Lou and I hosted our second Creative Selah at the end of May. Mid-winter, we booked a larger place in Donnelly, Idaho and were able to open our retreat to 12 participants. It booked up fast, and we began eagerly planning, reading, listening to inspirational podcasts, and meeting every week to pray over the upcoming Selah, and individuals coming. And then Covid happened, and it felt like all of our carefully laid plans were crumpled up into a sloppy wad and tossed into a trash can.
For over a month we didn't know if we were going to be able to even host a Selah, and all of our planning was set aside as we navigated this new season, regulations, fears and unknowns with our families.
The weekend of our planned retreat, we were given the green light to still host our small group when the state moved to Phase 2, and the cabin hosts approved our stay. Lou and I scrambled to plan the last minute loose ends, and by the time we pulled into the driveway of the property we had reserved, we were both more than a little surprised and relieved to be there.
A lot of the research and what we thought would be relevant to the spring Selah felt empty, and hollow. Our jobs and vision for this particular Selah had been whittled down to a few scriptures, one poem, and simple marching orders: buy some groceries, hold the space. In a way, it was a relief and something we could wrap our minds around. We could make food, and set the initial tone for pause and intentional soul rest, and then watch and see how God would meet us with stillness, rejuvenation, peace, and renewed vision.
We thought we would share the two verses and poem here for all of you either as a reminder if you were a participant back in May, or as encouragement to those of you who weren't able to make it, or are curious about the message of the Selah.
The first verse was Matthew 28-30 (MSG)
"Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.”
Tired, worn out, burned out. Yeah, that summed up our group. But we also believed that God was inviting us to experience a real rest. Our hope was that within the pause and still space, something would spark. Maybe it would show up in a creative form, or maybe it would be the germination of learning unforced rhythms of grace.
The second scripture was Psalm 23(MSG):
God, my shepherd!
I don’t need a thing.
You have bedded me down in lush meadows,
you find me quiet pools to drink from.
True to your word, you let me catch my breath
and send me in the right direction.
Even when the way goes through Death Valley,
I’m not afraid when you walk at my side.
Your trusty shepherd’s crook
makes me feel secure.
You serve me a six-course dinner
right in front of my enemies.
You revive my drooping head;
my cup brims with blessing.
Your beauty and love chase after me
every day of my life.
I’m back home in the house of God
for the rest of my life.
This is what we wanted the Selah to be; lush meadows, a quiet pool, a six-course feast, all while knowing that God's love and beauty had chased us and found us here in this place.
And finally, we wanted to carry this poem by Judy Brown back with us as we each experienced re-entry in our lives. It's a reminder to be intentional with what we pack into our lives. How do we maintain momentum, the clarity we may have received, or keep our creative vision alive? We pay attention to the spaces and logs in our lives. We need breathing room, Selah, so that our fire is not quenched.
"Fire" by Judy Brown
What makes a fire burn
is space between the logs,
a breathing space.
Too much of a good thing,
too many logs
packed in too tight
can douse the flames
almost as surely
as a pail of water would.
So building fires
requires attention
to the spaces in between,
as much as to the wood.
When we are able to build
open spaces
in the same way
we have learned
to pile on the logs,
then we can come to see how
it is fuel, and absence of the fuel
together, that makes fire possible.
We only need to lay a log
lightly from time to time.
A fire
grows
simply because the space is there,
with openings
in which the flame
that knows just how it wants to burn
can find its way.
Judy Brown, from The Sea Accepts All Rivers
This fall, we will host our third Selah at Wallowa Lake, Oregon. As we move forward with planning this next retreat, our vision for it is sharpening into focus. Brene Brown’s definition of stillness is what we want to be at the heartbeat of each Selah. She writes, “Stillness is not about focusing on nothingness; it’s about creating a clearing. It’s opening up an emotionally clutter-free space and allowing ourselves to feel and think and dream and question.”
We hope you will join us this fall as we carve out space to let the things we’ve been out running catch up to us, as we process, dream, create, reset, and connect. For more information, you can Direct Message Lou or I on our Instagram pages (@amandatwil or @loudrey), leave a comment on this blog post, or Message us over on Facebook ( Amanda Twilegar or Lou Drey)
Join us on the journey, soak in the beauty of Wallowa Lake, and feast on good food with friends.