When my family took a vacation the year before last, we stayed in a house I’d stayed in before. My writing retreat group had been moved to the same house when the one we’d reserved had delayed construction. It was more than we would normally use—more space and more money. But I liked it, and it was a good trial for a family reservation a couple years later.

My writing retreat group had repeat stays in houses before, so being in a familiar house wasn’t a first for me. However, being in a house for the second time with a different purpose was new for me. The writing retreat stay is always quiet except for evening meal time. And that’s how I like it. The family stay was not quiet. And that’s how I like it. Two different purposes. Two different groups of people. My writing friends. My closest family. 

When I retreat with my writing friends, writing (and retreat) is the focus. The people are the added blessing. We come together, but we are primarily on our own. I wouldn’t do as well without each other though, not just for those ten days but also for the year in between. We’ve grown closer over time and rely on each other for support, encouragement, and accountability. While we could retreat on our own, we would prefer not to. 

On the family trip, the people were the main point. We didn’t do absolutely everything together. It was an opportunity for everyone to get away from their daily routines and spend time with each other in smaller groups, not just as a whole. Depending on specific interests, we’d split apart for part of the day. There was one afternoon when people scattered, and I found myself in a quiet house (except for the lullaby baa baa music lulling through the monitor as I made sure the little nappers were still settled in bed). I got to write for a little while. Reflect. Pour out. Sigh. Recharge. 

It wasn’t anything I needed to write, but it felt full circle. I had written there before. I stayed in the same room. It was a different season of the year, and I sat in a different part of the house, but there was a familiar comfort to it. 

As people started to crowd back into the house and I started dinner prep, the smile on the inside kept spreading to the outside. Two pieces of my world collided. I looked around and saw people I deeply love enjoying themselves. I looked outside and saw beautiful fall colors softly falling to the ground. I heard the giggles of kids. I smelled the supper we’d soon enjoy. Thanks, God, for the many blessings of my life.

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