One Beautiful Dream by Jennifer Fulwiler

Author:Jennifer Fulwiler
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Zondervan
Published: 2018-03-29T04:00:00+00:00

After Mass, a woman stood up in front of the congregation and announced an upcoming women’s retreat. She shared a moving testimonial about how her life had been transformed by it. She wasn’t even finished with her speech before I elbowed Joe and whispered that I wanted to go. I hadn’t been very involved in our church community because I was so maxed out at home, so this seemed like a perfect opportunity to rekindle my prayer life—and maybe even meet some other women. I imagined spending all morning praying and reading Scripture, then having quiet conversations with fellow retreatants over meals.

Two weeks later, I was waking up on a church bus as it pulled up to the retreat center, which was located in a rural area an hour outside of town. After I shook myself awake and gathered my backpack, I stepped out onto the gravel drive to find myself at an unmarked building. Farm land stretched to the horizon; the only sign of civilization was a dilapidated hayloft about a mile away. I felt disoriented, like the people in the TV shows who have been kidnapped and taken to the terrorists’ bunker.

The building contained a lofty auditorium space, which was flanked by a chapel, two sleeping quarters packed with bunk beds, and an industrial kitchen. The structure rumbled with thunderous sounds of commotion from inside. When the retreat leaders opened the doors, it was an explosion of light and sound. There was music. There were shouts of welcome. There were hand-decorated signs with glitter and streamers. The organizers all wore bright pink t-shirts, whose vibrant hue matched their cheerful personalities. Women hopped off the bus behind me, rushing up to other women with hugs and squealed exclamations of greeting, giving the impression that pretty much everyone but me had come with a friend.

In my rush to get away, I had not looked into the details of this weekend before I signed up. And that, it now occurred to me, was a grave error.

In my defense, I had no idea that Catholics even did retreats like this. I had many Evangelical friends (again, “friends” meaning “people I talked to on my computer from the shadowy recesses of my home”) who described events at their churches as riotously fun gatherings where people sung and waved their hands and used the word fellowship as a verb. I had counted on my Catholic brethren to put together an emotionless, entirely cerebral retreat, and now it seemed that they had failed me completely.

A woman ran up to greet me. “JENNIFER! Welcome, sister!” I forgot that I’d been handed a nametag back in the parking lot where we met the bus, and in my sleepy state I was dazzled by her supernatural knowledge of my name. I was snapped awake, however, when she slipped my cell phone from my hand and dropped it into the wicker basket she held at her side. “I’ll take that, honey. Have an amazing weekend!” I turned to follow

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