Home, Sweet Home

I arrived home from retreat on Thursday afternoon. After thinking I would write a profound blog post about all I felt and learned, I've decided that I will be mulling things over for too long and I'd like simply to post pictures and a few comments about my time away.

The schedule for the retreat

This was a silent retreat, but not an Ignatian one: the series of six talks were on the mysteries of the rosary, drawing fascinating parallels between them and bringing in a tremendous amount of Scripture, going back to the original Greek. I quite enjoyed the academic nature of the talks.

My 26 pages of notes from the priest's reflections

Walking the stations of the cross with sleeping Joseph

Godmommy and I spent hours upon hours walking the grounds each day, trying to keep Joseph with all his laughter, shrieks, and vocalizations out of the conference center so the silent women wouldn't be distracted.

The stormy day

The nearby creek

The footpath along the creek

Joseph's godmother and I did much coordinating. I would give the baby to her during the priest's talks, Mass, prayers, and holy hours. Then I'd take him back during some (but not all) of the quiet breaks in between because I didn't want to use up all the baby's good will about being left by his mama so often. During meal times, the deacon would read holy books to the silent women and I knew Joseph's babyish shrieks and exclamations of "down!" every time he threw food on the floor would be highly distracting, so Godmommy and I would eat with Joseph in another dining room by ourselves.

I have two favorite rosaries and this is one of them: It is made by little orphaned children in Uganda, many of whose parents died of AIDS or who have AIDS. The children string Job's tears into rosaries to sell for donations to earn money for their orphanage. I find praying on this modest rosary a wonderful meditation for me and my blessed life.

One day I sat under some trees and listened to the quiet. The cacophony in a homeschooling family's home can be overwhelming, despite one's constant and best efforts to teach children to refrain from incessant talking nor to yell and scream. So, I sat in the quiet and it was so quiet that I noticed a tiny gnawing sound that was moving about. Finally I figured out that there was a series of rodent tunnels right beneath the bench on which I was sitting and I was listening to a tiny rodent traveling along underground, chewing on something.

I am the loner who used to run my own business from home, so I'd make it a mental game to see how many days I could go without leaving the house or speaking to anyone on the phone . . . and it was quite common I'd go three days by myself without any human contact, which I enjoyed so much. And then on Saturdays, I'd regularly go backpacking by myself five miles into the mountains and five miles back out, so I really used to know what quiet sounded like.

Regularity, rhythm, quiet, solitude, very few surprises, a great amount of control over my own time . . . that was my life.

But now I am at a different station of life and Quiet is an old friend with whom I don't get to visit often anymore. Someday, life will probably be very quiet again and I will yearn for all this Noise and Life swirling about me as it is now.

I mistakenly did not pack enough warm clothing for the turn in the weather,
so here you can see Joseph wearing pajamas beneath his daytime outfit.

Godmommy and godson

Godmommy and godson on the porch of the retreat center

I will share in bullet point some of my take-aways:

• God will not speak through noise.
• I should not and cannot go this long without quiet reprieves to replenish my stores or I will be a harried, harpy of a mother merely white-knuckling it to get through my duties. And nobody wants that. So, I am brainstorming with Chris what might be some ways to have regular replenishment (e.g., perhaps a holy hour).
• I also need more moments of prayer in my day to fuel me along. But, as our godmommy (mother of seven) pointed out, "thinking you can get twenty minutes of time to yourself right now is not reasonable, you should be aiming for about two minutes." Yes, she 'gets it'! So, I sketched out my prayer life as it stands and am inserting a few prayers in the empty spots--but prayers that take seconds or a couple of minutes at most.

An exchange of love notes

I left behind a love note for each of the children for each day. Upon my return, in addition to some drawings, Mary had "written me back" on one of my notes to her. She wrote: "This is beautiful. I love it. Thank you, Mama."

The children were so happy in my absence, having a grand time with Daddy. I admit that my heart stung that they weren't crying for me: I don't think even the two-year-old cried once for me in three days! I continue to try to tell myself that they must be very secure in parental love to be comfortable in my absence. Surely, that's it!