A Different Kind of Getting to Know You Exercise

Let me remember to record a really neat getting to know you exercise that we did the first night at the Create in Me retreat.  It's something that could be modified for non-retreat groups, and I'll give some ideas at the end of the post.

Advent

Our retreat theme was "Nature, Imagination, and Liturgy," so our opening exercise revolved around the liturgical seasons:  Advent, Christmas, Epiphany, Lent, Holy Week, Easter, Pentecost, and Ordinary Time.  

Epiphany

When we checked in, we had a nametag with a piece of colored paper in it--we sat at the table that had a larger sheet of colored paper that matched the color in the name tag.  It was a great way to make sure that we mingled new folks with returning folks.

Lent

The color of the paper matched the liturgical season (purple for Lent, for example).  We had a sheet of facts about the season, along with a small, blank banner.

Christmas

There was a table of all sorts of supplies.  Our project was to make a banner that matched the season, along with a song or prayer or poem.  We only had 20 minutes.

Ordinary Time

I admit that I was skeptical at first, as we sat there, every table staring blankly at the blank banner.  But it was a room of creative people, so soon we sprung into motion.  The energy level and discussion level rose.

Pentecost

When we were finished, we went around the room, explaining the banners and presenting our song or prayer or poem.  I was impressed with what we created--and impressed with how this exercise helped us get to know each other through a joint task and some friendly competition.

Easter

Could I create a non-religious variation for the first week in class?  I've used getting to know you Bingo, which is good.  The banner creating meant that people didn't have to move around the room and approach strangers, which is a plus for a lot of people.

Holy Week

I have a vision of this exercise, but with secular holidays and seasons, along with the holiday of Christmas, which is universal for my students.  Could non-creative students rise to the challenge?  I think they could.  Let me tuck this idea away.

Meditation on This Sunday's Gospel

 The readings for Sunday, April 26, 2026:

First Reading: Acts 2:42-47

Psalm: Psalm 23

Second Reading: 1 Peter 2:19-25

Gospel: John 10:1-10


In this week's Gospel, Christ mixes metaphors a bit, talking about sheep and calling himself a doorway for the sheep to find pasture. He also warns of thieves and robbers, and we might ask ourselves who are modern day thieves and robbers? Who are the ones who would lead us astray?

Well, there are lots of contenders, aren't there? But the ones I'm finding most insidious these days are all the electronic activities which steal so much of our time away from us. I see more and more people bent over their phones, oblivious to the world around them.

You don’t believe me? Try an Internet fast and see what happens. Could you go for a day without logging on? Could you go for a week?  How long can you go without touching your phone?

These days, many of us rely on the Internet as we shift our work and education activities to be online so that we can work remotely. In some ways, it's a wonderful thing. In some ways, it robs us further of time and attention.

We might tell ourselves that we use our online time to stay connected to family and friends, and I will admit that it’s easier to stay in touch with some people via Facebook and/or texting than it was with e-mail or old-fashioned paper letters. Often, I find myself wondering how my friends and family are REALLY doing.

But do I take the time to ask?  Do I write to them or call?   No. I’m too busy racing off to the next Internet diversion.

We might tell ourselves that the Internet allows us to stay current with what’s happening in the world, and in some ways, it’s a wonderful thing. I can read newspapers from all over the world, often for the price of my Internet connection. Not only that, I can read the opinions of others about those articles. In some forums, I can trade ideas with people. But all of that staying current comes with a price: it takes time away from other activities. Some of those displaced activities might be trading ideas with real people in a real conversation.

Very few of us will find real community via the Internet. We often think we don't have time because we're all very busy these days. But what is really sucking away our time? For some of us, it is, indeed, our jobs. For some of us, we're taking classes.  For many of us, it’s our Internet lives: we’ve got a lot of stuff to read, videos to watch, plus games to play, plus status updates, and all the information we can Google now, and so we do (whereas before, if it required a trip to the library, many of us would have stayed ignorant). 

And if you’re like me, once you’ve spent so much of your day staring at screens, you may find it hard to reconnect to humans at the end of the day. You may feel your brain gone fuzzy. You may find yourself irritable at these humans who demand that you respond. You may withdraw before you ever have/take/make time to reconnect.

The Internet also takes time away from our relationship with God. I’ve found useful websites that allow me to pray the Liturgy of the Hours, but for the most part, I’m not noodling around the Internet looking for ways to enhance my relationship with God—or with anyone else, for that matter. I suspect that if I’m brutally honest, even my relationship with myself suffers when I spend too much time on the Internet.

Now the Internet is not the only tool and resource that allows us to sidestep the hard work of relationship. Some of us drug ourselves with television or with spending more hours at work than the work requires or with the relentless pace of the activities that our children do (and need us to drive them to) or any of the other countless activities that humans use in ways that aren’t healthy.

These activities can not only keep us from relationship with humans but can deafen our ears to the voice of that shepherd that goes out looking for us. Our Bible tells us over and over that God yearns to be in relationship with us. But if we’re too busy for our families and friends, we’re likely not making time for God either.

So, try an Internet/phone sabbath, even if it’s just for a few hours a week. Try doing it every week. Talk to a loved one.  Read a book. Play an old-fashioned board game. Listen for the voice of God who calls to you across space and time. Answer.

A Tale of Three Butterflies

 For most Create in Me retreats, we have a community art project, something we can work on together.  Some times, the work stays at Lutheridge, like the cross as tall as a human, made of clear plastic, filled with broken things.  One year, we knotted a quilt for Lutheran World Relief.  This year, we made a huge butterfly, decorated with bits of nature.  I brought it back to my house because Lutheridge didn't really have a place for it, and it had so much glue on it that I wasn't sure it was a good idea to leave it beside a trail to decompose, as we had once thought we would do:

Here's what it looked like at worship yesterday:

It began as a series of fan blades.  Here's what it looked like when my spouse and I first constructed it last week:

I felt a keen sense of failure and despair at this early stage.  My friend on the planning team had sent me this picture when describing what the group had in mind and asking if my spouse could build the base for it:

I wrote to my friend to tell her that we might not have created what she had in mind.  She wrote back the most perfect reply:  "It will look just as it should--a unique community effort."  I so needed those words, to know that I hadn't let the team down.

In the end, I like what we created better.  One friend used the leftover dried flowers that she created for her drop in station.  We used some of the leftover wood circles that had been cut for a prayer project.  We used interesting bits that people found during outdoor time.  

And in the end, yes, it looked just the way it needed to look--many good life lessons/reminders here.

Long Lasting Labyrinth Made of Braids

Yesterday, I posted this picture after we finished setting up the labyrinth at the chapel at Lutheridge:

Early on, the Create in Me retreat ended with closing worship and a labyrinth walk.  We have occasionally used the labyrinth that was created at the old tennis court, but it's not very accessible--and right now, it's still under downed trees.  So back in 2009, we created the braided strips that make the labyrinth.

How do I know that?  I went back to my blog and found this blog post that describes making the strips.  I also found this blog post which is a photo essay, and this post, which describes the experience of using the strips in words.

I have many reasons for why I continue to blog:  this ability to quickly find answers to the "what year was that?" or "how did this project go?" questions is one big reason why I keep blogging.

On the braided strips, we wrote prayers, along with gratitude and appreciation.  This morning, I thought about those prayers from 2009.  How many of them have been answered?  I thought about all of the people:  those of us we prayed for, those of us who did the praying.  Who is still alive?

I thought of all the ways we've used these long, braided strips:  for every Create in Me retreat since (almost 2 decades!).  Other retreats have used the braids, even non-Lutheridge retreats.  Other people have been inspired to try something similar.  I love that it's a budget friendly way to create a labyrinth.

It's a great metaphor for all the ways that our prayers and communities support us, even as the years and decades go on.  We braid our prayers together, in a variety of ways.  Those prayers braid us together, both immediately and through the years.  God, the master fabric artist, takes our offerings and weaves together our communities into an even more beautiful creation.

First Full Day of Create in Me

In some ways, the Create in Me retreat is the same from year to year:  Bible study in the morning, workshops, drop in stations with a wide variety of supplies and projects, worship and song, and of course, food and snacks (not all of which have this artist theme):

This retreat came with a coloring booklet and pencils on every table.  I haven't colored mine yet, because I might want to make copies.

Our theme is rooted in nature, so we've spent time in and with nature--including a nature walk yesterday.  We had 20 minutes to spend how we wanted, in nature, even if it was no further than steps from the door.  We had some questions to make us more intentional.

I went to my favorite tree, the maple between the Faith Center and the Dining Hall.  I spent time gazing and looking, looking close up, like I require my first year Composition students to do.  It was amazing.

I had a moment where I wanted to lie on the grass gazing up at the tree, but I decided it was unwise for many reasons.  I made an intentional decision not to take a camera or a notebook, to be fully present with the tree.

I love retreats for many reasons, but one reason is because it forces me to do what I say I want to do:  to be more present.

In the afternoon, we did worship planning.  I am always amazed how we come to the meeting at 3:30 with the barest bones of a worship service, and we have a fully-realized worship service prepared by the 6:45 start time.

We ended the day in the Faith Center, creating and talking.  It was a good day.  Of course, every Create in Me day is a good day--it's a foretaste of what could be. 

The Beginning Hours of a Retreat

Last night, the Create in Me retreat started.  It's interesting to see the contrast between this retreat and the Quilt Camp retreat three weeks ago.  It's always startling to walk into the Faith Center and to see all the visual elements of the Create in Me retreat:  stuff on every wall (all pleasing, but lots of stuff), various spots where people can sit apart from the tables, empty tables, tables with arts and crafts supplies, and tables for food and drink.  The Quilt Camp retreat begins with less visual stuff happening, but by the end of the retreat, it, too, has lots of visual elements competing for attention.

These pictures give you a sense, but one photo can't capture the effect of the whole room:

With each retreat, I begin by feeling a bit overwhelmed:  so much I could do, so many people to see.  It's also a bit discombobulating to be on retreat now, when it's so hard to feel like I'm really away.  When I first went on retreats as an adult, the idea was to be away, so there was no internet access.  I didn't have to feel like I needed to stay connected on any level because it wasn't possible.

And it's also different now because I live less than a mile away.  In so many ways, it's more delightful to be nearby.  But it's harder to feel as much on retreat.

For this retreat, I'm not trying to get back to Spartanburg to teach in person.  For the March Quilt Camp, I did try to do both, which I will try not to do in the future.  But in March, I felt like I couldn't take that time, because I had just been away. 

That feeling comes from me, not from the people in charge at my school.  I am so lucky to be in a place where we are encouraged to do professional development, and our choices aren't second guessed or undercut.  Very lucky.

Pioneer Scholars and a Hope for the Future

Yesterday was Pioneer Scholars Day at Spartanburg Methodist College, our first ever.  Last year, we had a smaller, precursor event, where students had time to present posters they had created for a class project.  For those of you who go to academic conferences, you're probably familiar with posters as a way to present research.  If the idea of a poster is unfamiliar, think of the posters you might have made for school projects, but more sophisticated in appearance (i.e. not made with markers and glue) with proper citations of research.

The presentation of posters was still a big part of Pioneer Scholars Day.  In addition, in the morning, we had panel presentations, and an art display.  I was judge for the art display.  During the other morning  events, I heard a panel of papers written for History classes and later in the morning, students presenting their musical compositions on a iPad app.

In the afternoon, graduating seniors presented their capstone projects, a wide variety of work.  The day culminated in a late afternoon celebration of graduates, with happy hour type food.

I signed up for the morning shift, so I didn't stay for the afternoon events.  I was very glad to have a chance to be part of the morning shift.   It was so wonderful to see students presenting their work in a variety of ways--and wonderful to see the variety of work.

Although I went to Newberry College, a small, liberal arts college, I have spent most of my teaching life in other types of schools.  I've found kindred spirits there, particularly in schools that had an English major.  It's refreshing to be teaching in a school where the value of having a diverse education, of becoming a well-rounded human, is a value we all support.  

A few weeks ago, as I was walking to my car, I saw this tire cover on a jeep, with a reference to Thoreau:

Not for the first time, I reflected on how lucky I am to be here, at this point in my life.  Teaching these students, most of them no older than 21, makes me feel hopeful for the future--these students will be able to figure it out, no matter what the future holds for them.