It's Sunday night and I'm tired, but not weary. I spent this weekend as part of the presenting team for Christ Renews His Parish at our church (similar, I've been told to the Emmaus Walk retreats, if you're familiar with those).
Nothing earth shattering happened to me. No "Shazaam" moments (that's for you, Anna). I gave a witness on Christian Awareness and related pieces of my story in which I could see God's grace working in and through me. I know what I said touched some people because they were nice enough to tell me so.
I laughed a lot. I cried a little. I ate an amount I'm satisfied with -- it wouldn't pass a Weight Watcher's test, but I don't think I was gluttonous either (I've done worse!). I slept more than I thought I would. And of course, I prayed...in silence, in word and in song.
I listened to my "sisters'" own testimonies and found myself a little surprised at how much I really care for them. And I met several new, wonderful women who answered the call to spend a weekend growing in love for Christ and in communion with others doing the same thing.
I prayed this morning for something specific to happen -- and it did. And I'm thankful for that grace. I experienced something that was unscripted, unplanned and unimaginably, beautifully reverent.
I've returned home, back to the busy-ness of life, but I hold with me all the prayers of this weekend, all the moments of quiet, all the painfully, joyfully honest stories of struggle and triumph, faith and love. And I am filled.