At the end of January, the four of us traveled down to the Ballyvaloo Retreat Center in Wexford for our mid-year retreat. We weren’t entirely sure what awaited us there, especially since we were responsible for leading the retreat ourselves. We spent the train ride in silence, each of us reading, listening to music, or attempting to sleep. I tried to admire the beautiful Irish countryside as it passed by, but because I was sitting in the aisle seat, I didn’t spend much time gazing out the window.
When we arrived at the train station in Wexford, we were excited to meet Fr. Denis, who drove us to the retreat center. He welcomed us warmly and helped us settle in. Later that evening, he celebrated Mass for us, grounding the start of our retreat in community prayer. Afterward, we turned in early; we knew the next day would require more emotional energy than usual.
The next two days were spent being honest and vulnerable in sometimes uncomfortable conversations that were always meaningful. Each of us led a session focused on our struggles and successes with faith, with an emphasis on how we navigate the balance of our individual faith lives with our professional ministry. These discussions challenged us to reevaluate how we approach our faith, especially when ministry begins to feel more like a job than a calling. Although these conversations were difficult at times, they deepened our trust in one another and strengthened our sense of shared purpose.
Between our sessions, we explored the grounds of the retreat center, spending most of our free time on the beach. Spending time on the beach offered a quieter kind of prayer, one that felt grounding in a way words often are not. We watched a beautiful sunset over the sea, collected a few shells as keepsakes, and took plenty of silly pictures that balanced out the heaviness of our conversations. Whether we were laughing together or sitting alone with our thoughts, the time felt intentionally unhurried.
The sunset over the beach in Wexford
I have struggled with my faith and often find myself questioning it. It’s in those quiet moments of reflection, particularly those surrounded by nature, where I am most aware of God’s loving presence. Back at home, I would take pictures of the sunset whenever I could. No two sunsets were ever alike, yet they were each beautiful in their own way. Those moments carried a sense of calm and reassurance that reminded me of God’s love. I felt the same stillness on the beach in Wexford, listening to the crashing of the waves on the shore and watching the setting sun paint the sky in streaks of red, yellow, and orange.
Overall, the retreat was not what we initially expected. In many ways, that made it even more meaningful. Leading the retreat ourselves forced us to rely on one another, step into vulnerability, and trust that we were capable of guiding both ourselves and each other. We left Wexford with a renewed sense of trust in one another and in the work we are called to do, and we hope to return to Wexford for another visit before our time with House of Brigid comes to a close.
