This past weekend I had the privilege of coordinating a women’s retreat. (Well, it’s not actually a retreat, it’s an experience, but for brevity—which I have now lost sight of— I’m going to refer to it as a retreat.) I digress…
This past weekend I coordinated a women’s retreat and some of my biggest anxieties became realities: the weather was snowy, an important detail was missed, and someone on the team got the stomach flu. I had spent the months leading up to the retreat thinking about worst-case scenarios and then reassuring myself they wouldn’t happen (one of which being someone getting the stomach flu). I had spent many hours praying for the success of the retreat, always tacking on the end “and please God don’t let there be snowy roads.” I made countless lists, and triple checked them once they were checked off only to find out I had still missed things. Like how when men started arriving for the men’s retreat that was occurring simultaneously, it became apparent that I had forgotten to tell the participants to bring bedding. In fact, the letter I sent them said “bedding/pillows are provided.”
All these bumps in the road, bumps that I had worried about, were bumps that when I came upon them, were fully out of my control. All these little anxieties-turned-realities were potent enough on their own to send me into a tailspin of fretting and regretting. All these worries-come-true together is a lethal combination which could have easily robbed me of peace—but they didn’t. Praise the Lord, they didn’t. By the grace of God, and through my cooperation with his grace, instead of drowning in an ocean of anxiety, I found myself gently floating on top of the waves all weekend, marveling at God’s goodness, presence, and power, totally in awe of what he taught me about the treasure of the present moment. How did I stay afloat amid the tsunamis of anxiety, you may ask? One word: surrender.
The Night Before
The night before the retreat, I sat with my friends sipping coffee and sharing with them my anxieties (and anticipation, but mostly anxiety) about the weekend. I asked them to pray for me and that my anxieties wouldn’t take away from anyone else’s experience. One dear friend had happened to bring a couple copies of the Surrender Novena to take to the retreat for the candidates and my other dear friend said to me “Amber, I think you need to do some prayers of renouncing evil spirits and probably pray that surrender prayer too.” She was so right. I went home and prayed all nine days of the Surrender Novena at once, each day’s prayer being so poignant it nearly physically hurt and at the same time being so incredibly freeing and exactly what I needed to hear. Upon finishing the ninth prayer, I resolved to not check the weather for the entire weekend. I surrendered the anxiety I had been feeling for the past several days, having formed a multiple-times-a-day-habit of checking the weather for my hometown and the retreat destination, as well as every town in between.
But what about the chance of snow that had just increased from 5% to 50% in the last day?! One of my biggest fears, being forced to travel in winter weather, was coming true!
Jesus, I surrender myself to you, take care of everything.
The Morning Of
The morning of the retreat, I sat in my functional medicine doctor’s office patiently waiting to be called back by the phlebotomist. (Of all the days to have to get labs drawn, I certainly would not have chosen this particular day but that’s a story for another time). I felt my phone vibrate in hand and glanced down to see the name of the vice-coordinator of the retreat. I discreetly answered it and she said “You’re gonna kill me. I’m sick and have been up all night. There is no way I can make it.” I reassured her that everything would be okay and implored her to just stay home and rest.
What will I do without Cristy? Who will help me lead the weekend? Who will do her talk? How long does norovirus live on surfaces?
Jesus, I surrender myself to you, take care of everything.
Immediately Before the Retreat
As I enjoyed a quick dinner in the cafeteria of the retreat center, a man from the men’s retreat team approached me and I could tell by his raised eyebrows something was amiss. “We’ve got men arriving and their letter said that they didn’t need to bring bedding but there’s no bedding in the bunkhouse.” My stomach immediately dropped. I was the one who sent the letters.
How could I have mixed up that important detail? Did I just ruin this retreat for all these men? Where was I going to find bedding for them?
Jesus, I surrender myself to you, take care of everything.
Following the Surrender
With each of these anxieties, things ended up working out perfectly fine. It snowed all weekend, but the roads were dry by the time we traveled home. My vice-coordinator couldn’t be there, but everyone pitched in to help fulfill her duties and our music coordinator, a past coordinator for the weekend, became my steady right-hand. A couple guys from the men’s team and I quickly stripped several of the empty beds in the women’s lodge to provide bedding for the men before the retreats began. It all worked out perfectly fine – and all of it was out of my control. (To be fair, the letter that went to the men was once in my control but long out of my control by the time the men started arriving sans-bedding.)
Abiding in Surrender
These moments of surrender, all of which occurred prior to the retreat even beginning, laid the groundwork for a weekend spent abiding in a state of surrender. Each time I’d catch a glimpse of the piling snow and feel anxiety begin to bubble up – Jesus, I surrender myself to you, take care of everything. Each time my heart sank at realization my dear and fantastically organized friend Cristy was home with the flu, rather than by my side where I wished she could be – Jesus, I surrender myself to you, take care of everything. Each time I worried about what other details I might have forgotten – Jesus, I surrender myself to you, take care of everything. Each time I felt the need to rush, the desire to control, the worry about being behind schedule, the anxiety of what was yet to come – Jesus, I surrender myself to you, take care of everything.
What were once perceived as unexpected tsunamis, capable of tearing me apart, became the gentle waves that slowly rocked me to sleep in a state of rejuvenating rest in the Lord. Upon releasing my anxieties and need to control, I was no longer bound to the past or the future, instead, I was allowed to float freely in the present moment and for the first time in a while, admire the treasure set before me.
Surrendering to the Infinite Now
“Forever is composed of nows” – the opening line to an Emily Dickinson poem – has always been one of my favorite quotes. However, it’s not until this past weekend, with its continuous deepening of surrender, that I truly came to know what this means in relation to my relationship with God. With each act of surrender, I began to realize how often I waste the present moment by choosing to live in a state of anxiety, needing control, or even premature nostalgia.
At lunchtime on Sunday, I trekked through snow and up a lookout tower to get a glimpse of one of my favorite views. As I looked out over the snow-covered lake, I pulled my phone out and snapped a picture, wanting to capture the moment. Looking at my phone screen, I scrunched my nose in displeasure when the photo didn’t do justice to the strikingly gorgeous scene before me. The photo on my screen looked flat and lifeless but the landscape before my eyes was so vibrant with God’s beauty that it brought tears to my eyes. Then it hit me: perhaps God intends the beauty of this landscape, this moment, to be savored right now, in real life, rather than through a picture at a later date. So, I put my phone away and spent a few minutes just taking it all in, this present moment God had planned for me long before I came to be.
As we drove home that evening on dry roads, I thought about what a shame it would have been if I had wasted the weekend worried about the weather only for things to turn out completely fine.
I thought about the gift of the present moment, a gift I did not expect to receive over the weekend, but a gift so precious, I could cry.
The Treasure of the Present Moment
The present moment is like a gold-dipped leaf, glittering beautifully in the sunlight as it slowly approaches us in the current of life. God never ceases to share with us the magnificence of the present moment, floating slowly enough for us to reach out and grab, if only we’d release our grip from everything else to which we try to cling. How often do we fail to see this beaming gift, our eyes filled with tears weeping at what’s downstream, that which once “was” and is now nearly out of sight? How often do we daydream about what’s to come, so fixed on what’s upstream but not yet close enough to touch, that we miss the beautiful treasures God has placed at our feet, failing to see them before they float away? How often do we reach longingly for what was and what is yet to be, when God simply wants us to embrace what is?
The treasure of the present moment is a little taste of Heaven – where God exists in the infinite now. Each present moment is an opportunity to enjoy that which He has ordained for us to experience in that exact moment – the beautiful lake, the necessary lesson, the opportunity to trust. The present is where God desires to make His presence known, not sometime in the past or at a future date, but tangibly in the current, beautiful “now.” One of many nows that prepare us on our journey to the Infinite Now we were made for.
Oh Lord, how can I expect to live in Heaven with you forever in the Infinite Now, if I can’t abide with you in the present now? How can I reach my highest self, the ultimate me you created me to be and take part in your plan for salvation, if I fail to grasp the treasures you send downstream to me? Help me to surrender all that prevents me from enjoying the treasure of the present moment.
Lord, help me to abide with you and in you, peacefully surrendered, in the present, the Infinite Now.
Interested in surrendering to the Infinite Now? Check out the Surrender Novena which helped me tremendously!
