A new compass

Last month, Haven and I along with my best friend Joy took a road trip up to the mountains of southern Oregon to participate in a contemplative retreat. This was my third year at the retreat and I love it for more reasons that I can name or for which I even have words, but generally I walk away feeling so revived, so deeply in touch with myself, with the world, with the spirit of god. Two years ago, I felt such a deep sense that I was okay, which is what I needed, and last year I left feeling so deeply connected to the little baby growing in my belly and the image of the labyrinth ended up being a sustaining and empowering image during the delivery of Haven.

I had thought I would walk away this year with some other profound sort of nugget of wisdom, some life-giving morsel that would enliven me and keep me going for the year to come.

But I did not.

From Road Trip to Oregon

It was a much different retreat for me this year – still good, but different. I’ve been trying to unravel it, figure out which morsels I can savor, what I can write about, what I can share, what life-giving nectar I can keep on sipping. But instead of large, meaty cuts of meat, I instead am picking the meat off the bone. It’s not that there isn’t meat or flavor, it’s just coming in much smaller pieces and with a lot of hard work.

The big difference was having Haven along for the journey this year, which was great and yet hard all at the same time. While I still had the morning silence to myself, the morning silence still involved getting Haven up and ready and out the door to the (very kind and wonderful!) babysitter in time for me to hear the Jubilate Deo of morning prayers AND figure out how to fit in a nap, a shower, pumping, some time to read/write/reflect/be still and, oh, maybe a nice walk, too. Before lunch. I found myself running up against the limits of motherhood that I’ve been bumping up against lately – the diminished flexibility and the growing responsibilities and the (seemingly) never ending to-do lists. I LOVE Haven and, honestly, don’t always mind these new aspects of parenthood, but I also miss some of the old life, and I missed some of the old retreat life too – being able to have long conversations, to eat my food slowly enjoying the company around me, taking a nap here, there and everywhere, going for walks, and having just about no responsibilities for the week.

From Road Trip to Oregon

And so this is why I haven’t written much about the week, because it sounds like I’m complaining about my daughter. I emailed one friend about my experience and he was kind enough to offer this response, which I think sums things up pretty well:

“the crazy thing is that we are hit with a baby suddenly but we don't suddenly forget what life was like without one. and we are so totally overwhelmed with feelings of love and loyalty and yet we find ourselves in an odd place of loneliness and disorientation because our compass from the life before no longer works but we have become so good at reading it to help us navigate life.”

I’m looking for a new compass and the retreat was more of the re-orientation that I’m in the midst of at this point in my life. Sometimes it sucks. Sometimes it is downright beautiful.

I do not regret the retreat – I’m so grateful to have had a week of having the mornings to myself, for having a week with my dear friends Joy and Colleen, for having a week with people who loved on and adored Haven (particularly the Aunties), for having a week in one of the most beautiful places I’ve visited, to have wonderful conversations, to meet new people and see familiar faces again, to have the space (albeit a little less space than before) to learn more about myself and to foster a spirit of compassion, and to learn once again that god is present to me even in the midst of finding a new compass – these, and more, are things I treasure.

To Oregon. To grace.

From Road Trip to Oregon