Romantic and Spiritual - a great retreat

This week Elaine and I went on a much needed retreat together. We dropped the kids off at Grandma Carmack's and made our way to Mendon Country Inn.  The first year we were married we spent a Christmas Eve there on our way to Elaine's family get together. Our heating core was plugged and half way there the little electric heater, plugged into the lighter, went out.  By the time we got there our feet were blocks of ice and the fireplace and Jacuzzi in our room was a welcome experience. We loved our stay and the South African innkeepers were charming.

A little over eight years latter we had no idea where we had stayed, and it took some searching to find them. We got into the same room we were in years ago. Come to find out St. Gregory's Abby is only about twenty miles away. We went over there for communion, and I had a chance to show Elaine where I have spent my time when on my retreats there. We had pittance and a chat with the monks after the prayer service.

The weather was rainy and cold. We spent most of our time indoors, though the first night the weather broke, and we walked down by a creek flowing into the St. Joseph river.  The bed and breakfast had a little island with a gazebo surrounded by the flowing brook.  It was lovely to be in creation.

When driving we had some conversations about our frustrations in ministry and what it would take to breakthrough. Elaine and I serve as a tension between my realization of powerlessness and hers of action. The great question we have to live into is - how do we create space for people both in and out of the church to grow in the Spirit.

The innkeepers, Cheryl and Gerard, were wonderful at creating a hospitable space. The last morning we chatted over breakfast for a couple hours. It was a wonderful encouragement.  Hospitality is a wonderful thing.

There was another gran sorprendido.  Across the street there is a small mexican restaurant.  I could smell the hot tortillas. We decided to go there for dinner rather than an upscale option.  We didn't have great expectations - expecting a dive, but what we found was the best authentic mexican food I have had in years. Salud is the name of the place, and it made us wish we were going to be there for another week to sample everything.

Residency Day 5

Today I feel like my brain is full and I can’t learn any more. I need to take a break, or as Jerrell said to night, “I need some action…” then he added, “and then some time for reflection – praxis!” I feel like I need to get home and do something – bring hope to our abandoned downtown, find the poor to hang out with, get arrested for opposing injustice! Most important I want to get back to my wife and family and enjoy them. I love living in community with them and our desire to expand that community to others! Ella, Foster, Elaine, I am coming home soon, but not soon enough for my heart.

To relieve this tension, a bunch of my classmates and I went out again tonight. The conversation at the table was good, but the laughter in the packed car on the way home restores my soul!

Residency day 1

Today we arrived at Malvern Retreat Center. This place has some amazing sacred space. Turn a corner and you bump into a statue of a saint, as Mojo said. There is an Oratory in both the men and women’s wings. It is a prayer room, rather it is a room that upon entering you are immersed in prayer and must pray. The one on the women’s side has a vaulted ceiling painted in blue with stars. There is a chandelier/mobile in each that both mutes the light and brings the image of heaven. There are kneelers and marble floors. The men’s side evokes the image of the holy of holies. The doors are embossed in gold. Inside four golden pillars hold up a fiery canopy. Across the altar there is a tabernacle for the host. During the retreats put on by the center, the rooms are used for 15 minutes of adoration of the host by each retreating daily.

On the men’s side there is also a statue of Jesus featuring the imagery of his immaculate heart. I noticed this time that his heart is on fire. It is life sized on a pedestal. His left hand gestured to his heart. I could reach up and put my hand on his heart and his outstretched right hand was positioned just right to touch my forehead. It was so life like. I received his blessing; I put my hand around the back of his so to hold it to my head. I love you Jesus!

Tonight Mojo spoke about the road to Emmaus in preparation for communion. We repeated a collect as a refrain through out the service:

Lord Jesus stay with us,
for evening is at hand and the day is past;
be our companion in the way, kindle our hearts,
and awaken hope,
that we may know you as you are revealed in scripture
and the breaking of bread.
Grant this for the sake of your love. Amen.

He had us each take a stone to represent the burdens that accompanied us to the retreat. I thought of the financial burden that plagued Elaine and I as I left. She gave me fifty dollars, that was all we had. When we got to the hotel I had 15 left, and my heart sank as I approached the counter to swipe my card. With heavy heart I told her that I charged our bank account seventy dollars that wasn’t there.

As I approached I grabbed a sharp stone, one that as I pressed it in my hand hurt like the stinging sense of failure I harbored because of our financial situation as well as my weariness. As I looked at the stone it sparkled, it was composed of red and black specks. It was beautiful. “Uh Oh, I find my burden is beautiful, what does that mean.” As I listened to God I sensed his response. Your burden is painful as you clutch it in your hand, but when you release it to me it sparkles. I am strong in your weakness. You see my faithfulness through your troubles.

Espresso Excursion

On our recent trip to Petoskey, I made it a point to sample espresso from all the coffee shops I could find on the way.

Java Junction ***
West Branch, MI
Located on the railroad tracks, in a building that used to be a grain elevator, the interior has a quaint cafe feel. White pine mixed with rail and country artifacts. While the atmosphere wasn't what I look for in a coffeehouse, there were plenty of regulars there, of all ages. There was a lot of energy with the guests talking sports or politics, there was a real sense of community that was great to be around. I have concerns about their milk frothing technique, but each of the places I visited I had either a straight shot or an americano so I could comment on the espresso. The espresso here was sharp - a high acidity with a medium body.

Roast and Toast *****
Petoskey, MI
I made a point of stopping here as one of my Barista Exchange friends works there. With big blue neon signage, corrugated steel, and mosaics made of coffee cups, this place has a festive atmosphere to say the least, attracting a generally young, hip crowd. It was a happening place with a brisk trade throughout the afternoon. What really impressed me was that they integrated an extensive lunch and dinner menu with out diminishing their emphasis on coffee. The 'spro was good with a booming body and low acidity.

The Woolly Bugger ****
Charlevoix, MI
This shop in Charlevoix is a satellite of a Harbor Springs roastery. The shop is tiny with one table to sit at. There is an understated fly fishing theme. The run a Rancilio machine, and produce a great 'spro - excellent crema and a balanced flavor. I had a straight shot here. The shop is not geared to coffee-to-stay, and unfortunately my espresso came in a four oz. paper cup. We sat in tight quarters by a mom with two toddlers and had friendly conversation.

Truffles Bakery *
As we walked to the Woolly Bugger, I noticed the bakery next door also served espresso. I wondered how two espresso shops did next to each other, especially with the bakery and additional seating available in this shop. On our way back to our car I thought it would be nice to sample their espresso as well. As soon as I walked to the counter, I told my wife, "oops, lets go." There were red flags sent up that told me that I would not be happy with the espresso here. They had a Rancilio machine like the Wolly Bugger, but the portafilters were sitting cold on top of the machine. On our brisk way out the owner, an exceedingly nice man, asked me what we had come in for and I felt I had to acquiesce and try his stuff. Back at the counter I saw more red flags. He had a nylon tamp (probably came with the machine), at least he had one, but after admiring the tamp in the Woolly Bugger, my stomach twisted. Then he pulled out a Tupperware bowl covered with plastic wrap and scooped out a couple tablespoons of pre-ground espresso beans! I just wanted to pay and get out. He poured the espresso into a 16oz cup and charged me $2.30. He asked me if it was hot enough. I said, "Yes, it is plenty hot," not having the fortitude to tell him that it had no crema, tasted foul, and all things considered, ridiculously overpriced. My first sip, I thought I could handle it. It wasn't too unlike a drip coffee... second sip, I gagged and nearly threw up. The cup lasted all of a half a block to the nearest trash can.

Cross in the Woods

At the worlds largest crucifix. 55 ft high made from a redwood tree with a 7 ton crucifix.

rain falls like tears
from your great eyes
consolation
as big as a redwood
seven ton love

Day four on retreat, Feast of the beheading of John the Baptist

Today I slept too much. Yesterday I slept every chance I could get. I was feeling a little bad about it. But then the Prior fell asleep during meditation and was snoring loudly.

Father William woke him up after a few minutes. He later said that there is a story in the Benedictine tradition that told of a monk who fell asleep during church and instead of waking him up his superior put his head in his lap so he would sleep more comfortably.

“But,” said father William, “if a straight boy wakes up with his head in another man’s lap he’s not going to sleep well for a while.”

The schedule here must have worn me more than I realized. I couldn’t fall asleep easily last night. I laid in bed from 8:30 to about 10:30 thinking about the Psalm that said, “I lie down and sleep comes immediately” and silently gave God a hard time because that wasn’t the case.

This morning I got up for matins at four and afterwards went back to sleep. I set the alarm to wake me for lauds but I forgot to turn it on.

I slept hard. So hard it hurt. I had bad dreams: one each of Ella and Foster near death. I woke up to find I had missed Lauds, Terse and the Eucharist. The Eucharist!

Part of why I couldn’t get to sleep last night is that I was writing a monastic rule in my head for a pentecostal family order that would have eucharist seven times a day! I love the eucharist!

I said terse from my prayer book in my room and went down to the refectory (the dining hall) for pittance (coffee and cookies).

Father William saw me and said, “Someone made the baby Jesus cry this morning!”

“I cried my self when I realized it,” I replied. From then on the day progressed. My Canadian friends left for home. My love goes with them and my other fellow retreatants.

After dinner tonight I took a row boat out on the small lake. It was half serenity itself and half struggling through rotting peat.

Today was the feast of John the Baptist’s beheading. Happy decapitation! For lunch they broke out some meat! A delicious salmon, mashed potatoes and broccoli. Feast days are special.

Day one at St. Gregory’s Abby

I slept some as the train trundled over its tracks, swaying slightly, rocking me. When my eye lids spread apart, my gaze was captured by the mists that hung over the low hills. Young Dawn’s fingers streching out to gild them - making them shine in sacred twilight.

My mind was still cloudy, sleep was a forgotten lover and the day ahead a stranger. My mind all too readily remembered my true love left on the train platform, our children in her arms waving to me. I remember Foster’s body trembling like a leaf after a freight train roared by the waiting passengers, a bully taunting us with its icy wind.

“Daddy, I don’t want to ride on the train any more, All right?”

He couldn’t come this time anyway. This journey was for me alone. Just me and God - a solitary retreat. Do I really want to do this? I asked myself, thinking of home and family. No, I’d go home if I could, but I’m on my way.

A brother from the Abby met me at the train station. If my misapprehension frightened me on the train, his driving taught me to trust God completely.

Today I’ve prayed the hours with the monks. They chant so softly that I am amazed at the breath support required. Times in the chapel are peaceful, so wrought with the presence of the Holy that I shutter, like Foster before the might of the freight train.

The meals are simple an slight. We sit in silence listening to a reader regale us with the history of Hotels in America. That the monks would engage such an unrelated subject, reminded me what I had studied on the train, that Spiritual Direction is about finding God in all things.

After vespers and supper I hiked around the lake with my guitar and a book. I finally settled in the cemetery on a bench. I sang “This is my Father’s World” as wild turkeys and deer circled. As I was reading my book I heard a twig snap and turned to see a young deer looking at me. My face, the flash of my glasses, so startled it that it screamed and ran away. It actually screamed. It would then creep up on me, when it was within about 10 yards it would stare at me and scream repeatedly. It was like a barking dog. It was the strangest thing I have ever seen from a deer.

It is 9:30 and I am going to bed as soon as I pray compline. Matins are at 4:00am!