Reflections From The First Soul, Mind and Body Retreat
When God places something on your heart, you naturally want it to be beautiful. You pray over every detail, spend countless hours planning and imagine how peaceful and meaningful everything will feel when people finally arrive. That is what I wanted for the first Soul, Mind and Body Retreat. I wanted the women to walk into a place that felt restful, luxurious, healing and deeply intentional. I wanted every detail to reflect love.
Instead, by the time the retreat arrived, I felt like everything around me was unraveling. I could barely breathe. I thought I would explode.
When Everything Started Falling Apart
The weeks leading up to the retreat were filled with stress, unexpected setbacks and what honestly felt like spiritual attacks from every direction. Nothing was going as planned.
The chapel was finally installed one week before the retreat, the pool liner that was replaced didn’t fit, the Confessional screen came the day the retreat started, some items broke, some items were missing, it seemed unreal.
Then during the retreat…elecrical fuses were popping, plumbing was backing up in one building, the chef became emotional and the food reflected it. Then the priest arrived 45 minutes late for Mass and I couldn’t help but realize that I was slowly breaking down.
Things were unfinished, disorganized and completely outside my control. I kept trying to hold everything together while silently panicking inside.
I had envisioned a peaceful, beautiful weekend where every detail reflected excellence and care. Instead, I found myself scrambling to adjust to problems I could not fix. The more I tried to manage everything, the more overwhelmed I became.
Deep down, I felt like I was failing.
But nothing weighed on me more heavily than the bedrooms.
The Bedrooms That Broke Me
The retreat was supposed to feel like a peaceful and pampering experience for the women attending. I had beautiful plans for the en-suites to be a sanctuary of beauty, privacy and peace.
A man had been building custom beds, headboards, wardrobes and nightstands, but by the time the retreat began, only the bed frames were finished. The worst part was he didn’t tell me until the evening the retreat began.
That was it, I felt like I was punched in the gut.
The women slept on bed frames with a mattress on top. The lamps sat on the floor because there were no nightstands. There were no wardrobes, so everyone lived out of their suitcases for the weekend. Every time I walked by one of those rooms, I felt embarrassed and heartsick.
I kept thinking, “This is not what I promised them. This is not how this was supposed to look.”
I wanted the women to feel cared for and pampered. Instead, I felt like I had let them down. The unfinished rooms became a visible reminder of all the things that were beyond my control.
The Ugly Cry of Surrender
At one point, the pressure finally broke me. I completely fell apart. Not a composed tear rolling down my face type of cry, but the kind of deep, painful crying where you can barely catch your breath. The kind of ugly cry you hope nobody sees.
I had spent so much energy trying to fix everything, trying to manage every problem, trying to make the experience perfect for everyone and I finally reached the end of myself.
In the middle of that breakdown, I remember saying out loud, “I give up.”
I was not giving up on the retreat. I was giving up trying to control everything. I was surrendering my need for perfection. Deep down, I realized I had been carrying a burden God never asked me to carry.
While I was focused on all the things that were unfinished, Heaven was moving powerfully through the retreat in the women’s souls anyway.
Trust in the Lord with all your heart, on your own intelligence do not rely; In all your ways be mindful of him, and he will make straight your paths (Proverbs).
Heaven Moved Anyway
Over 150 first-class relics were brought into that sacred space. The Saints surrounded us like family. Women knelt before relics with tears streaming down their faces as they prayed and poured out their hearts to God while touching everything they could to them.
The Sacrament of Confession became a place of deep healing and freedom. Women walked in carrying shame, wounds, anxiety, grief and exhaustion, and walked out lighter and filled with tears. They all said Fr. Michael was like a little Angel and loved his healing heart.
During Adoration, the chapel became so still and reverent that you could almost feel hearts opening before Jesus. Some women remained kneeling in the silence and quietly wept before the Blessed Sacrament.
At Mass, despite the delays and chaos surrounding the weekend, Christ still came to us fully in the Eucharist. Heaven touched earth in that little chapel, not because everything was perfect, but because Jesus was there.
Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest (Gospel of Matthew).
No production could have created those moments. No luxury accommodations could have transformed hearts the way Christ did that weekend. God’s presence filled the retreat in a way I will never forget.
They Remembered Jesus
What moved me most was the response of the women themselves. Not one person complained about the unfinished rooms. Not one acted entitled or frustrated. Instead, they were gracious, patient and deeply grateful. They were laughing and joking as they said this is their sacrifice for the weekend. They embraced the retreat with openness and humility. Most of them cried as they shared what God had done in their hearts over the weekend.
One by one, women came to me sharing stories of healing, freedom and transformation. Some encountered the love of the Father in a way they never had before. Others finally surrendered burdens they had been carrying for years or received answers they were seeking.
Listening to them, I slowly realized something profound: the things I thought would ruin the retreat were not even the things they remembered.
They remembered Jesus.
That realization humbled me deeply. I had spent so much time worrying about appearances, details, timelines and expectations. Meanwhile, God was doing what only He can do: transforming hearts.
But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.’ I will rather boast most gladly of my weaknesses, in order that the power of Christ may dwell with me (Corinthians II)
God Works Through Imperfect Things
We often think God works best through polished plans, strength and perfection. But throughout Scripture, God continually works through weakness, poverty, surrender and dependence on Him.
Moses doubted himself, Peter failed repeatedly, the Apostles were fearful and imperfect men and yet God moved powerfully through every one of them.
This retreat felt like an “earthen vessel” in the deepest sense.
But we hold this treasure in earthen vessels, that the surpassing power may be of God and not from us (Second Letter to the Corinthians).
The retreat itself felt cracked and unfinished in so many ways. And yet grace flooded every corner of it. Looking back now, I can see that perhaps God allowed things to feel imperfect so none of us would mistake the source of what happened there. No perfectly finished room, flawless schedule or luxury detail could heal hearts the way Jesus did that weekend.
Throughout the retreat, I also kept thinking about Our Lady. Mary did not have perfect circumstances when she said yes to God. She did not have complete understanding or control over the future. She simply surrendered herself completely to His will.
Mary said, ‘Behold, I am the handmaid of the Lord. May it be done to me according to your word.’ Then the angel departed from her (Luke)
That is what God was teaching me during this retreat: surrender.
Not passive surrender, but the kind that releases control and trusts that God can still work even when circumstances are messy, painful, incomplete or disappointing. I learned that ministry is not about creating perfection. It is about making room for Christ.
Sometimes we are so busy trying to manage every outcome that we leave no room for God to move. This retreat reminded me that God does not ask us to carry the impossible weight of being in control of everything. He asks us to trust Him. He asks us to keep showing up, keep serving, keep loving and keep surrendering even when things are not unfolding the way we hoped.
After the Storm Came Peace
When the retreat finally ended and everyone went home, everything became quiet again. For the first time in weeks, I stopped moving. I stopped planning, fixing, setting up, answering questions and carrying the emotional weight of the weekend. I simply sat there in the silence and took a deep breath.
And in that moment, I felt something I had not felt in so long.
Peace.
Not because everything had gone perfectly. It had not. All I could think about was how faithful God had been through every imperfect moment.
I picked up my rosary and began praying a Rosary of gratitude.
With each Hail Mary, my heart felt lighter. The anxiety that had weighed so heavily on me before the retreat slowly gave way to joy and deep thanksgiving.
I thought about the women crying in Adoration, the healing that took place in Confession, the reverence during Mass, and the countless quiet moments where Jesus touched hearts in ways I could never orchestrate myself.
And for the first time all weekend, I allowed myself to simply receive.
I felt God’s presence so deeply in that silence. Not in dramatic emotion, but in a quiet, steady way that filled my soul with peace.
It felt as though the Lord was gently reminding me, “See what I can do when you finally let Me carry it. Do not forget, Kendra, the theme of this retreat!”
Be still and know that I am God (Psalm 46:10).
A Reflection for All of Us
I think many of us are carrying burdens God never asked us to carry. We exhaust ourselves trying to make everything perfect: our families, our ministries, our homes, our work, our image, our future. We convince ourselves that if we could just fix everything, then peace would come.
But maybe God is waiting for our surrender more than our perfection.
Maybe the very thing you are grieving right now, the thing that feels unfinished, disappointing, messy or beyond your control, is the exact place where God wants to meet you most deeply.
The retreat taught me something I will never forget: Jesus does not wait for everything to look beautiful before He shows up.
He enters the mess. He fills the cracks. He brings peace into unfinished places.
And sometimes His greatest work begins the moment we finally stop trying to hold everything together ourselves.
So if your life feels unfinished right now, if things are not going according to plan, if you are exhausted from trying to control outcomes you were never meant to control, perhaps God is inviting you to do what I finally did that weekend:
Take a deep breath.
Lay it down.
And let Him be God.
If you are interested in attending one of the Soul, Mind and Body Retreats, the bedrooms are finished! Ha! May God bless you and Mary Keep you.
