Lately I have been doing more exercise than usual. Nothing much, but I could hardly do less than what I was. I've been doing 60 pushups and around 100 crunches. Not consecutively but still in one go around. Physically I like myself the way I am, but I want to be in shape and have some strength. I've been doing the pushups for awhile now, and the crunches a new addition. I also tend to walk for about an hour a day, in the form of pacing back and forth in my apartment either on the phone talking or lost in thought.
This weekend I was very grateful for the increased frequency of my workouts because I found myself unexpectedly with my arms full. Earlier in the month I had been invited to go on a retreat, and it was this past weekend. Right up until essentially the moment I left, I had been planning on simply attending the retreat, hopefully coming to peace with my various troubles, and getting to meet new people. But rather than show up empty handed only being able to take, God decided to bless me with arms so full that about the only thing I would be able to do was give.
The first curve ball came before I even left. Due to some odd circumstances I wasn't able to leave home until almost after the retreat had already started and I was 2 hours away. By the time I got there, it was dark, and I had no idea where to go. I decided since this was a retreat the best place to look for people would be in the Church. On the way in I ran into a guy who apparently works the grounds. He was extremely nice and agreed that I should wait in the Church for people to come in. I went in and found it to be dark with one lone guy sitting in the back strumming a guitar. Arms still full I decided to wait in the back of the Church for people to start coming in. And they did. Although no one stopped to talk to me about what I was supposed to do to sign in or put my stuff. Rather I sort of became an unofficial greeter. Everyone was quick to say hello, but I still couldn't figure out what to do logistically, and I hadn't seen the person who invited me and was helping work the retreat. Other than her I didn't know who else to look for because there was no way to tell the difference between participants and team members. In the end I decided to join everyone else in the Church.
At this point I was able to rest my arms for a second and take a break. I was very tired, and crabby. Being tired was my own fault for a week's worth of little sleep. I had a problem turning off Pacman at appropriate hours. But I was crabby and losing patience because no one was helping me with the exception of that nice older guy who did all he could, I had not liked showing up 2 hours late, my arms were full, and after greeting all those people I hadn't seen anyone that was making my heart beat any quicker. I realize now I shouldn't have been crabby. It wasn't their fault I was two hours late, and with the retreat fully underway, expecting someone to just drop everything was rather selfish. The reason we had all gathered in the Church was for adoration. If you are not Catholic, adoration is a time when the Eucharist is exposed and those gathered get an opportunity to sit in the presence of our Lord. Depending on your level of faith on the true presence this experience will range somewhere between completely batty to an ectasy capable of causing levitation. I would fall somewhere in between these extremes, tilting more to the right, and so it was very nice getting to simply sit quitely with Jesus and regain some semblance of calm.
So I'm in there praying when all of a sudden that lone guy in the back starts singing "Oh Come, Oh Come Emmanuel" while playing his guitar. This is not my favorite song. We sing it every advent and by the time the fourth week comes along I really mean the words "Oh Come Emmnauel" just so we can be through singing this terrible song. It's boring, doesn't have a great chorus, and very little rhythm. And yet when this guy sang it, it was probably one of the greatest things I had ever heard. It sounded like how I would imagine one of the saints from old would sing. Like his entire being was caught up in singing to his Love. St. Augustine said, "when you sing you pray twice." In the context of that song I realized I have never sung. And then all too soon my arms were full again and I needed to hustle out of there, leaving everyone behind.
This weekend I was very grateful for the increased frequency of my workouts because I found myself unexpectedly with my arms full. Earlier in the month I had been invited to go on a retreat, and it was this past weekend. Right up until essentially the moment I left, I had been planning on simply attending the retreat, hopefully coming to peace with my various troubles, and getting to meet new people. But rather than show up empty handed only being able to take, God decided to bless me with arms so full that about the only thing I would be able to do was give.
The first curve ball came before I even left. Due to some odd circumstances I wasn't able to leave home until almost after the retreat had already started and I was 2 hours away. By the time I got there, it was dark, and I had no idea where to go. I decided since this was a retreat the best place to look for people would be in the Church. On the way in I ran into a guy who apparently works the grounds. He was extremely nice and agreed that I should wait in the Church for people to come in. I went in and found it to be dark with one lone guy sitting in the back strumming a guitar. Arms still full I decided to wait in the back of the Church for people to start coming in. And they did. Although no one stopped to talk to me about what I was supposed to do to sign in or put my stuff. Rather I sort of became an unofficial greeter. Everyone was quick to say hello, but I still couldn't figure out what to do logistically, and I hadn't seen the person who invited me and was helping work the retreat. Other than her I didn't know who else to look for because there was no way to tell the difference between participants and team members. In the end I decided to join everyone else in the Church.
At this point I was able to rest my arms for a second and take a break. I was very tired, and crabby. Being tired was my own fault for a week's worth of little sleep. I had a problem turning off Pacman at appropriate hours. But I was crabby and losing patience because no one was helping me with the exception of that nice older guy who did all he could, I had not liked showing up 2 hours late, my arms were full, and after greeting all those people I hadn't seen anyone that was making my heart beat any quicker. I realize now I shouldn't have been crabby. It wasn't their fault I was two hours late, and with the retreat fully underway, expecting someone to just drop everything was rather selfish. The reason we had all gathered in the Church was for adoration. If you are not Catholic, adoration is a time when the Eucharist is exposed and those gathered get an opportunity to sit in the presence of our Lord. Depending on your level of faith on the true presence this experience will range somewhere between completely batty to an ectasy capable of causing levitation. I would fall somewhere in between these extremes, tilting more to the right, and so it was very nice getting to simply sit quitely with Jesus and regain some semblance of calm.
So I'm in there praying when all of a sudden that lone guy in the back starts singing "Oh Come, Oh Come Emmanuel" while playing his guitar. This is not my favorite song. We sing it every advent and by the time the fourth week comes along I really mean the words "Oh Come Emmnauel" just so we can be through singing this terrible song. It's boring, doesn't have a great chorus, and very little rhythm. And yet when this guy sang it, it was probably one of the greatest things I had ever heard. It sounded like how I would imagine one of the saints from old would sing. Like his entire being was caught up in singing to his Love. St. Augustine said, "when you sing you pray twice." In the context of that song I realized I have never sung. And then all too soon my arms were full again and I needed to hustle out of there, leaving everyone behind.
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