Faculty Retreat

I am not convinced that I can pull today off. I need to be at work by 7 to open before I leave on the bus for the annual Faculty Retreat which is being held at Houghton College this year, an hour's drive south of Rochester. What will I do if I flag out? I know I can lie down on a couch in the student union. But the bus ride down and back looms before me mountainous and foreboding.

I will not allow cancer to defeat me. This is ridiculous. Its just sitting. I have no heart for the day at all. No energy. No desire to intermingle with colleagues, known or new. But I will do this. It is part of my job. I will not just get through, I will determine to give it my best effort and then when I am maxed, I will stop. If push came to shove, I could call Kiel to come and get me.

I have brief visions of collapsing in an embarrassed heap in mid aisle somewhere and I quickly dismiss the thoughts. I need no notoriety. Take one step at a time and be quiet about it. No one need know your battles. I realize how short tempered I am. Every little inconvenience tempts me to lash out cruelly at the first available poor innocent. I bite my tongue. I will smile and listen for all I am worth and not allow my pain any evidence outlet anywhere.

The day is dark and cloudy with a misting rain. Not unlike my soul. I do not push myself. I allow myself to be carried along with the rest of the people. I do listen. I sit quietly, drawn into myself and I observe intently, asking for revelation, for understanding, for insight. It is a slow day that unfolds at a gruelingly mopey pace, but I have nowhere else to be. I make myself content. I choose to live in this moment at this time regardless of my body.

It is a retreat. I am learning much about myself and about my colleagues and about the world of education. I tuck away ideas and strategies. Lunch is elegant. Even though there is little I can eat, I appreciate the beauty of the display, the delectable selections, the conversation swirling about the table. It is good to be part of this.

I admit that I selfishly prayed for no seatmate on the return trip, and I was blessed to be left alone. I vegged immediately. Not sleeping, but sometimes closing my eyes. Listening to snatches of conversations. Watching the blur of landscape pass before my eyes, knowing green will soon be caught up in a blaze of autumnal vividity.

It was a good day. It was a solid day. I am home at 5 pm and will head right to bed. I am better today than yesterday. Better by far than Thursday. Tomorrow I will be better yet. God is good. Life is good. The world is OK. Good night and sweet dreams.