O, Let the River Flow

This weekend, after two years of good intentions, I finally went on the Newman Center's Fall Student Retreat. I go to mass there almost every Sunday, but I am woefully uninvolved otherwise and I thought it was probably time to step up.

I got myself out of bed on Saturday morning and hiked to church feeling like a 5-year old runaway with my backpack and pillow in tow. I'd never met anyone on this retreat, including the campus ministry director, so I chose to ride up with Katie Jo and Steph, who are sisters and very friendly and nice, and Anna who was very quiet but also nice (wow, my descriptions of people are vivid today).

We got up to the camp at about 11:00. I was thrilled to discover the retreat was being held at good ol' Camp Friendship in Annandale, where I went for all of my high school retreats back at St. Joe's. We were the first to arrive, so we claimed the nightingale cabin for the girls on the basis that it had leather couches. We overlooked the insect infestation, however. Box elder bugs and Asian beetles. In mass quantities. It was gross.

The weather however, was not gross. It was beautiful. October is the perfect time to be at Camp Friendship because all the leaves are changing and it smells good. The day was sunny and perfect, if a little windy, and everyone just felt like lying in the grass.

The format of this retreat was different than what I was used to. We did a lot of singing, which I enjoyed. We did a series of "prayer services," with some music, some scripture and then "wisdom" which was where the whole thing kind of trailed off and I wish it were more focused. In the evening, though, Father Mike and Sister Mary conducted a reconciliation/discernment service which everyone seemed very affected by. I met with Sister Mary, who I've decided is the female Mr. Rodgers. Talking with her was like having Jesus right there sitting next to you.

After that we had mass, and Father Mike's homily was about a man he's been investigating lately, Bruce Smith, who won the Heisman Trophy at the U of M back in 1941. People have been bringing up his name lately as a consideration for sainthood. It was interesting to hear the story. We all processed out of mass to the campfire, where we taught Andres, a grad student who just arrived from Colombia, how to make his first S'more.

Robbie and I talked to him for a long time in Spanish and English. Although his English is incredible, he was so appreciative to speak his native language for a little while. He was super nice and put up with our crappy Spanish. He did bring up a gripe about the English language that I'd never thought of before. He said we like to add words like "up" and "off" and "on" to words, sometimes for no good reason, like "shut up" or "work out." He was the most enraged, however, about the phrase "my alarm went off."

"It means the opposite!" he said, "shouldn't it be 'my alarm went on?'" I'm a little angry about it myself now.

We were asked to get up at the ass crack of dawn Sunday morning for a sunrise prayer service, which I didn't really appreciate, but the rest of the day was great. It always amazes me how a group of people can come together for a retreat not knowing each other and by the end of the weekend they're all best friends, exchanging e-mails, arranging to walk to mass together the next week. I love that and it always takes me by surprise.

Being up at Camp Friendship made me miss St. Joe's retreats and Chris Briggs. I missed the "God Box" and the same CD of reflection music we listened to every time. I missed inconspicuously touching your nose after finishing your dinner and making the last person to do it clean off the table. I missed laughing at Renee when she begged to sing "Prince of Peace" and I missed singing it. I taught the Newman Center group the Katie Streitz's famous choreography to "Let the River Flow" but it wasn't quite the same.

But I appreciated receiving a new experience. And a new t-shirt.