08/10/2026
This weekend more than 150 of us, babies to elders, gathered for our biannual all-church retreat.
For three days we played, laughed, talked, hiked, swam, sang, learned, ate, made art, made music, and made real connections with one another. Deep gratitude to the organizers, and deep gratitude to the participants who made the experience what it was.
The organizing team did a beautiful (and enormous!) job of creating the container for the retreat. And then, just like on a Sunday morning in the church building, the participants filled that container with life.
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At our Sunday morning mountainside service, we closed with these words:
Like solstice and equinox, like our water ingathering in fall and our flower service in spring, this shared retreat is one of the poles around which the life of our congregation moves.
In every gathering that marks the passage of years, we look back and we look forward. We remember that since we gathered two years ago, there are empty chairs among us -- people we loved and knew in this community who have passed on. And, since we gathered on retreat two years ago, there are new friends, new relationships, new babies here together.
As individuals and in community we look back at the trail we’ve covered -- some of it rough, some easy, all of it remarkable -- with the holy hidden everywhere at every step right in among among the ordinary.
On retreat we rediscover something which exists in the day to day world but that we have forgotten how to find. New relationships discovered or deepened, the quiet moments and the loud celebration, the delight and growth -- these ordinary, remarkable moments are the rocks that you are bringing back home, and passing forward to everyone who comes through our doors.
The poet Philip Booth, writes a last good word to send us onward:
Beyond here there’s no map.
How you get there is where
you’ll arrive...
Whatever your route, go lightly,
toward light.
Amen