in the middle of nowhere.

I kept a journal each day of what I was learning, my questions, my observations on the experience. I described myself in there as "arriving at the beginning of a rainstorm, with few concrete expectations, and a handful of fears." My first morning I noted: "I awake this morning after a great night's sleep at 7:05. Immediately, thoughts push into my mind. I'm amazed at how -- in a place with no demands, no noise, no real schedule -- I can be so assaulted with planning my day, wondering what will be next, second guessing myself, ...conscious thought."

At the outset, they gave us some information about the value of silence. I quote: "Silence creates the climate of interior stillness in which God's voice can be heard. Abstaining from dialog with others unleashes the easy, spontaneous communication with God, which is prayer. Silence enables us to make contact with our innermost self and thus satisfy our anxious quest for self-identity, inner freedom, and self-determination. Silence enables us to marintain the balance between the outward and inward forces in our lives between action and prayer. Too much community depersonalizes; too much solitude leads to sterile loneliness. The therapeutic value of silence reveals itself in a deep and peaceful tranquility. Silence and speech are correlatives; they complement each other. Without periods of silence we can only babble."

I observed on that first day that I was being confronted with all my words that pile up, even in silence, as I think and write ... and I realize I'm not listening yet. It took awhile to get used to eating with people and not speaking to them....felt a bit like we were all characters out of "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" or something...silently shuffling around each other! By the end of the week, I was seeing so much value in the silence! One particular benefit that stood out to me was this: I could figure out myself without reference to the people around me; I didn't have to feel compelled to make small talk, to feign interest in the journey of another if it wasn't genuine. I observed toward the end of my week "One reason retreat is so nice is because there are no images -- no friend's faces, no celebrity magazines, no people in the news -- against which I can measure myself. The people here are strangers on a similar journey, about whom I know nothing, and silence forbids me getting to know. It has been refreshing to begin to learn who I am, NOT in regard to those around me, or what I do (for we all here DO nothing!)."

For more info about the retreat center I went to:
www.ignatiushouse.com

The picture is a painting I did earlier this year of Montserrat in Spain. St. Ignatius Loyola (the Jesuits' patron) gave up his former way of life after spending a night on Montserrat. I thought it was a providential symbol of God in my life. I have a chunk of rock from Montserrat, atop a chunk of rock from Ignatius House, on my desk now.