Thank you always for offering these reflections, inviting my own. I was with you for the St Johns New Years retreat in 2015-6, and it resides in my bones.
Many times the words you offer in your posts bring it back. Today with:
“And rediscover all the yous
You left behind in getting to this place”
I enter Lent graced by the intentions you’ve framed on my behalf.
Beautiful photographs and beautiful words, Almut. These days solitude is my favorite way to be. I am often up in the night because of pain or other medical issues. As I write this, it is only 1:17 a.m. But it is still my "alone" time and I rather enjoy it.
I, too, was in that meeting room, sitting in peaceful and respectful silence with our retreat group, when you and Chuck entered the room to begin our day's first conversation. As I recall, you entered into that silence with us before gently invitingbus into conversation. I still think of that retreat as THE best welcome of a new year this introverted contemplative has ever experienced.
That appreciation of silence and of solitude has deep roots in my life.
When I was young, my two older sisters and I had a song we would sing when our parents went out for the evening, leaving us in the competent care of my oldest sister who grew up to be an elementary school teacher. The song was an exclamation of space and freedom to be: "We are alone in the house! We are alone in the house! We are alone in the hou-ou-ouse!" - each repetition of the phrase getting more and more dramatic! We have all grown to be adults who like to be alone sometimes - to think - to work without interruption on a project - to eat what we want when we want - to do absolutely nothing - to "waste" time - to be.
This morning my husband left to attend a working retreat at the same St. Johns guest house, where he mentors pastors in their first appointments to United Methodist congregations. And the first thing that came to mind for me when he left was that song, in it's alternate verse: "I am alone in the house!"
As I finished my morning coffee and began my morning scroll (which now-a-days feels more like a "doom-scroll", I opened your email and read your words. And now I find myself doing what I rarely do anymore: putting thoughts to a page (well, a phone screen), as I enjoy the fresh blanket of snow that will melt away over the next few days, and think about how I will spend the next 30 hours of solitude. I may making a little snow person!
Thanks, Almut, for the permission of your thoughtful reflection.
So lovely to hear from you, dear Donna! Thank you for sharing your story also. And yes, this retreat was a special one. I really would like to do to again. We miss it. And you!!
Isn’t the snow gorgeous? Every thing just looks like winter wonderland.
Have some wonderful days of solitude, dear friend 🙏
I love how the “floodgates” of yesterday and today’s fallen snow does indeed “feel like a multi-layered blessing—a quiet blanket that dampens all noise and invites me into solitude”—beautiful reflective essay you wrote that resonated with me today. Sandy
Thank you for this sharing, especially the pictures. I can only manage the free version, but it is enough. I’m resting after a morning’s work—two services of ashes. The invitation to solitude is a gift. Blessings.
Almut,
Thank you always for offering these reflections, inviting my own. I was with you for the St Johns New Years retreat in 2015-6, and it resides in my bones.
Many times the words you offer in your posts bring it back. Today with:
“And rediscover all the yous
You left behind in getting to this place”
I enter Lent graced by the intentions you’ve framed on my behalf.
Thea, we enjoyed that retreat at St Johns so much also. Looking forward to start this up again :-) And thank you for sharing your heart here with us 🙏
Thank you for this! I will spend some time in solitude with what you have shared. You are a blessing.
Thank you, dear Karen. Enjoy your solitude :-)
Beautiful photographs and beautiful words, Almut. These days solitude is my favorite way to be. I am often up in the night because of pain or other medical issues. As I write this, it is only 1:17 a.m. But it is still my "alone" time and I rather enjoy it.
Thank you, Linda, and blessings to your alone time.
IAlmut
I, too, was in that meeting room, sitting in peaceful and respectful silence with our retreat group, when you and Chuck entered the room to begin our day's first conversation. As I recall, you entered into that silence with us before gently invitingbus into conversation. I still think of that retreat as THE best welcome of a new year this introverted contemplative has ever experienced.
That appreciation of silence and of solitude has deep roots in my life.
When I was young, my two older sisters and I had a song we would sing when our parents went out for the evening, leaving us in the competent care of my oldest sister who grew up to be an elementary school teacher. The song was an exclamation of space and freedom to be: "We are alone in the house! We are alone in the house! We are alone in the hou-ou-ouse!" - each repetition of the phrase getting more and more dramatic! We have all grown to be adults who like to be alone sometimes - to think - to work without interruption on a project - to eat what we want when we want - to do absolutely nothing - to "waste" time - to be.
This morning my husband left to attend a working retreat at the same St. Johns guest house, where he mentors pastors in their first appointments to United Methodist congregations. And the first thing that came to mind for me when he left was that song, in it's alternate verse: "I am alone in the house!"
As I finished my morning coffee and began my morning scroll (which now-a-days feels more like a "doom-scroll", I opened your email and read your words. And now I find myself doing what I rarely do anymore: putting thoughts to a page (well, a phone screen), as I enjoy the fresh blanket of snow that will melt away over the next few days, and think about how I will spend the next 30 hours of solitude. I may making a little snow person!
Thanks, Almut, for the permission of your thoughtful reflection.
Donna
So lovely to hear from you, dear Donna! Thank you for sharing your story also. And yes, this retreat was a special one. I really would like to do to again. We miss it. And you!!
Isn’t the snow gorgeous? Every thing just looks like winter wonderland.
Have some wonderful days of solitude, dear friend 🙏
Truly a blessing to read at this time! Thank you.
Thank you for reading along, Linda, and blessings to your solitude.
I love how the “floodgates” of yesterday and today’s fallen snow does indeed “feel like a multi-layered blessing—a quiet blanket that dampens all noise and invites me into solitude”—beautiful reflective essay you wrote that resonated with me today. Sandy
Glad to hear, Sandy, and blessings to you always.
Thank you for the Blessing For Lent and the pictures of your beautiful snow. Brings such calming to these turbulent times.
Glad to hear this, Kathleen, I find snow always calming 😇
Rediscover all the “yous”
that line resonated with me also, Patricia.
Thank you for the permission to seek solitude .. I needed that this evening.
I can only imagine, dear Kim. May your solitude ground your heart for the care you give. And always, thank you. 🙏
Thank you for this sharing, especially the pictures. I can only manage the free version, but it is enough. I’m resting after a morning’s work—two services of ashes. The invitation to solitude is a gift. Blessings.
You are welcome, Nancy. And yes, solitude is always for free 😇