Home from Introvert Bible Camp

After five days of silence and a long, quiet drive on the unending pavement that is I94, I am home.

Last week began a three-month sabbatical from my work as senior pastor. At a hermitage in Northern Minnesota, my sabbatical commenced with a silent retreat that positioned me as unavailable to my family and congregation. It was a week of fast learning for all of us, me in particular, that I can step away (far away) and all is well. People continue to be cared for, kids are fed, and sometimes my husband can find a new shampoo bottle in the drawer in the bathroom when his runs out, although sometimes he cannot, like this week.

Who excitedly transforms into a hermit for five days in a tiny cabin tucked among a dozen or so other cabins occupied by fellow hermits to whom you cannot speak? Hermit, by the way, refers to someone who escapes everyday life in exchange for the quiet. It was like Bible Camp for Introverts. Nap, walk, read or write for hours. Food and water is left on your doorstep and time is spent listening to God, which means listening to the woods and its creatures, listening to your body and responding when it needs food or rest, and listening to the Spirit’s whispers in your prayers.

I learned (again) that we actually need very little, and the less there is (food, water, furniture), the more it is valued.

I turned off my phone Monday afternoon and did not touch it again until Friday. I missed it only twice, both times when I had an urge to Google an author whose work I was reading. Thank goodness that was not an option. You know what happens when you want to Google one thing. It’s “If You Give a Mouse a Cookie” every time! On your way to Googling, you stop to check your Instagram feed, which reminds you to send an email, at which point you decide to look at your bank account, and on and on. There is no such thing as a quick Google.

All genders can be seen ambling along the paths at the hermitage, but one day I noticed a half dozen or so women roughly my age. Later, I saw them congregate in the main building on my way to the shower. (Yes, hermits do shower, thank the Lord.) It appeared to be a women’s retreat. How brilliant! A gathering of women, perhaps moms, who took a couple of days to respond to no one’s needs but their own, answered no one’s questions, explained to no partner that your shampoo can easily be found by pulling open the drawer!

Moms often give in a way that makes it slip from our minds how we, too, are children of God. Children, all children, need to be known and loved and released from the mental load, if only for long enough to sneak into the woods for a few days of quiet.