You know how it goes: someone mentions Boethius' Consolation of Philosophy and you just can't help but react in the affirmative.
So there I was, the only 20-something in a crowd of roughly 80 people who were all closer to retirement than college graduation, trying to frat snap as the speaker continues on about examples of allegory.
That's when the longing hits me.
I missed the HRC, and everyone there at the retreat was looking for their own version of it.
One woman who flew all the way to Navasota, Texas from Maryland tells me she's been back several times because "these are my people." That same night at the Bag End Cafe, a small open-mic session at the end of the day, a man named Skip tells me from under his cowboy hat that he keeps coming back because he loves ideas, and he wants to talk to other people about ideas. The C. S. Lewis retreat is where he finds that. Early in the first day of the weekend retreat one of the directors asks everyone who has returned to the retreat and made a life-long friend there to stand up, and most of the room does. Some stood up exuberantly, and those that could not stood up on canes.
I won't be going back to the retreat. While I did indeed learn and I do think I made a new friend, it filled me with longing more than anything. These people in their 40's and 50's talked about companionship and amicability of fellow Lewis fans like this was the only place they had ever found it. I believe them. So many were looking for the very thing I had known and lived in for a solid three years - and here they had it, for a few days once a year.
How blessed I was to not find community at the C. S. Lewis retreat, knowing that I had already found it elsewhere!
This new phase of my life does not bring with it friendly notes on my door nor laughter at midnight. There are no keen ears for my schemes, no ready hands to bring them to life. I haven't been asked for advice on boys in months. I miss hearing Emma laugh.
While I might long for the blessing to be in the same
conference room with all of my dear friends again, dissing professors
and translations with playful smiles, at least I have known it. I have experienced intimately that feeling which so many others were looking for that weekend. And because I have known it, I recognize it when I see it.
I can't actually frat snap, but I tried. It was a pure, unadulterated reaction to hearing one of my most beloved books mentioned. Pure, silly joy.
It's the kind of reaction I'm going to have whenever I see any of you again.
