Tom is gone for three days. No, not fishing, although that would have been a logical guess. Actually, he is down near the Twin Cities attending a silent auction.
Aw, NUTS! I did it again. Tom is not in the Twin Cities attending a silent auction. He’s at a silent retreat.
Why do I keep doing that?
Yesterday, Tom and three other men from our church got into a car and drove to Demontreville near Lake Elmo where they are attending a silent retreat—not a silent auction.
I can’t tell you how many times in the past 24 hours I have flashed a mental picture of Tom walking around a table, adding his name to the bid list: ‘Oooooh! $25 for a Joe Mauer autographed bat,’ or ‘John, did you see these crocheted pot holders? They’re already up to $7.50. Do you think that’s too much? Should I put in a bid?’
‘No!’ I’ll tell myself sharply. ‘Silent retreat—not silent auction.’
Jesuits silently praying in a chapel. Men listening to inspirational speakers and learning how to practice the spiritual exercises of St. Ignatius Loyola.
Nobody is bidding on Joe Mauer bats and crocheted pot holders.
Gosh, I wish I could get that out of my head: silent retreat, silent retreat, silent retreat. Tom is at a silent retreat!
Although I could use some new potholders.