Ladies' Retreat

What is it about those ladies' weekends at the coast? We start with the basic ingredients--up to 20 women, lots of food, inspirational videos, shopping on Saturday afternoon, a hot tub, steep steps down to the beach, Trish on her knees trying to get the video player to work.

And somehow, like eggs and flour and sugar and milk and baking powder turning into a Sunday dinner cake, all the ingredients of the weekend turn into something bigger and better than the ingredients themselves.

We talk around the table while eating to-die-for brownies and we pile eight in a hot tub and talk, and we find room for four, sitting cross-legged on the king-size bed and pray together and talk some more, and we sit on the couches and talk.

I learned about new uses for band-aids and concerns about the youth and Lora's little niece's death and which woman feels like she doesn't fit the feminine stereotype and how Brenda's son in Montana saw a timber wolf and the rooster that attacked Arlene.

We discussed whether or not that wicked relative of "Sally's" is actually saved and what we all bought at the outlet malls and do you ever try on new Mennonite hairstyles [yes, and I realize flat and slick is not for ladies with thinning, graying hair] and how can we all reach out to "Jill" and matchmaking and our husbands trying to fix our problems vs. just sympathizing and of course our children and all their issues and personalities. And lots more that can never be mentioned in a public forum and must remain forever sealed.

I leave, every year, with that unspeakable relief of knowing that I'm not alone.

Quote of the Day:
"Mom, the first daffodil is on the table!"
--Jenny. What's with this? More times than not, I come home from the retreat and the first daffodils are blooming.