View Photos From Womens' Retreat

I almost didn't make it. I had recently taken a couple of trips and was feeling pinched financially. Also, I'm a writer and constantly weighing how to divide time between my day job and what I need to do to have a writing career and how I will live if I never do. This takes up 75% of my head space. The other 25% goes to aging parents far away, how to eat seven servings of vegetables every day and comparison shopping for health insurance. Weekends offer precious writing time. I made a call after three things became apparent. One, I needed God time. Two, I craved more fellowship with those who have made church and faith a part of their lives. Three, it was important. For me. Now. I signed up.

Friday night we gathered in the large, modern meeting room and welcomed each other. Laura asked us what we expected from the retreat. Some of us were there to heal. Others were there to have conversations with other women, make new friends, have a massage or take quiet walks in the beauteous gardens. Those who had attended previous years looked forward to doing an art project. We brought specific challenges to meditate and pray on. We sought nourishment for our souls to return home with. There were expressions of sheer joy over having a room to one's self -- sorely needed privacy for those who don't live alone. Companionship for those who do. And my favorite:

"What do I expect? A miracle!"

We laughed and seconded it. Sure, a miracle would do just fine out there on a late Spring weekend in Encino. Laura added it to the list. I'm not sure I really believed I'd get one (notice how quickly it became all about me) but for those of us who are great believers in lists, there it was, expectation #10. MIRACLE. I had a brief coherent thought. Maybe it wasn't going to be about getting a miracle. Maybe it was going to be about finding one.

Then I forgot all about it. Until − well, until the miracle.

The retreat schedule and theme, "Women's Spirituality," was blissfully mindful of our individual needs and the different places we may be in our spiritual journey. Laura emphasized that we could participate in scheduled sessions, or not. There was enough down time to read, reflect, sleep, ponder flowers or make new friends. There was time to worship during compline − evening services − and Sunday morning when we gathered for an outdoor communion service planned by all of us. In small groups we discussed our grandmothers and great grandmothers, thankful for what we remembered and mournful for what we did not.

There was an art project inspired by the poem "For Our World" by Mattie Stepanek. He reminds us that "In so many ways we are the same. Our differences are like unique treasures. We have, we are, a mosaic of gifts …" We sat at tables out on the patio and glued and grouted tile, making our own mosaics. It never fails to astound me how people make art (or craft in this case) in so many different ways. It is truly a wonder to behold the different forms of expression. We all had the same tiles to choose from. We all had the same tools. Yet there they were: mosaics with tiny bits, mosaics with big chunks, mosaics in total free form, mosaics in neat grids. I learned how to cut tiles and enjoyed discussing the finer points of gray versus white grout with Reverend Pat Hendrickson.

On Sunday morning I managed to get up for a 6:30 am walk around Encino with Laura and two other early risers. Outside the retreat grounds we surprised an elderly man in pajama top and shorts getting his paper. He gave us a big smile. I think he forgot he was wearing his pj's. He seemed very happy to see four women walking and talking with coffee in hand at the end of his driveway. I tell myself: These are things that may not be noticed. These are things that are important.

We celebrated the eucharist outdoors. Surrounded by Nature, we passed each other the bread and wine. At lunch time, I noticed ten words on a banner that hung in the dining room and scribbled them down. The miracle had come to me and I had found it. As one woman said to our small group that morning, regarding the weekend and what she had received, "I feel so cared for." Miracles can be very gentle.