I’ve heard about this place from loved ones. My sister, brother-in-law, even my boss has been on one of these silent retreats. So here I am on the road leading out to Cloisters on the Platte. The road twists and turns and isn’t that kind of fitting, given how I’m feeling inside?
But yeah, it’s pretty out here in the country, they were right about that. Good view, so far so good. I’m really doing this. They told me this will be just what I need to reconnect with God. I won’t believe how beautiful the lodges are and how good the food is, they said.
Then sure enough, here comes that doubt again. Wasn’t that over and done with? Wasn’t it decided, my mind made up, this was going to happen, and it will be just what I needed? My sister swears by this place. How the silence is truly transformational. It was for her. Okay, this is my time, I’m giving it a try.
I turn onto the gravel road, I made it here. At the gate there is a gentleman standing with a clipboard and I turn in. This is it.
“Hi, welcome to Cloisters on the Platte, can I get your name?”
I tell him my name. He checks, and yep, I’m in the right place, he says with a friendly smile. Just a little further up the road, he says and I thank him. He seemed nice.
So I put the car in gear and start driving again through another slightly winding road and wow, this place is really something. The grounds are sprawling and well-tended. I pass by a statue to my left of a man with a cape. Don’t know much about who St. Ignatius is, but I expect I’m going to find out.
I turn into the garage and join in the rows of other cars and pickups and find a parking spot next to a minivan. Deep breath, I’m really doing this, I think. And there is that doubt creeping in again. That little voice telling me how I shouldn’t be here; I’m not some holy roller. In fact, I’m the exact opposite. I know I’ve let my faith lapse, that I have been away from church for too long. I linger in the car for a few more beats. Maybe I should just exit the garage and go back the way I came?
And then I think of my sister. She used to be such a nervous wreck, but she’s different now. More at peace, I think. And my brother-in-law? He’s been making the retreats out here for a few years too. And to think, I used to worry about their marriage, about whether they’d even make it. But that’s all changed now. For both of them. They said the Spiritual Exercises were created by St. Ignatius of Loyola and were all about his conversion experience. They make it relatable for people like me, you’ll see, they said.
And suddenly, I feel a little like the Prodigal Son. I feel layers of doubt drop off. It feels like… like I have come home. I take comfort in the fact that this is a silent retreat after all. I don’t need to share my story with anyone.
This is just me and God.
I step out of the garage and walk ahead towards the shuttle van parked in front of the gift shop, where a mix of volunteers and employees wait to check me in.
And so, it begins.
Jesus said to them in reply, “It is not those that are well who need the doctor, but the sick.I have come to call not the upright but sinners to repentance.” – Luke 5:27-32
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The above vignette, though fictional, is based on the real experiences of retreatants shared with Retreat Operations Manager, Amy Dickas.