"God alone is my rock and my salvation, my fortress; I shall not fall..." (Ps 62:7, NABRE)
These were the first words I read when I randomly opened up the Bible in my room at the retreat center. It was the third day of the retreat and I was running on empty; tears flowing down my cheeks because I felt like I didn't belong there. But, before I go on, let me start from the beginning...
Exactly one week before I left for the trip, I started feeling sick. I had a low-grade fever that came out of nowhere. Every day after that was a new, different thing. Fever, aches and pains, fatigue, stomach issues, debilitating headaches, etc. It was never the same thing. The day before I left for the retreat, I got food poisoning (as did my mom) and I felt so terrible that I didn't know if I was going to have to cancel my trip at the last minute.
I had a strong feeling that taking the trip was a bad idea; that I should stay at home instead. I had so many strong doubts the day before that I felt overwhelmed. Eventually, my stubborn side kept reminding me that, no, I wanted this. That and I know that "feelings" can sometimes trip us up so I wasn't trusting them.
I'd been praying about/discerning becoming a Benedictine oblate for a long time. I kept reminding myself that I wouldn't have raised $800 in 11 hours if it wasn't God's will for me to make this trip. (By the way, if you're new to my journey, you can read about the beginning of my discernment to the fundraiser here.) God had made it clear that He wanted me to do this so I would, no matter what obstacles would come my way. What I didn't know was that the entire retreat would be full of obstacles that would leave me feeling drained.
I started my trip on only two hours of sleep. Due to the heebie-jeebies I get being on a plane, I can't sleep during flights. We had a pretty smooth flight but I was seriously fighting sleep by the time we landed in O'Hare. Thankfully, a fellow oblate offered to drive me from the airport to the retreat center so I was able to nod off during the drive. We went to lunch with other oblates before we went to the center, which I'm grateful for because it would be the last decent meal I'd have for 3 days.
Months beforehand, I let the oblate who organized the retreat know about my food allergies and intolerance. (side note: this was prior to my food allergy panel results.) He let me know that they would be able to accommodate my dietary restrictions. A few days before the retreat, I let him know I would be taking a small part of my food; the corn tortillas and a few snacks in case there was a mix-up. I'm grateful I took them because there was a major mix-up: they thought I would be taking all of my food and they weren't prepared for me. Gulp. The next couple of days consisted of me eating mostly tortillas and the few snacks I'd taken because they kept making me food that made me sick. At least I got some protein in the form of chicken... even though I ended up getting sick from it because they prepared it with ingredients my stomach couldn't tolerate. I was so hungry that I didn't care; I ate it all even though my body physically ached afterward.
On the second day of the retreat, I felt physically spent. I thought it was due to the lack of food and the lack of sleep so I tried to tough it out. When I started swaying and feeling like I was going to pass out whenever I stood up, I knew I had to let someone know I wasn't feeling well. You know, in case I did faint. When I started feeling like I couldn't breathe and I started seeing black whenever I stood, I knew I had to be seen by a doctor. I asked if there was a local urgent care I could be seen at. I only told our Oblate Master because I didn't want to disturb the other oblates' retreat experience nor did I want any attention. I just wanted to be quietly seen by a doctor because I knew something was wrong and I wouldn't be able to simply ignore it. He got one of the oblates to drive me to the local emergency room.
The final diagnosis? Dehydration, near-syncope ("most likely from lack of sleep and lack of food," according to the doctor), and a migraine. Awesome. Thanks, body! They checked my bloodwork and they gave me a bag of IV fluids. I was given the okay to fly back to L.A. on Sunday. I needed to rest and hydrate as much as I could.
The next day (our third day of the retreat), our Oblate Master told me to rest as much as I could. He told me he didn't care if I stayed and rested in my room for the entire retreat; he just wanted to get the scapular on me so I could begin my novitiate with them the following day. I went down for breakfast, feeling awful because I had only slept 3 hours. The chef said, "Oh wait, we have to prepare breakfast for you, too?" They had no food for me. I was so emotionally spent that I ate my tortillas while I tried to keep myself from crying. Unfortunately, I couldn't stop the tears from spilling over but, at least, I was able to cry as silently as I could. I did not want any attention.
Other oblates would come up to me and ask me how I was feeling. I would say "better" because those IV fluids really did help me out a lot but, emotionally, I was a mess. I was exhausted so I went up to my room to nap instead of going to the third conference. I didn't want to push myself any more than I already had. Before I took that nap, though, I called my mom and told her what was going on.
I broke down and cried. I wanted to go home because of how miserable I felt. I kept second-guessing my decision to have gone on the retreat. I messaged my best friends and told them I felt like I didn't belong there. I felt like an unprepared fraud; like perhaps I'd discerned incorrectly. It was bad. I don't usually have these types of thoughts so I scared myself a bit. They reminded me that I was stronger than I felt at the time. They wondered if I was experiencing spiritual attacks because this was a major trip for me.
Prayer and Lectio Divina in my room.
I took a nap and woke up before Sext and lunch so I decided to do a little Lectio Divina. That's when I took the Bible the center had provided. I chose a random page and opened it up. Of course, I would open it up to a psalm about trusting God. I felt like He was giving me consolation; letting me know that He wanted me there. I felt a renewed determination to stick it out, no matter what else would happen. The rest of the weekend was comprised of resting when I knew I couldn't push myself further, eating whatever I could, drinking as much water as I could, and trying to keep my spirits up.
Sunday -- the big day -- came. Despite the little sleep, I felt excited and ready. Since I couldn't fall back asleep after waking up at 3:30 a.m., I packed and got myself ready for the morning. I went into the kitchen and had something to eat so I wouldn't feel lightheaded during Lauds, Mass, and the scapular investiture of the new novices. I was fine during Lauds... but then I started feeling sick during Mass. It was almost like round two of what had sent me to the ER two days prior. Cue me mentally asking all the saints to intercede for me.
I kept swaying and wanting to black out when I stood up during Mass so, at one point, I stayed seated. I was a little embarrassed because I didn't want to seem impious but I knew it would be worse if I passed out. I also knew I had to go up to the altar during the Ritus Induendi Novitium Oblatum (the investiture ceremony) so I wanted to save up whatever little strength I had.
"Mama Mary... Guardian Angel... St. Benedict... St. Frances of Rome... all the Benedictine saints... Bl. Pier Giorgio Frassati... St. Therese... hold me up. Intercede just so that my knees won't buckle under me." I was able to get myself to the far right side of the altar and I leaned against the wall, holding on with one hand when I felt like my knees would give in. I felt like I had no physical strength... but, darn it, I was going to go through it all, standing!
As Fr. Prior was getting ready to place the scapular on me, I felt like I was going to fall to the ground. I stubbornly made myself stand away from the wall so I wouldn't have that support. I trusted God; I knew I was meant to be there so I let my fears go. (side note: who says having a bit of a stubborn streak is a bad thing? I only use it during times like these. lol.) There was no way I wasn't going to go through with it. Only the day before, after reading Psalm 62, I met with our Oblate Master and he told me that I was meant to be there. I knew it was what God wanted me to do; there had been too many "signs" that this seems to be God's will for me.
I kid y'all not, the second the scapular was placed on me by Fr. Prior, I felt the most refreshing peace wash over me. Not only that, all the shakiness and the physical weakness seemed to have disappeared in an instant. I felt strengthened... and I was instantaneously grateful for all I had endured up to that point. The tears, the physical and emotional obstacles, the ER visit... every single thing I had endured was worth it. I was grateful for all the difficulties because it made that moment even more glorious.
I didn't get to sleep for 24 hours after that, we had the worst turbulence I've ever experienced on the way back home, and it took me two full days to start feeling like myself again... but I survived.
I know it was due to everyone's prayers that I was able to make it through the entire weekend. I mean, I've struggled with constant fatigue for months now (though I'd been feeling much better and my health had been on the upswing up to a week before the trip). I can't function with less than 5 hours of sleep, yet I somehow was able to do it with an average of 3 hours of sleep per night for half a week. I can't fast because it makes me sick yet I somehow got through days of little food.
I'm sorry I missed half of the activities of the retreat. I'm also sad that I didn't get to know my fellow oblates better. I'm a little embarrassed when I think about what a first impression I made on them as well but it was a good humbling experience for me. It reminded me that I'm now part of a (lovely) community; that I can't do everything on my own and that trusting God is the only way to go. There was also no room for vanity (I walked around with my hair in a messy bun and my "humility glasses" for most of the retreat) or anything that would take away from the purpose of the trip. It was absolutely perfect in its own way.
Anyway, this post is far too long so I'll write a part two soon. Yes, there's more. I just wrote the basics of the obstacles so I can focus on the good that came from the retreat in the next post. :)
If you've made it this far, thank you for sticking with it! I promise not all posts will be this long.
I'm going to go make myself something to eat before I get back to work. I was thankfully given last week off to focus on the retreat but now it's back to writing articles and finishing my third novel. :)
Happy feast of the Eucharistic Heart of Jesus (traditional calendar) and of Bl. Pier Giorgio Frassati (unofficially in the new calendar)!
As always, thank you for reading and God bless!
