From the Abbey to Anabel: Part 1

Reflections on my first retreat for my school of spiritual direction

Day 1

Welcome to the first entry in my journal series about my inaugural retreat for the school of spiritual direction, followed by our annual family farm (Anabel) visit. This week proved to be deeply formative, and I'm excited to share the entire experience with you. Let's begin with day one.

October 15, 2024

The Journey

Today was an exceptionally long day. I departed from Medford airport at 5:00 AM PST and landed in Kansas City around 2:00 PM CST. The time change always affects me when I travel to Missouri, though I usually adjust after a couple of days. However, having woken up at 3:00 AM with minimal sleep, I could already feel fatigue setting in.

After meeting up with a few members of my cohort, we journeyed to the Abbey in Conception, Missouri. While the drive wasn't particularly long, it felt like the true beginning of my adventure. The flight from Medford to Kansas City is familiar territory, as I make annual trips to our family farm in Macon, Missouri. This drive, however, was distinctly different.

The scenery bore a resemblance to what I knew, yet it wasn't quite the same as the route to Macon. I encountered the familiar low rolling hills and oaks with their changing leaves. Fields of drying soybeans and corn stalks punctuated the landscape between small towns. Despite these similarities, this drive felt unique—a sensation I couldn't shake.

Arrival

One moment we were traveling down a worn country road, and the next, the Abbey sprang up before us—a city built by God. I'm rarely stunned, but this sight took my breath away. Any tiredness from my early morning start vanished. The Basilica of the Immaculate Conception seemed to rise out of the land as if by magic. I had arrived at the first destination of my 8-day journey: the Abbey.

"All guests who present themselves are to be welcomed as Christ, for he himself will say: I was a stranger and you welcomed me (Matt 25:35)."

Benedictine hospitality is renowned worldwide, and this being a Benedictine abbey, I expected—and received—nothing less. We found the guest house and were guided to our rooms. They were simple yet contained everything we needed. As I unpacked my bag, I could feel my soul begin to unpack some of the baggage it had been carrying as well.

An Old Friend

With some time before dinner and Vespers (evening prayer), I slipped away from the guest house and walked towards the basilica. The rhythm felt familiar. Last summer, I began my sabbatical at Mt. Angel Abbey in Oregon, where the path from guest house to basilica became well-worn by my feet. Yet, despite the similarities, this experience felt new.

I entered just before the bells rang, while the monks were still absent. As I picked up the lectionary book, I felt the peace of Christ envelop me. My Pastor, Kenner, recently said, "A sabbatical is an old friend; there are moments you experience after you have one that remind you of him." This was one of those moments. I was transported back to the summer of 2023, when I was blessed with the privilege of rest. As the bell chimes faded into silence, the brothers entered. The organ played, and together we sang praises to the Lord.

After Vespers, aware of the approaching dinner time, I hurried back to the guest house. The group greeted me with enthusiastic shouts of "There he is!" and warm smiles. However, there was one person I was particularly eager to meet: Craig.

Craig Babb has been my spiritual director for just over two years, though it feels like forever. He has guided me in discerning God's voice through some of life's most challenging moments—all without us ever meeting in person.

People are often surprised when they learn that Craig, my Spiritual Director, is in Kansas while I'm in Oregon. Their first question is usually, "How did you find him?" They're typically amazed when I explain, "I googled 'evangelical spiritual directors' and found the Evangelical Spiritual Directors Association website. I saw that Craig was near Kansas City, a place I visit often, and thought it might be a good fit." In retrospect, I believe the Wild Goose (the traditional Celtic name for the Holy Spirit) played a significant role in this connection. *

Craig approached me with a beaming smile (he was taller than I'd imagined) and enveloped me in a bear hug. Despite never having met in person, it felt natural—it felt right. I then joined the rest of the group, and we shared our travel stories as we made our way to the cafeteria.

New Friends

Although many of us had met over Zoom before, this in-person retreat reminded me how crucial face-to-face interaction is. We spent dinner engaging in casual conversation, after which Craig led us through some icebreaker activities. (My favorite... he said sarcastically.) Typically, these initial meetings make my skin crawl—not because of the other people, but because of the vulnerability required. Opening up and allowing new people into my unconventional life feels daunting. However, I believe the Lord granted me grace. I felt surprisingly at ease with this new group of friends, and I was eager to begin our journey together.

Compline

Before our first session, we had time to attend Compline. As we finished dinner, the sun had set, bringing a peaceful atmosphere to the abbey grounds. A soft breeze carried a chill in the air, and the scent of fallen leaves reminded me why I adore autumn in this part of the country.

I made my way along the path to the basilica, pausing to absorb the scene. The bells hadn't yet begun to toll, so I had a few moments to spare. I captured a photo to preserve the memory, briefly wondering if my younger self would have been frightened by the angel statues lurking in the shadows. With this thought, I entered the basilica.

The space was empty; the monks hadn't arrived yet. I took my seat and began to pray, feeling thankful. I expressed gratitude to God for this opportunity my church community had provided. As I waited for the bells to begin, many names and faces came to mind.

Even though I knew they were coming, the bells still startled me. Their clear, intense tone rattled my heart. I felt their call to worship and prayer, and waited for the monks to arrive. As they entered, I stood along with the other attendees. The service began, and I thought to myself, "Hello, old friend."

First Session

Our first session reviewed the material we had been studying over the past few months. We delved into the question, "What is the Christian Life?" As I've written about this topic on my Substack before, I won't go into detail here.

As the session drew to a close, I felt fatigue setting in once again. However, this wasn't a draining exhaustion; rather, it was akin to the satisfying weariness that follows a day of productive physical labor. By now, it was nearly 10 PM CST, and the day had indeed been long. Our leaders shared the next day's schedule, and I retreated to my room. Sleep came swiftly as I laid my head on the pillow.