Retreat from Insanity

“We are not ourselves when nature, being oppressed, commands the mind to suffer with the body.” King Lear (King Lear at II, iv)

It is not the law of nature to father or mother, as the case may be, 70 hot-blooded teens and all of the same age. Even Ramses II who was reputed to father a hundred children had decades to increase his brood and probably adopted many of them. Yet Christian catechists are asked to do the impossible and to top it all, without the pre-creation pleasure. Enough to drive anyone insane.

I speak not for others but for me, confirmation catechesis demands blood. In His divine mercy, however, my mortal body carries the burden only for 40 months. Coincidence with scriptural overtones aside, I strive to make the journey, especially the annual retreats, mean something to me personally – to be stronger, sagacious and slower.

Strength to affirm or negate requests and take the consequences, strength to teach and learn, strength to give thanks when all you want is to drop and sleep.

Wisdom to know not to panic when well-laid plans seem reeling out of control, wisdom to know that He is already working a miracle out of my mistakes, wisdom to know that He is the master and I am His, albeit a little shamelessly bossy and pushy, servant.

Slowing down to pray, slowing down to see that my spiritual needs can be so similar with my teens, slowing down to listen to people and edify.

It was insanely tough seeking a balance for their retreat – on the one hand an engagement with their senses and on the other an engagement with their spirit. Everything came into play – food (not necessarily sinfully sumptuous), games (not necessarily sweatily physical), sessions (not necessarily painfully didactic) and personal moments with friends and our God (not necessarily holily molly – at least it rhymes). For all these I thank these friends:

To Liesl and Merle who had worked ungrudgingly in the background providing for our sustenance and rest, and to Josephine and Mark who had accepted the barely skeletal session plans with alacrity and delivering them so engagingly, and to Raymond who liaised with our very talented externals to bring us music. To the YFs who had sportingly done so much of the legwork and cheerfully (except for momentary shocked looks) executed last-minute instructions (can’t help it at times). To Fr Ignatius who shut an eye to our mischief and cheekiness.

God be praised.

shared by Francis Ow