Men's Retreat Reflection

Men’s Retreat Reflection By: Elliott Bostrom

On a Friday afternoon in late September, I met with a couple other gentlemen to carpool down to the Abiding Hope Men’s Retreat without much more than an open heart. I wasn’t sure why I had said “yes” to participating, other than a feeling that it was something I needed but wanted to avoid. On the drive down, I enjoyed getting to know the guys I was driving with. When we arrived at camp, we unloaded the car, got settled, and off we went. I maintained my openness through all the activities and sessions and my emotional experience ran the spectrum: excitement, freedom, peace, surrender, fear, joy, relief, compassion, sorrow, vulnerability, and strength. But a couple moments in particular stood out.

I was on “walkabout,” wandering a nearby trail trying to get in touch with my inner child (which is tough to do when you feel like you were born a grown-up). As I was walking, I came upon an old tree alongside the path. I stopped. There was something about that tree that made me pause. I stood there for a moment and suddenly felt the urge to lean against it, as if the tree was calling me to do so. As soon as my shoulder rested on the tree I immediately broke down. I didn’t really understand why, but I let the tears fall anyway. I stayed there for a few minutes, letting the tears run their course, and then proceeded on my “walkabout.” Later that day, I found myself clinging for dear life to the shoulders of two other gentlemen as we navigated the high ropes course. High up in the air, walking on thin, wobbly wires and free-swinging beams, I was utterly terrified. Plus, there was an additional

challenge: I had to make it through the course with two other guys. There were several occasions when we were on the cusp of falling, but we made it. While we made it together, I left the course feeling like the other guys did more to pull me through it rather than me pulling my own weight.

My experience at this men’s retreat indeed revealed something I needed to see. I broke down at that tree because I needed to lean on something, to let something else bear the weight. My experience on the high ropes course was so impactful, not because I had overcome some fear, but because, at times, someone else had to literally hold or pull me up as I was falling.

Most of the time, it seems that I am the one who is leaned on or the one that pulls the other up. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, but I entered men’s retreat believing I needed neither. I am not an exception, though. I too have burdens which I cannot bear alone. Sometimes, I need to be the one leaning, to be the one lifted up.

I left men’s retreat both humbled and energized, but no longer able to believe I can live as an island unto myself. That has made the weeks that have followed challenging. I still struggle to reach out when I need help, encouragement, or support, but then I remember that tree; I remember the guys that pulled me up on the high ropes course. While I have struggled to go forward, I know I can’t go back.