What happens when a bunch of barren (infertile? fruitless? we tried brainstorming a less archaic term for childlessness, but nothing fit so well as the Biblical word in the end) women get together for a weekend getaway in St. Louis?
Well, of course, some things will forever be top secret, but here’s what I can tell you:
Much Rolland hospitality was enjoyed.
Many gluten-and-dairy-free desserts prepared by Gina and her beautiful family were consumed.
Unseasonable spring weather was soaked up.
Colorful skeins of yarn were knitted.
Multiple medical questions were answered by Dr. Gosser.
Several hymns and spiritual songs were sung with Pastor Cholak.
Thoughtful gifts were exchanged. Frequent, girly laughter was heard. Honest tears were shed. Memories were made, and hours of sleep were lost.
And, last but not least, our designated night out on the town happened to be the same evening as the naked-bike-ride-thingy to raise awareness for something bearing worldly importance. So, yep, some free range breasts were witnessed by the churchy eyes of our dear retreaters.
In all seriousness, Rebecca and I have never witnessed such a group of patient, loving women who listened to each other with all forbearance and bore with each other so selflessly. It was a beautiful thing to behold.
After sharing so much with each other, it was difficult walking away after church on Sunday. We all lingered and then lingered some more. The goodbyes were not the hyperemotional departures of youthful summer campers, but the looks, hugs, and quiet words exchanged were meaningful. How do you say goodbye to ones who have gone to the trenches with you?
All I could think to say was, “Thank you.”
Happy trails to you, dear sisters, and Christ keep you.