Silently Retreating

A few months ago my mom asked me to attend a mother/daughter retreat near my hometown of Franklin, PA. I figured what the heck. I’m entering a new phase of my life and I’m willing to go out a limb and try something new. For a short time this past weekend I wanted to curse this new-found adventuresome spirit, but more about that later. Anyway, my mom has supported me through the divorce process and I know it hasn’t been easy so I thought I would do this for her. It’s only a weekend, right?

Well, a weekend can feel like a hundred years when someone drops a bombshell. My mom and I arrived at the retreat center, St. Thomas More House of Prayer to be specific, just in time for dinner. Fridays during Lent are always tricky for me. It's the issue of not eating meat. It’s not that I am the ultimate carnivore, but I am certainly not into fish or other seafood. I made her promise to take me to McDonalds if dinner was horrible. Over some kind of bread crumb crusted ocean/sea creature and vegetables someone dropped the bombshell - this was a silent retreat. SILENT retreat!!! You cannot be serious. I looked at my mother in horror. "How could you do this to me?" Either she’s an Oscar-worthy actress or she was surprised as well.

The weekend in and of itself was interesting. The facility was absolutely gorgeous, as you’ll see below. A young priest from Illinois gave five lectures on various topics over the course of the weekend. And naturally prayers and mass were said frequently. However, from Friday evening until Sunday around noon, there was to be no talking in the common areas of the center. I’m not even sure we were supposed to be talking in our rooms, but my mom and I did (go ahead, report me).

My first thought on Friday was, “I need to get out of here” and even made a few phone calls hoping to execute my hastily hatched escape plan, but that fell through when my dad told me to “have fun” and that he’d see us on Sunday. As I found out later my brother had all kinds of fun posting on my Facebook wall and his about my weekend of silence. Anyway, I realized that there was no escaping so I started a countdown and grudgingly resigned myself to a quiet weekend in the middle of nowhere. Skipping evening prayer and some other activity (as if to prove a point, but to whom I'll never know), I holed up in our room and read my textbook. If nothing else I was determined to get some studying done.

Saturday morning I woke up no more happy about spending a weekend in silence, but knowing it would be over in just a little over 24 hours. After a rather lean breakfast of cold cereal and fruit (I so wanted bacon and eggs) we spent a long day in silence, lecture, silence, group prayer, and more silence. I spent my quiet time taking pictures of the center. I also managed a mid-afternoon nap. Doing nothing is utterly exhausting.

Finally the sun set on Day 2. I woke up Sunday with excitement I haven’t felt in quite some time – liken it being a 5 year old child on Christmas morning, knowing that Santa made his annual visit AND that he left you anything and everything you ever wanted. Lunch wasn’t served until noon so I still had the morning to be silent, but with each passing minute I was that much closer. Finally the clock's big and little hands met at 12 and just like that the retreat was over. It was time to go home. I sprinted to the car with my bag and pillow and practically shoved my mom into the driver’s seat. We were homebound. After picking up my car, I sang at the top of my lungs all the way back to Pittsburgh. It was so good to hear my voice again.

Now, you might be surprised to know that I actually got something out of the silent retreat. I’m not sure how or when it happened, but it occurred to me that perhaps I did because on my way home I stopped at Hughes Ice Cream Parlor in Harrisville for the most delicious chocolate shake ever. The thought crossed my mind to see if they had any pumpkin ice cream (Kevin’s favorite flavor). I was fairly certain there would be no pumpkin, but I made a deal that IF they had it, I would buy it.

Not as a peace offering; I haven’t done anything wrong. Not as a bribe; there is nothing I want that ice cream will buy. Not for any reason other than I would do the same for any of my friends. If I had a friend who loved Hughes pumpkin ice cream, I would buy it for them just because I could. I checked the cooler. . .meaning I pulled out every single container of ice cream and found ONE pumpkin left. ONE carton of pumpkin in the whole case. I thought, “this can’t be. It’s March. Why is there any pumpkin left in the first place, and only one carton as well? What are the odds?" As I stood there looking in disbelief at the carton I willed it to just disintegrate so that I wouldn’t have to follow through. But, sadly, that pesky carton didn’t go away. In fact, it’s now in my freezer. I don’t know when I’ll give it to him. I suppose I should. Wasting ice cream is a sin after all.

Somewhere between silent retreats and pumpkin ice cream I’ve decided to hand this over to a higher power. While I fight like hell for my kids, I won’t be doing it alone. And, knowing it’s out of my hands in many ways, I’m going to trust that no matter how it goes, Sarah and Emmy will be just fine on the other side.

. . .and as promised, here are a few pictures: