Tuesday, October 12, 2021
Jocelyn Philbrook
Reflection on Parish Retreat
Some of my earliest memories of church are being in a common area with older parishioners teaching me how to cross-stitch. I loved it. They would teasingly poke at each other about their stitches and hover over the kids that wanted to learn. These wonderful women eagerly changed thread, encouraged tired hands, and praised finished projects. It was lively, warm, and filled my soul with peace.
A friend, and fellow parishioner, tells me that for a church to become a staple in a child’s life, they need to have relationships with two other members. It makes complete sense to me and echoes my own experiences. My relationship with the church started with a Deacon walking me to school and continued with the buzz of the parish community. My childhood church was the place where on any given day, you'd enter the hall and see people busily doing “things.” At that age, I had no idea what they were doing, but I loved to stop in on my way home from school to see what was happening.
To be fair, I barely knew these people. My parents were divorced, and neither had a relationship with the church. It never stopped anyone from chitchatting with me, just like I belong there. It was the friendly, welcoming community that drew me in. The inviting afterschool space made me initially drag my little brother along, and then we both begged our mom to go on Sunday. I am constantly searching for opportunities to give my children a bit of that magic all these years later.
It isn't hard to close your eyes and imagine my story playing out in Thaxter Hall. I treasure that about our parish. And it is one of the many things the last 18-months took away. I personally miss the stories from the St. John’s coffee hour and getting to know our community in a different way. Sometimes people don’t even realize their contributions until the moment is over. I’m sure the women my brother and I knew from our childhood would get a kick out of reading this reflection now.
This year’s retreat was a much-needed return to the informality of being together. The laughter and love of time spent working toward something. The “something” isn’t a universal group goal – it is different for every person there. For me, most years, it has been about making it through the weekend without too many extra gray hairs.
My family has attended the retreat since our youngest was barely 15 months. I had no idea what it would be, and for those that know me, it isn't a shock that even semi-camping isn't my favorite activity. That first year, I decided that if Kelly Boston asked – I was in. (And I am so very glad she did.)
The first year I was fortunate enough to sit with another parishioner who shared the most inspiring story of her career and breaking through the many, many barriers that come with a job on Wall Street. As the weekend unfolded, I heard all kinds of life experiences and thoughts about God. It was fascinating—people sharing all the twists and turns of life that shine a new perspective on things.
My first retreat was a little hectic with three kids under 6 but truly amazing. What was even better was the reaction from the kids. They loved it. The following year, there was no question about our attendance.
This year, Randy was away for work, and I debated skipping it. It felt hard to take three kids now 9, 6, and 4 semi-camping … solo. There was also the weight of being out of cell range for 2-days during a time when my brother’s terminal disease had entered its next heart-wrenching phase. Randy certainly didn’t expect me to go, and the potential of a rainy weekend seemed to finalize the decision.
Over dinner, I told my little crew that we might not be able to go on the retreat this year. History repeats. They all pleaded and assured me it would be the "best weekend ever." It reminded me so much of my brother and me begging my mom to go to church on Sunday.
Amelia, Connor, and Henley love the retreat and everything it brings. There is a familiar rhythm they treasure and engagement with people they don't usually see. Sure, they get a weekend of playing with kids their age, but they also enjoy puzzles with “true puzzle masters” and walks through the woods with people that explain volcanoes in New Hampshire.
They are also at an age, especially Amelia, where church and mysteries of our faith are fascinating. Not being in Sunday School for 18 months means that their knowledge is based solely on their school. It prompts questions and discussions I love but often struggle to explain. It also equates to them being very curious when Father Rob explains anything. This time in their life is precious and fleeting. Being part of a service and invited to the table was a very special event that I thank everyone there for participating in.
The retreat for the kids isn’t just friends, hikes, marshmallow roasting, or crafts the kids love. It is all of it. They spend time with people they don't typically see, hearing them share what matters to them. Finding connections and common footing with people they've only seen at a coffee hour. None of it works without everyone stepping a little outside their comfort zone – including me.
Thank you to Rob, Anne, Ashley, Olin, Jen, and everyone else on the St. John’s staff that made this year possible. But most especially, thank you to everyone that came along. Young or old, your presence enriched my experience and gave me a gift I treasure. You are helping deepen a love of God, St. John's, and our community in all those who attended. If you couldn’t join this year, I hope you'll consider it in the future. Your presence matters more than you know.
Ps. I haven't taught my kids how to cross-stitch, and I still don't know how to knit. Hint. Hint.