Am I really here?
All week we’ve gathered in the Great Hall, sunk in soft sofas or perched on chairs, and faced the fireplace.
And my heart burned with words and songs, and tears flowed, but they could not extinguish the flames.
Since Thursday, I’ve felt embraced by the canyon and living avatars.
This morning, Sunday, the room is turned around to face the glass wall, a window to rock that rises above the Frio.
The elements wait–icing on the cake of community we’ve shared.
Jeffrey reads from a piece by Buechner who talks about being good stewards of pain, and Gordon shares from his heart, and I’m so in tune I forget to take notes.
Steven invites us to share (I forget what order this all happened), and I raise my hand.
I want to tell of the gift and how being here is a gift and how my heart is so very full because of the gift, a gift delivered straight from the hand of God through a vessel of clay.
You see, I’d entered the “contest” to come and decided that if I “won,” I would take that as a sign that this was my season even in this time.
And when my name wasn’t drawn, I contented myself with the hope for next year.
But then came an email that an anonymous someone had given a gift, and God had written my name on it.
I want to articulate how my tied-up heart has been unwrapped, but I choke and snuffle, and my pretty words (and dignity) puddle on the floor.
I’m glad I’m in a place where there’s safety in unlocked rooms and hearts and strangled voices.
I know my life now is as turned around as this room.
Before we leave this place, I walk past the fountain, past word-bearing rocks, and down the steps to the dock.
And I remember:
Squeals and hugs here as the virtual morphed flesh, and the real became more real.
A white-billed duck, rock that showered water, and trailing fingers in the river from a kayak.
My room and gentle roommate, coyotes that sang, and a scorpion that didn’t sting (a photo fail.)
A hike up Circle Bluff, and how just when I thought I could not climb over one more rock, we reached the top and a magnificent view.
A room where I could play with paints and scraps and plunge my thumb in glue and create something flawed and beautiful.
A circle of poets biting into the round jubilance of word peaches.
A plate of brownies and friends who spoke of rhythms and rumors and writing while hummingbirds scuffled.
The crunch of red stone underfoot as I walk the path alone in early morning.
A late-night discussion about how to have an online funeral if something should happen to one of us. Just the thought of that tears a hole in my heart.
And red hibiscus tea-spotted white pants (don’t ask), trays laden with grapes and cheese, steaming mugs, fresh-baked bread, Asian soup with shredded coconut, and Laity Lodge Christmas cookies.
A vulture soars above, and I realize that something has died in me. But something else has taken root, and I feel its pulse.
Did I not ask Him to enlarge my territory?
How do I explain these things?
How do I explain what’s happening inside?
I try to wrap my heart around all of it, but I don’t think I can contain it.
It bulges like an overstuffed suitcase
I turn around to go, but I don’t leave.
Goosebumps. Again. So thankful to have been able to share these days with you.
Me too, Nancy. Loved getting to know you!
I was right there with you. Your words here took me right there. It was beautiful, wasn’t it?
(And…believe me…I tried to leave without saying this but I can’t help it: Go Spartans!)
Oh so beautiful. But missed you so. 🙁
Go Green!
Sandy, this takes my breath. Much I’ve yet to sort, but let me add my gratitude for the gift that got you there. It would not have been what it was with you still at home.
I mean that.
I still can’t believe we were there together! It all feels a bit like a dream.
How beautiful! I’m so thankful you were able to go, and I’m thankful for the one who made it possible and the One (who used that one) and made it possible.
I’m still overwhelmed by it all, Brandee. Still processing. Probably will be until next year. 🙂
wonderful!!!!
🙂
Lovely. You’ve got my heart in your word-cradle 🙂
(Great pictures of the Frio!
😀 And I’ve got you in my heart.
Sandy,
What a gift it was to meet you and hug on your person for a change! I will never forget this time at the lodge. How you became my indentured servant. 🙂 Seriously. As Marcus told us, the scorpions won’t kill you. Just make you really sick.
All kidding aside, meeting you was one of the highlights. Love to you, beautiful lady.
You are the Scorpion Queen, and I am your slave for life!
I so love your sweet and gracious spirit, Laura. I see Jesus in you.
Thanks for taking us there through your words and your heart.
Oh, Susan. How special it would be if you could come.
Oh Sandy – this makes me want to cry and laugh and hug you tight one more time. It was wonderful – such a precious gift.
Love how we were matched in Cedar Brake, Linda. I’m hugging you in my heart right now.
What a special time it must have been… your words are full of the wonder, the spillover of joy, the ache of deep emotions. I think you were in His presence there. I’m so glad you could go and have that experience.
His presence permeates that place, Carol. Really, there’s this something . . .
Sandy, wow! So thankful that you were chosen by God to receive this very special gift. May He continue to burn in your heart and draw you closer not only to His own, but also to hearts of this beautiful, creative, avatar-become-flesh writing family. You make my heart hungry to share in this grand adventure next year. 🙂
It’s in my plan for next year. I hope it’s in His. And I hope you are in that plan, too!
Sandy,
Thank you for allowing me to stow away. It sounds as if the retreat was as I’d imagined it might be–except way beyond my imagination.
I’m so glad you were there.
Next year, Sheila. Will you come?
It is my plan. Now we’ll just have to see if it’s His plan.
It’s my plan, too. Hope it’s His. For both of us.
I had no idea you were such a wonderful photographer! Maybe it helps that I know those images. Knowing you’re behind them makes them even more beautiful.
You are so sweet, Megan. What a joy to meet you there and spend time with you! So grateful for your Sunday morning confirmation, too. 🙂 xoxo
Oh Sandy! How beautiful are your words and the way you piece your pics together makes me feel such longing. How blessed are we? What a privilege to meet you and laugh with you. You are the pearl found here at Deep See Diving. Love you!
Blessed beyond measure, Pat! And how hysterical is it to have to go all the way to Texas to meet! Love you more!
p.s. can I steal the poetry group pic? What a great one =)
Absolutely! I wish we weren’t missing one–even a strand of hair or a foot or a hand . . .
Oh Sandy … You received a gift, and you ARE a gift. So glad that you were there. Meeting you was nothing short of amazing. Love you.
Still walking on water, my cross-eyed friend! Being there, meeting you and having it feel like we’d already met–my heart overflows.
How awesome for all of you, Sandy. Thank you for taking me there with these beautiful post.
It’s amazing to me how God can create a real family in an online environment–and then unite them in a place like LL. I’m so grateful.
I only have one thing to say. Wish I could have been there. What an experience! (Well, it was more than one thing…)
I only have one thing to say. Wish you could have been there! Come. Next year.
I am right there with you. Again. The emotions and the sights and sounds. And so much love.
So. Much. Love.
So thankful for the friend who sent you. Praying thankfulness over this nameless person. What a worthy investment. It is your season, Sandra. Loving your descriptions.
Still in awe, Carolyn, with the gift and in tracing back the years, the journey that brought me there.
Sandra, you were featured at the Laity Lodge website.
http://www.laitylodge.org/what-people-are-saying/reports-artist-writers-retreats-6703/
Wow. Thanks, Gordon.
This is so beautiful! The idea of an online funeral is interesting. I missed that discussion. So glad I met you…..
Kathy
Thanks, Kathy. So glad I met you, too. It’s really something, isn’t it, how tight online friends can become. So much so that we want to share each others’ daily sufferings and joys. And to be able to grieve and celebrate each others’ lives. This discussion encouraged me to be sure that my family knows my passwords and have directions to post for me if the time comes that I can’t.