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Dominican Retreat
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Learning to Slow Down
One Mother’s Journal By Ann Matturro |
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| Sometimes I think my name should be “Always Running Late.” This day, which I’ve been looking forward to for months starts out harried too, but still I manage to pack a bag, feed the kids and get out the door in time to beat the train to the station. |  |
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| I feel guilty leaving my two young children and my husband for the weekend, but I know theyll manage, and besides, I need this. At the Dominican Retreat in McLean, Virginia, where I will be with my mother, my meals will be cooked by others and no one will need a thing from me. It's the time I set aside each year for a much-needed spiritual tune-up. Slowing Down Mom meets me at the station. After a short drive we come to the convent and adjoining guest residence that we'll call home for the next 48 hours. Sisters Sue, Mary Ellen and Agnes quietly greet us and assign us each a small private room with twin bed, closet, desk, Bible and a tiny sink. There is neither a phone nor a TV, and the dormitory-style bathrooms remind me of my college days. Once settled we join the others in the lounge. Coffee is brewing, a fire is burning. There are bookshelves filled with spiritual reading and scripture. Already I'm feeling at home. We are asked to select our weekend prayer partner by picking matching numbers. Mine turns out to be Fran, a woman with two grown sons and an 81-year-old father who's battling lung cancer. Fran asks me to pray for the return of his health and also for her, his caregiver. My own prayer needs also revolve around family. Thank God we're all healthy, but I tell my spiritual friend that I feel as if I'm always chasing something - the kids, my career, commuter buses, dirty laundry, dust bunnies. By today's standards my hectic life seems normal, but I want to learn to live differently. I want to be a calm place for my young family. It's time to spend less time doing and more time being. The trouble is, I don't yet know how. Tinkling Bells and Heavenly Signs My mom delights in the way each day begins on retreat. At 8a.m. One of the sisters walks the hall ringing a little bell, the signal to prepare for morning praise. This short service, held in the chapel, includes music, prayer and a psalm to reflect on. There are large east-facing windows overlooking the woods, and as the sun streams in through the narrow spaces between the tree trunks, it drenches the pews in a lovely golden light. I make a note to start each day appreciating nature. There is only one man in our group of 30 women, Father Gregory Salomone, who will lead the masses and conferences. His passionate talks make us laugh, cry and think. After breakfast he speaks on forgiveness - of ourselves - and how chasing perfection is a waste of time. "If we are perfect," Father Gregory reasons, "we no longer need God. God wants us to need Him." I feel this message is for me. Nothing is ever done to my satisfaction, and this is an exhausting way to live. In another talk the amiable priest retells the famous story of Noah and his ark to illustrate what's possible when we trust in God. According to Father Greg, whenever we follow God's directive, we are given a sign. "Remember Noah's sign?" He asks. When the rains stopped, God sent Noah a rainbow to remind him that Heaven and Earth are joined. I get the Fathers meaning, and in my retreat journal I record his advice to look for signs. Almost immediately I start to recognize them. Making a retreat, I decide, is itself a sign that God wants to help me make the changes I desire. The Nuns' Stories The sisters, too, hold conferences. Sister Agnes's talk is about letting go and letting God. "When you give God control of your life," she says, "you discover God takes you to people with gifts that you need, gifts of healing and joy." These women have not led cloistered lives. One sister spends time in the military before taking her vows; another is a divorced mother of one. Sister Agnes suffered the loss of her father when she was only nine years old. It wasn't until her early 20s that she stopped blaming God for her father's death. I decide that if Sister Agnes can trust God even after such a devastating tragedy, so can I. The Gifts In some ways it's a difficult weekend. The quiet brings up unresolved issues, but it also brings insight and clarity. Returning home, I feel fortified. I know that the care I have taken of myself will help me take better care of my family. As I hug Ryan, Billy and my husband, Bill, I say a silent prayer of thanks for everything I've been given, for everything I'm about to receive and for having God in my life. Suddenly, my life no longer feels exhausting; it feels full - blessedly full. Now all I have to do is enjoy it. |
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Mailing Address Dominican Retreat |
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