Manresa Weekend

There I was standing by the street, duffel bag at the ready, and my ride no where in sight. I thought I had heard correctly, that I would be picked up at 4:30 PM on Friday, but my ride was no where to be seen. I must have got it wrong, and was to have met them someplace else. I had been waiting for this week end for almost a year, and now I was going to miss it. How could I have been so stupid? Just as I was trying to decide which tree to bang my head against, a car came around the corner, and my ride had arrived. One of the guys had a flat tire a block from the driver’s house, and that is why they were late. Because of this, I knew, I would value the weekend all the more.

This is the fourth year I have spent the first weekend of Lent on retreat at Manresa House, a retreat house run by the Jesuits. Each has been a rewarding and enriching time for me. We arrived at the house at Woodward and big Beaver Road in Bloomfield Hills in good time. The house is set on almost 40 archers, a piece of the country in the middle of urban space. The traffic speeds by on Woodward right past the grounds, and one would never know it.

We were told this retreat is a gift from God, and God called each of us to the retreat for a reason. This is a rest stop from the world, a time to renew to ourselves and grow as persons. As is the tradition common to all Jesuit retreat house, this was a silence retreat. Silence is not a punishment or a disciplinary measure, but a way of listening for what God has to say. You will not hear God, if you are talking someone, and that person can not hear God as well, or the people around those speaking.

During the retreat we listened to presentations or sat in the library to read, wondered the grounds, whatever we chose to do. There was the Rosary, the Stations of the Cross, and mass.

Saturday, February 24, was the 27th anniversary of the death of my mother. I spent so quit time thinking of her. My mother had a horrible childhood, yet so tried her best to be a good mother. She did well, considering all she had to deal with in her past. My sister and I were lucky to have had her as a mother.

On Saturday evening a Healing Service was held, a time to deal with the pain of life, whether it physical, or personal. The cause may have been something done to us, an injury inflicted years before. This was a time to heal. Christ came to us as a healer, and spent most of his time healing the sink in body or is spirit. Chose what you want to heal, pray, take part in the service and allow yourself to recover. I feel better for having taken part in the service.

I was sorry the weekend came to an end, and on Sunday the time came for us to leave. Still, I have the next retreat to look forward to.