Teddy, Father José, and I taking in the stunning view at the retreat house. In front of the cross lay the beach and behind lagoons and mountians.

Reatreat

For our January retreat this year, we journeyed to Sangrelaya, about five hours east of the Finca. Father Juan and José, two missionary priests from Slovakia, welcomed us to their retreat center—a place that can only be described as Eden, perhaps with a Caribbean twist.

In front of the property, powerful waves crashed along the shore—far more dramatic than the calm bay we’re used to. Behind it stretched a lake with winding channels, home to countless birds, crocodiles, and even sloths. Surrounded by God’s wild and beautiful creation, it felt natural to be like children. Whether paddling through the channels in a canoe or playing an enthusiastic game of tackle football in the ocean waves, joy came easily this week.

The foot of the Cross is where I most often find comfort in prayer. During this retreat, Jesus showed me a new perspective within that place of imaginative prayer.

I love the mission of the Finca and experience a tangible joy here. Yet alongside that joy is a quiet sorrow—because of the stories our children carry. As missionaries, we are not informed of their pasts; their histories are kept confidential. But sometimes, through conversations or certain behaviors, glimpses of trauma surface. And I’ve noticed that among the objectively devastating things I’ve witnessed or heard, some stories affect me more deeply than others. In those moments, I sense Jesus inviting me to remain there with Him in prayer.

When trauma involves motherhood, it touches something especially tender in my heart. Because our children are separated from their parents for various reasons, the absence of their mothers often weighs quietly on me. And this is where Mother Mary finds me. I have always found comfort in her mantle, but living here at the Finca has brought a whole new meaning.

While we were on retreat, Fr. Matt—who supports us spiritually at the Finca—shared in a virtual reflection that at the foot of the Cross, Mary could do nothing but weep. That image has stayed with me. The foot of the Cross is where I return, especially in times of sorrow or distress. It is a safe place to be broken, weeping, and empty-handed. And who do I find beside me but His mother? Not only do I find her, but our Finca children as well. My prayer is that each of them truly knows how deeply they are loved. With this desire, I can only entrust them to Our Mother, who loves in ways far beyond what I can give. Here, at the foot of the Cross, there is peace.