This is one of my favorite places on earth.
It is a Catholic retreat center that just so happens to be near our home.
I grew up Catholic, and still am in many ways,
so it is very comforting at times to return to its rhythms and familiarity.
I took all these pictures five years ago
on a brief personal retreat there, while Finch was out of town.
Thoughts of motherhood and the hardships in Ethiopia were on my mind.
One month later, we received our first pictures of Bagu and Zeefa.
I haven't been back yet for a solo retreat, but the cubs and I have been many times since.
And, during her visits, Nana goes to daily Mass here, whenever it is offered.
I think she might actually love it more than I do.
It holds special meaning for all of us.
Our first year home with the cubs, we managed to get to church most weekends.
But, we were relegated to the Cry Room due to attachment complexities.
*
We tried, oh how we tried, to make the transition
into our Children's Church program the second year.
However, attachment issues became attachment nightmares,
and the progress we had all worked so hard to make started going up in smoke.
*
All because church felt a little too much like an orphanage,
and a little boy felt like he was being abandoned forever ~ all over again.
*
I wish I could say I empathized with him as much as I should have.
Still, we decided that for a time, it was best to quit going to church altogether.
But then Nana and I got the idea to bring them here.
So, every once in awhile that year, the {very little} cubs and I would go,
just to sit in a pew in the very back and attend a brief daily Mass.
Then afterward, we would explore the peaceful surrounding grounds
and {of course} climb on all the statues and benches and stuff.
*
The spunky, old ladies who regularly attended each Mass were very kind,
and even sought us out a couple of times when they saw us around town,
which helped me feel a little less mortified about all the noise
and chaos that surrounded us wherever we went.
It was an oasis, of sorts, during those long, dark days
when I wasn't sure if we were going to make it.
And, at the end of that year, we were able to get back to our church.
It was still a rocky transition, but we made it.
It's a good lesson for me to go back and revisit now during this season
of feeling as if progress is again moving at a glacial pace, at best.
There is another small lesson for me to remember during times like this.
{And in it, one of the reasons I love looking at life through a lens.}
At the back of the sanctuary, there is a large, wooden door
and in
it, this small window:
All of the blurry pictures in this set are the result of
pressing my lens up against various panes in the little window
and focusing on the corridor just beyond the door.
Sometimes, the funk that obscures your view
makes what's ahead more beautiful
with the right perspective.
Oh how I love this place.
