Re-entry

Grandfather Mountain from Valle Crucis

One of the most challenging parts about a retreat is ending it and re-entering – the proverbial "coming down from the mountaintop."  In my case literally coming down from the mountains.  This is the first time I've made a personal retreat that lasted 5 full days plus a travel day on each side.  Although I could have stayed longer, this felt like the right length.  Usually I'm longing for at least another day if not more.  But I had done the things I had intended except for one.  I hadn't hiked.  I was saving it as a treat for my last day if I got my writing work done.  Forecast for the day was low 80's and sunshine.

Lavender House

On the afternoon of Day 5, Friday, after getting my book manuscript in as good an order as I could, I left the hermitage for the first time and drove down into the valley to visit the Lavender House and to get a sandwich from the Ham Shoppe.  I was running out of salad, and ready for some meat!  When I got down to the shops, I was overwhelmed by the people and cars.  Aplace as small as Valle Crucis doesn't have real traffic, but there were almost no parking places at the Mast General Store or the sandwich place.  I waited long stretches of time to be able to turn onto the main road.  All around, people were starting their summer weekend in the mountains.  After a week of quiet, I couldn't wait to drive back up the mountain and slip back into the quiet safety of my hermitage porch to eat.  As I ate and rocked, I felt peace creeping in and gently replacing the anxiety of my foray back to civilization.

After a late lunch, I grabbed one of the cabin walking sticks and went for a hike, down the mountain through the woods to a waterfall I have visited before, but never from this direction.  I had always climbed up from the conference center.  This time I climbed down from the hermitages, a much longer journey.  Rhododendrons greeted me along the way, and my walking stick served for removing spider webs from the path.  As I approached the waterfall, I could hear the water rushing over the rocks.  Once down among the rocks, I turned my face to the sunlight streaming through the leafy bower overhead and soaked up the warmth.  With help from my trusty staff, I clambered out onto a flat rock in the center of the river and sat in a beam of sunshine facing upstream.  A fine mist blew above the water, droplets not even heavy enough to wet my skin.  I sang, as I often do when I'm out in nature alone.
"Rivers belong where they can ramble.  Eagles belong where they can fly."

Of course, she who hikes down must also hike back up.  The climb back to the hermitages earned me 14 peak cardio minutes on my Fitbit.  The entire journey took less than two hours, and despite the cool temperatures, I was breathing and sweating heavily when I had returned to the top.  I spent some time in the wooden swing below my cabin before heading to the shower and my last evening of retreat.
I had intended to go to bed early, thinking my hike would guarantee me a good night's sleep, and I would have time to write in the morning.  But the 3/4 moon illuminated the sky so it seemed like perpetual twilight, and the fireflies flashed brilliantly and the stars called me to gaze at their light.  I sat on the porch wrapped in a shawl in the cool, still air and felt deep peace in my soul.

The last morning, mostly packed, I took time to journal and to ask God to help me with re-entry.  I had decided to take an alternate route home, up 81 and over to the Blue Ridge Parkway so that I could visit a favorite "God spot" at Yankee Horse Ridge.  In my journaling, I prayed that I could tap back into the peace that I had felt so deeply at the Valle Crucis retreat.  That I wouldn't rush, that I would stay strong and centered and not be buffeted by ALL THE THINGS that would engulf me upon return.  That I would be able to endure the 95 plus degrees and thick humidity that I had so blessedly escaped for a week.  That I would remember the moonlit sky and stars the bird song and the stillness the serenity and tranquility of my hermitage stay.

Yankee Ridge - waterfall above me to the right

I did take my time, but I almost lost my peace when I got to my spot at the Yankee Horse Ridge Overlook.  It was barricaded due to construction on the Parkway and machinery they were storing in the parking area.  I couldn't figure out how to park and I kept going, fuming and discouraged because it was quite out of my way and there had been a number of slow downs on 81.  I was starting to get worked up when I remembered my journaling.  "You can't lose your peace that quickly," I told myself, and I said a little prayer, asking God to help me find a solution.  Finally, I saw a side road that allowed me to turn around and head back.  Someone had already pulled down the yellow tape and coming from that direction, I was able to slip in between two orange barrels and park.  I took my lunch, climbed up on my favorite rock, and completed my retreat gazing at the much slimmer waterfall above me.  I have had many conversations with God there, and it seemed like a perfect way to bring my retreat to a close and look toward my birthday in a couple of weeks.

Re-entry was still hard.  My disposal wasn't working, and Williamsburg was a sauna, but the most difficult was having my computer stop working the day I returned.  I've spent the week erasing my computer, rebooting the Operating System, and restoring all my files.  I still don't have it all back, but I'm functional again.  And the peace hasn't evaporated yet, either, though there were a few challenging moments.  How grateful I am for the gift of retreat, of Sabbath rest, of renewal.