We often think of retreats as times of refreshment, as times when we choose to get away from our normal activities of daily living in order that we might behold God and also examine ourselves and our ways. And that is what retreats usually are.

I am on retreat even as I type this. Over the years I have found that I need to pull back from the maddening that is sometimes my life. I have found that retreats have given me an opportunity to schedule time alone to regain my equilibrium. Retreats help me align myself to the presence of God. When I am no longer sensitive to the fact that I’m barking and biting or that my life has again become unmanageable, retreats make space for me to simply “be still and know”.

It sounds so indulgent. And I suppose it could be. But for me and many who work in people-oriented professions; who have lots of plates spinning; who say yes to more than we should, having a personal day—a “Beth” day, as I call it—is a novel experience.

There are no good ideas in front of me, only colorful sticky notes covered in gibberish.  Pre-writing was not going well this time, but what could I expect after abandoning common sense?

Okay, I’m coming out of the closet on this one: I don’t like retreats.

For many people this summer included  vacations, enrichment tours, hiking trips, or pleasure cruises—all crammed with pressure-packed schedules. What about a day or two of rest and renewal? Personal retreats are just that. But people wonder how to take one.

It’s difficult to express just how worn and haggard I was when I traced the Virginia mountain back roads following cryptic directions to a retreat house. So much for my planned late night escapes to the coffee shop in town, there was no town. I parked the car and began a slow march into the empty lonely void of silence; retreat. I was terrified.

First, let me start by saying that I hate that word. Babymoon.  It just sounds antithetical. According to Wikipedia, “The etymology of the word babymoon indicates a private time at home for the parents and their newborn to enjoy their time together. More recently, the travel industry has succeeded in redefining the term to also mean a trip before the birth of a child.” Seriously? You’re going to go on some exotic trip “just the two-and-half of you” to a beautiful place and not be able to enjoy a legitimate pina colada [insert eye roll here]? No, thank you.

What is the purpose of the spiritual life? The French philosopher Gabriel Marcel said that in a sense we could “define the whole spiritual life as the ensemble of activities through which we reduce in ourselves the part played by unavailability.” Marcel’s wording may seem strange, but his point is a good one. The spiritual life is about becoming available—to God, to ourselves, and to other people.