Witness to Withness

Time for Retreat

Amidst broken shards in mountain tall
A place for gathering a magnetic throng
Ballistic wandering amidst a familiar tryst
Could one compare such amazing bliss

Nothing is more important than knowing about a place to retreat and get ready for the next adventure. It is in the moment of retreat that we discover a true sense of vocation in a time of vacation.

         I went with family to my own brand of Camelot, the place that we knew as the farm. This was the place where I had my first real encounter with God, when I was lost in the woods behind the summer retreat called out for God and found my way home. It was a place where I knew God's rule, how could I not in the midst of my quest to recover my grail of inspiration. what made this trip special was the attendance of a good friend and former aspiring priest. This was significant because I still had my sights on wanting to be a pastor and trusted that this encounter might solidify my claim to my own sense of taking hold of a throne that in this case he vacated.

         The weather was idealistic and there was the usual good time to be had by all. There was time to go fishing, play tennis and go swimming whenever we wanted to do so. I found time to also go back into the woods in the back where I had cried out to God for help and had found it. It was an attempt to make clear my next steps that seemed only months away. I gazed up into the mountains and recalled the scripture asks the question: from where come my help. There was time to go to a Christian camp ground retreat center near the farm. There was the sounding of trumpets and the sense of revival that one can only know in a place of retreat.

         Just before I left I turned to a scripture in the book of Corinthians that talked about Paul being a fool for Christ's sake. They were words that stirred up a passion inside me. It was the first time I had spouted tears in over a year. I felt alive and ready for whatever lie ahead. I shared with my friend Eddie and whoever else would listen. I had found the sword in the Word of God with which I would do battle. Just like the story in which Arthur took hold of the Sword in the stone according to legend, I came to see that even though I had played the fool, there were greater things in store for me. All I needed to do was have faith.

         The person I knew as Uncle Eddie was not as sure. He repeated over and over that I was not a fool and did not need to talk about being one. I tried to share with him where my understanding of this came from. He seemed puzzled and perplexed. He had been the one to inspire other family members who went through trauma and turmoil. I especially recalled how he made a boat for my younger brother Craig when he was struggling with an illness. It symbolized for Craig and us that there was another place apart from his distress that he was headed. Eddie was not so sure about what I was asking for and would not give his blessing to my own perception of call. He listened with his big Saint Bernard eyes and did not seem to know what to say. It was many years ago that Eddie had decided that he would rather get married than follow through with his vocation to be a priest. As I look back the words that I quoted may have stung him, for life had been filled with challenges since he left that call.