This past weekend I was on a winter retreat with my faith community. There were 21 of us stuffed into a 4-bedroom chalet in the mountains. It was amazing to see how gracious and patient people were with each other. One person volunteered to sleep in the laundry room. Others offered to help out in the kitchen even if they were not scheduled to assist with cooking or cleaning. Our hosts welcomed us with huge smiles, hugs, and kisses. They silently served us in many ways: not only did they let us take over their chalet, but after a snowy night, we awoke to find that our cars had all been brushed off, ready for the trip home. I don't remember hearing any complaints over the weekend. We cooked together, we ate together, we went on a winter hike, we frolicked on the frozen lake, we drank tea by the fire, we played games, we had times of silence, we worshipped God together, and we prayed for each other. Our last meal together was a variation of a monk meal. In a monastic c
I have a PhD in dramatic theology and teach theology and spirituality in various settings. Welcome to my musings on life, learning, and theology.