Bits for Sunday, October 19, 2008

I told you last week I would fill you in on my time at my spiritual retreat during my vacation. Last year was the first time I ever went on such an adventure, having been prompted to do so by something I read in a book. It was such a pivotal experience for me that I wanted to do it again this year…and every year. There’s something about getting away from home, responsibilities, contact with the outside world…and settling down for a concentrated time with God.

I’ll admit this year I felt very underprepared for the retreat. Last year I spent about four months planning it – choosing a topic to study, purchasing a book to read, planning everything from my meals to events, and garnering a prayer team to back me up while I was gone. This year I grabbed a book off the shelf at the last minute, and as I began the drive to the hotel, I felt as though I had no idea what would happen and that somehow my lack of preparation would lead to disappointment in the way the retreat would unfold.

But of course – God wasn’t about to let it be that bad.

This year my retreat was at the Farmstead Inn, located up in Shipshewana. I’d stayed there before and knew it would be a good, quiet place to get away. Halfway to my destination (as I fervently prayed against detours, which were last year’s headache), I realized I’d taken a microwave dinner to eat, but I’d failed to pack any silverware. Last year I’d planned ahead enough that I remembered all those sorts of things. Last year I’d even packed chocolate covered strawberries. There’s a big gap between hand dipped strawberries and grabbing a chicken nugget microwave dinner at the final grocery store on the way out of town.

I arrived at the hotel detour-free (yay!) and checked in, still kicking myself about the silverware dilemma. I had resolved to locate a coffee stirrer somewhere on the premises and use it to stab the macaroni and kernels of corn. (Hardly makes me eligible for Survivor, but it does show some attempts at resourcefulness.) The lady at the desk handed me my room card and sent me on my merry way – down a lonnnnnnng corridor to the room at the farthest possible location from the front desk. Oh – and it was on the first floor. I walked in and looked around…and said “Well, God, last year I had a second floor room in view of the lobby, which made me feel very safe. I guess this year You think I’ve grown up enough to be in the far reaches of the universe with ground floor windows.” I’ve watched way too much CSI and SVU. I quoted the only Psalms I could remember about lying down and sleeping in peace, and headed back to the car for my stuff. (Incidentally, I made it entirely in one trip with the luggage…for those of you who accuse me of packing for a month for an overnight trip.)

Of course the first joy of any hotel room is investigating it, so I scampered about opening drawers, CLOSING blinds, and inspecting the gigantic garden whirlpool tub. When I poked around the kitchenette, I found answer to prayer number two: a plastic tray full of plastic silverware. Proof that God cares about even the littlest things. (Or maybe He just didn’t want to watch me stab macaroni with a coffee stirrer.)

I curled up on the couch and read in the book I’d pulled from the shelf – How to Really Love God as Your Father by Deborah Newman. After each chapter, I’d move over to the tiny table, spread out my journals and write all the things I’d just learned that I didn’t want to forget.

I found some great quotes along the way:

You know you are getting it when you don’t doubt the goodness of God. You are discovering the amazing depths of a relationship with God that allows you to cry out ‘Abba, Father,’ as Jesus did on that night of utter terror in His soul. – Deborah Newman

The great spiritual task facing me is to so fully trust that I belong to God that I can be free in the world – free to speak even when my actions are criticized, ridiculed, or considered useless; free also to receive love from people and to be grateful for all the signs of God’s presence in the world. I am convinced that I will be truly able to love the world when I fully believe that I am loved far beyond its boundaries. – Henri Nouwen

After several hours of reading and journaling, I took a break to have the fabulous frozen dinner – eaten in bed, of course, as should be the case when eating in a hotel. I filled up the ice bucket – another adventure of hotel life – trying to find that one mysterious cubbie that is never quite where the map on the back of the door says it will be found. I helped myself to not one, but two free cups of coffee from the lobby – because I could. And I took a swim (don’t even think I’m kidding) in that gigantic tub. There was also a bit of a mishap with the bubbles, but we won’t talk about that.

And when the day was over, I curled up in bed with my bag of popcorn and the remote control, flipping through all the familiar channels I watch at home. I stretched out in the big bed and slept soundly – first floor and all. And I didn’t even have any CSI dreams.

The next morning I could tell the sun (which had NOT made an appearance the previous day) was peeking through the blinds, so I scurried out of bed to open the east windows and lay in bed to watch a sunrise. (Once a year I can handle a sunrise.)

I was very pleased with the outcome of the retreat – despite my lack of planning. God proved to me that He (the Abba Father) can provide for His children even when they fail to plan well.