05/04/2026
Anticipation. A retreat at a stunning venue. Kindness oozing from staff and volunteers. Rocking chairs on decks and porches, allowing women to just soak in all that surrounded them. I laughed at the geese waddling around, on their daily strolls, presuming it seemed, to be the owners of the property. Some ladies had received scholarships to attend. Others had saved for months to afford the travel.
There was much planned… nationally known keynote speakers, breakout sessions, comfort-food meals, and a craft room with simple creation experiences. And all were given permission to attend as many of the events as they wished… or as few. They could just “be” if they chose and for many of these ladies, “just being” wasn’t a choice they’d been given in recent years. That permission felt like gold.
Most of these ladies didn’t arrive at this retreat for a long weekend away. They arrived for survival. For connection. For a sliver of hope.
All of the sessions were about healing, in some form or another. Some were primarily spiritual, others more clinical. They were validating of the experiences the ladies had endured from childhood trauma to marital abuse. They told of paths toward healing. Some session leaders taught those of us attending, who had found hope, how we could walk along side with those who were in earlier phases… trying to escape abuse, or in early stages of reclaiming their lives, stolen by abuse.
We met strangers…and talked like old friends. Almost every conversation progressed from:
1) introduction
2) where are you from? (all over, met women from many states, and from other countries). 3) do you have kids? (Almost all did)
4) and then, in some way…. A snippet of their stories. Many times, tears came then. Some were raw with grief. Others were confident with resolve…. And there was everything in between. There was listening. There were lots of “me, toos.” There was laughter, sometimes at absurdity of how abusive partners had behaved, sometimes at silly things that just broke up some of the sorrow.
This retreat held different meaning for each of the nearly 500 attendees. For me, it was confirmation. It verified that my own healing was real, solid and dramatic. That it is now my turn to walk with others. But also that it is my turn to live, healed and hopeful. We pass it on. We can’t do it for another, but we can be there to witness each stage of a path none of us would have chosen. We can empathize and cheer them on. We can be examples.
Press on. ♥️
