The Real World

These posts are all out of order now girls!  I have so many drafts I never published.  This may be my favorite newly found post so far.  Enjoy!

Written July 14, 2014

    At this time last week, I was in residence at San Damiano, a retreat center near Winchester, VA.  I was one of nineteen women on an Ignatian silent retreat.  For five days, we focused our attention on the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius of Loyola.  Our fearless leader, Father Buckley, gave us our schedules one event at a time, led us in prayer, prepared us for all of our meditations and celebrated the sacraments.  Ten years ago, I did this same retreat seven months pregnant with sweet baby Grace.  I remember preparing for the General Confession for hours, taking many rosary walks (slowly) and trying hard to stay focused on every single meditation.  When I signed up again, I thought I had forgotten everything from that first experience.  I was wrong.  I remembered little things.  The routine.  The familiar prayers every time we met with Father Buckley.  The Latin Mass.  The Amina Christi.  The central theme of detaching from creatures.  I remembered reading from the lives of the saints at every meal and loving the silence.
     To say I got a lot out of the retreat this time around would not be saying enough.  It was everything.  It reminded me of what is important, huge and, in fact, life changing.  I love Jesus and that is the central fact of my life.  But I forget.  When I'm on retreat, I want to shout my love for Him from the rooftops.  When I'm in my house, I am sleepy and take a nap.  That is the reality of a fallen soul.  Still, my savior loves me.  He takes me where I am today because He knows where my heart longs to be.
    On the last day of our retreat, we had a celebratory lunch and heard from the Franciscan priest who directs the retreat center.  He told us that a woman whom he had directed in retreat had said to him at its end, "Well, now it's back to the real world."  He responded, "I like to think of this as the real world."
     Last week, I heard birds calling, one to the other.  I walked in the woods.  I heard only the sounds of foot steps and bells at the consecration.  I didn't hear my iPod, cars honking or my kids arguing.  Wouldn't it be nice if Father were right and THIS were the real world?
    One of the best parts of the retreat was that my mom was on it with me.  I love my mom.  She was my first catechist.  My dad picked both of us up when the retreat ended Saturday afternoon.  The plan was for them to drive me two hours to meet Chris in Cumberland.
     Twenty minutes outside of Winchester, traffic came to a full stop.  We sat on the highway for awhile before Mom and I agreed that a bathroom stop would be needed in the near future and we should walk to the closest exit.  When we set out, we didn't know exactly how far that would be.  It was three miles!  Talk about a rude re-entry to the "real world"!  My mom and I are good and experienced walkers but it was very hot and, though I had grabbed my phone and ten dollars, I had forgotten to bring water.  My mom talked to everyone we passed.  Really.  Every One.  Very few people knew why we were stopped but one young man told us there had been an accident with a fatality.  Everyone was friendly and expressed a sense of resignation.  "What can we do?"  I saw people walking pets, napping in their cars, filing nails and chatting with those in neighboring cars.  It was as if an instant community had formed of "those trapped on 81 on a Saturday afternoon".  We eventually found out that a small white car heading south had crossed over onto the northbound lanes and hit an SUV head-on.  Two people died at the scene.
     When my mom and I finally neared the exit, we found we could not walk past the scene of the accident.   A policeman kindly helped us cross the southbound side of 81.  There, we encountered a fence but also, many people ready to assist us.  Two men stepped on a broken part of the metal fence and held up the barbed wire as we walked underneath it.  One woman, a nurse's assistant, offered to help my mom walk over to Target.  My mom, who is a feisty, youthful thing declined the help but--wasn't it nice that the girl offered?  Mom and I ended our adventure with a cold drink at Target's cafe and I doubt I will ever remember a walk as fondly*.
    So, in the end, I have to disagree with the padre who runs San Damiano.  Yes--I found the real world there because I found the real WORD,  Jesus, my savior.  But the world I encountered when I left was real too.  Broken, imperfect and full of tragedy but with so many kind people who want to help and who offer what they can.  We truly are all in this together.
    My parents and I prayed for those who lost their lives on Saturday.  It was a sobering reminder.  Be prepared always.  You know not the day nor the hour.

Soul of Christ, sanctify me.  Body of Christ, save me.
 
And YOU.

*"And I doubt I will ever remember a walk as fondly".  But--I had forgotten all about this until I found the draft of this post!  

The back up on 81 North--3 hours worth!

Rosary trail at San Damiano

Chapel at San Damiano