The Great Adventure

I realized that I miss writing. Even if it's not something I'm particularly good at, I enjoy it, and I think I'm going to try to do more of it, even if it is just journaling and blogging.

This afternoon, during free time on our retreat, we headed out to the frozen pond, where the boys had played hockey earlier in the week. We were content to slide around in our shoes, although I'm proud to say that my shoes were by far the slickest, and I did win the contest to see how far we could slide after being slingshotted (is that a word?) across the ice. I also managed to fall unintentionally far more than anyone else, though maybe that has little to do with my slippery shoes. We were joined on the ice by Petrus, a Bernese mountain dog who lives at St. Malo, wanders the grounds without a collar (though has to be locked up during Mass or I'm told he's quite disruptive), and plays a mean game of tug-o-war. After our ice time, we hiked the John Paul II Trail, so named because the late pope hiked that path during his retreat to St. Malo during his stay in Colorado for WYD 1993 (btw, we held our meetings in the room he stayed in, and it was awesome to reflect on the amazing man that he was and how much he affected our whole generation, as well as each of us individually). Petrus led the way, stopping occasionally to make sure we were following him, using the break to veer from the trail to eat fresh snow. On the way back, he bounded ahead of us like a little puppy, stick in his mouth, begging us to chase him. Of course we obliged.

There were many other great moments this weekend, laughing hysterically at meals to stories of sleep-walking and marathons ("Tell the girls downtown..."), learning about the start of Marian groups in Denver, hiding in laundry hampers and scaring the crap out of Rachelle and Laura...you know, the usual stuff.

We also had plenty of time for prayer, sharing, reflection, and learning about ourselves and each other. I don't know that I made concrete steps in any direction this weekend, at least as far as my faith goes, but I know that God just wants me to stop worrying and love Him, because in the end, that's the only thing that matters, and nothing I can do is big enough to screw up His plans if He doesn't want it to. So I rest knowing that I am surrounded by holy, loving, funny, profound women of Christ and that I am never alone in my walk with Him.