This past weekend, I joined my new church on a retreat to the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains. I’d been looking forward to the lodge getaway for a few weeks.
A chance to connect with some new people in a more intentional setting.
A chance to bask in one of my favorite parts of the continent.
A chance to wander again.
So imagine my dismay when I woke up Friday morning with a scratchy throat. A scratchy throat that escalated to a headache and congestion and fatigue and probably a temperature two ticks above normal.
I felt like a slug all weekend at that lodge. Not even a nasty inchworm, but a comatose slug.
I was a little bitter.
I was a lot bitter, actually. Frustrated by the timing of my illness.
It was supposed to be a fun weekend of wandering and community. Instead, the lodge was turning into my own personal wooden hospital ward.
And then I considered how paradoxical I was making this whole weekend retreat sound.
True, I could’ve expended more energy had I been at my usual healthy capacity — physical and social energies alike. I could’ve gone on a hike with some people or even stayed up late talking or playing Mario Kart.
But I guess retreats meet everyone in different ways.
It’s hard for some people to rest, I realize. I’m not usually one of those people. My part-time tutoring/writing existence has gifted me lots of extra rest over the years. Save for two insane summer camps, I’ve rarely felt overworked since college.
In recent weeks, though, rest has been hard to find.
I’m waking up at 5am to write my next book.
I’m tutoring at a school for 6 hours every day.
I’m side-tutoring a couple evenings per week.
I’m maintaining this blog.
I’m writing for another blog.
And then I go home at 9pm and crash like a grandpa on Thanksgiving and do it again the next day.
Maybe I got sick last weekend because I’ve been working too hard lately. Or maybe the kids infected me with something; kids do that sometimes, God bless them.
But maybe the only reason I got sick when I did was so a weekend retreat in these magical Blue Ridge Mountains that have already healed me of so many wounds in summers past would replenish me all over again.
A chance to sleep.
A chance to catch up on some neglected reading.
A chance to sleep some more.
A chance to accept multiple rounds of tea when it’s handed me.
A chance to humbly be and not resist.
A chance to repeat. All weekend long.
When’s the last time you took a retreat, either by yourself or with a group? Are you the type of person who needs to force yourself to rest? Are you overdue?
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