His Time, His Way
It’s been about ten years now since we lost some very holy
ground in the Green Bay Diocese when the retreat house on Chamber’s Island was permanently
closed and the property sold. The
Diaconate Community used to hold an annual retreat there the last weekend of
June. To me, it was the ideal place for
a retreat because the only way to get there was by boat. There was something very blessed about being
able to park your car and your normal daily routine at Fish Creek, and board
the Quo Vadis for the thirty-minute boat ride to the island.
My wife Michelle and I were fortunate enough to attend
this annual retreat during my formation years as well as the first five years
of my ordination. There were always two
boat trips scheduled for the deacons.
One trip left in the morning; the other in late afternoon. Michelle and I always took the morning boat. Besides our eagerness to get to the island
and the quiet, relaxed atmosphere there, that gave us the time of the boat ride
and the afternoon to enjoy the company of the others on the retreat. Once the retreat formally began after dinner
Friday night, everyone was asked to be as silent as possible to allow
participants to focus on the presence of God.
I remember that final boat ride over. Everyone was glad to be together, but there
was a somber tone as the eventual closure of the retreat house had already been
announced, so we knew this was indeed our final retreat in this special place. Not surprisingly, much of the talk was on how
many times we had been to the island, favorite retreat directors, and good
memories.
When the Quo Vadis glided into the little
marina and moored, people already seemed to quiet down as we made our way up
the hill and the fifteen minute walk to the Holy Name Retreat Center. As we climbed the hill and walked along the
edge we passed by a huge oak tree that must have stood guard, like an angel,
for decades. One couldn’t help notice
that there was a scar of a fairly fresh lightning strike from about twenty feet
up, all the way to the ground. The
exposed heart wood was charred. The
leaves of the tree were shriveled and curled, letting us know that the
lightning strike was a fatal one. In
less than a blink of an eye, much like the quick and immediate encounter with Christ
that knocked St. Paul to the ground, the strong oak felt a stronger power and its
fate took a different direction.
The next morning, on a break following the first
retreat conference, I descended a long staircase that went all the way down to
where the persistent waves steadily washed ashore. The Niagara Escarpment runs all the way from
the south shore of Lake Ontario in upstate New York and arches all the way to
the Door Peninsula in Wisconsin that protrudes into Lake Michigan. It is primarily limestone so, I was not surprised
by the bleached white rocks that were strewn along the shoreline. I stooped down to pick one up.
I had much to consider and pray about that last
retreat on Chamber’s Island. And much of
my thoughts revolved around the witness to me of that Pauline oak, and that
wave-polished limestone rock. God is always
at work in us, shaping us to his will.
Sometimes the change comes in an unexpected flash of unanticipated life
experience; sometimes it is a daily washing over us of his presence, his love
and his mercy that finally wears down our resistance.
His Peace <><
Deacon Dan
Photo by Clayton Malquist on Unsplash
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