I recently had an overwhelming week at The Dale. Without getting into details, let’s just say I felt emotionally and spiritually spent. While it is not uncommon for my life to feel like a lot, I don’t often feel so downtrodden. Without even the words to describe what was going on in me, the discomfort of it all ballooned.

Before all of this happened, Cate asked if I would be willing to drive her, Matthew, and Declan up to the camp that they all attended and worked at for many summers. Though the three of them are not working there anymore (it’s a new stage of life!), they wanted to visit. I said yes. By the time our trip rolled around, I was especially tender. I didn’t know what I needed but was worried being surrounded by a lot of people at camp was not it. However, the trip went ahead as planned.

Whenever I drive north on Highway 400, I get pangs of nostalgia. My mom grew up in Sudbury, and my grandparent’s cottage was in Killarney. The red rock of the Canadian Shield, the swaying birch trees, and the water all bring me a degree of peace. A lot of the landmarks along the drive have changed, but not all of them- enough remain that bring up old memories.

When we arrived at the camp, I greeted people, found the cabin I would share with Cate, and explained that I would be going into Parry Sound for much of the day. As I drove along the gravel road, surrounded by forest, the lump that had been lodged in my heart for the majority of the week began to dislodge. I still didn’t have any words, just groans and tears. It was all its own kind of prayer.

I eventually got to the beach in town where I laid out a towel, sat and watched the waves, the sailboats, and the handful of children building sandcastles. One little person got into a game of tag with a seagull. I soaked in the sun, read a book in fits and starts, and eventually jumped in the water. As I floated around and stared at the clouds, I felt reminded of how the world keeps moving and growing, even when my own little piece of the world feels stalled and upside-down. I cried some more.

Over the course of the day I ate some food, watched pontoon planes land on the bay, and slowly walked around the docks. Eventually I decided it was time to head back to camp. The groans and tears that accompanied my drive into town, joined me again on that same gravel road. It felt both exhausting and cathartic. I wiped my face and rejoined the group in the late afternoon by settling into a couch in the lodge. From that vantage point I saw Cate working away as though she was still staff. I took a moment to admire the ease with which she was interacting with everyone. I listened to Declan play the keyboard and sing, something I loved doing when he was my housemate for a year. Matthew came to check on me with his characteristic concern and smile. I began to feel more grounded.

We only stayed at camp overnight and into the next day. Cate and I reunited with Dion and shared a good meal. As I reflect now, I think I needed the nostalgia of the highway, the connection to the landscape, the company of Cate and her crew, the alone time, and dinner with my family to find the words to describe my state.

It turns out I had experienced a deep level of hurt during my overwhelming week, and I wasn’t sure that I was allowed to feel it. Over the years, I have gathered up a lot of tools to manage the kind of work that I do. I have a high tolerance for and can help de-escalate heated situations. I feel equipped to practice active listening, which includes hearing about many traumatic things. I know God gives me strength that is not my own. And, I can only hold so much. In a sense, denying my hurt diminished my humanity.

As I write this, the fog I have been in is lifting and the hurt is dissipating. I am realizing that just as I need to ride the wave of grief when it hits, I need to address pain. When I do, the noise is calmed enough that I can again hear God’s voice, reminding me of where I have been called and that I am loved. Without even realizing it, I started to hear those truths whispered as I cried amongst the trees.