The Mandala of Healing: A Retreat Beyond Expectations.

This is the Mandala I created today during the self-care and mental health day we attended. I always walk into these experiences with a list of expectations, only to find that what unfolds is far richer than anything I could have imagined. I thought we’d be part of group sessions filled with deep sharing, tears, and stories carried on the tide of vulnerability. Instead, we were given a few powerful insights on psychological and emotional well-being, a list of tools for self-care, and then—freedom.

There were spaces prepared for us: a journaling room, a crafting area, a place to exercise, another to rest, and cozy nooks for reading. The smell of coffee and the comfort of food welcomed us. And, of course, there were chapels—sanctuaries of quiet where the soul could breathe. I love chapels. They are places where time slows down, where the weight of sickness, exhaustion, and uncertainty falls away, leaving only gratitude and an overwhelming awareness of love.

Brian’s Experience: Learning to Rest in the Silence

Brian came with me to this event. Unlike me, he had never attended a contemplative retreat before. His expectations were shaped by past experiences—structured group discussions, question-and-answer sessions, and moments of mutual support and shared burdens. I could sense his initial hesitation, that flicker of uncertainty in his eyes.

We have both been through many health challenges and as a fairly new couple, those challenges have woven themselves into the fabric of our relationship. Sadness, fatigue, and the quiet weight of the unknown sometimes creep into our daily lives. We hold on to each other, but there are days when we wonder if we will ever truly feel light again.

The day unfolded in its way, and Brian ended up napping. After a delicious lunch—soup, salad, roast pork with mushroom gravy, scalloped potatoes, and broccoli—he was ready for a rest. Brian doesn’t like broccoli or mushrooms, but he found a Jello cup for dessert, which brought a small but noticeable spark of delight. Later, we sat in the exquisite chapel together. He rested his head on the pew in front of him, eyes closed, simply being in the quiet. We stayed for quite some time, wrapped in stillness, in the presence of something greater than ourselves.

In his way, he was creating, reflecting, and perhaps healing. The absence of expectation, of structured dialogue, of needing to explain or perform—allowed him to settle into the experience.

The Mandala: A Reflection of Both of Us

As I traced the lines of my Mandala, I realized that what I had created wasn’t just a reflection of my experience—it was ours.

The Mandala tells a story of faith, surrender, and divine timing. The circle represents wholeness, the interconnected figures symbolize trust and relationship, and the celestial elements—the moons, stars, and shifting hues—speak of change, cycles, and the quiet presence of God in all things.

The words that came to me in Chapel #1 shaped my creative process:

• Mindset: Faith-filled = God-led; faithless = not God-led. The colors I chose reflect trust in God’s leading, even when the path is uncertain. Brian and I are still learning this—learning to step into the unknown, trusting that we don’t have to have all the answers.
• Provisions: Trust God or take matters into my own hands. Like the interconnected design of a Mandala, we are learning to trust God’s provision and not to control the outcome. Brian’s simple delight in the Jello at lunch was a tiny reminder that God provides, even in the smallest ways.
• Visions: Whose vision will I follow? The symmetry of the Mandala reflects clarity and direction, a reminder that when we align ourselves with God’s vision rather than our own, we step into something greater than we could imagine.
• Timing: It is my time! The phases of the moon, the movement of the figures—everything in the Mandala whispers that timing is sacred. God’s timing is perfect, even when we don’t understand it. Brian resting in the chapel, in that exact moment, was his time—his time to let go, his time to be still.
• Surrender: Control of the process. The Mandala is not rigid; it flows, it breathes. Brian and I both had to surrender our expectations of the retreat and in doing so, we received exactly what we needed.
• Shine, Jesus, Shine: The gold, the warmth, the balance—all these elements reflect the truth that, whether in silence or creativity, God’s light is present. Brian, resting in the chapel, was just as much a reflection of that light as my artistic expression.
• A Safe Environment: The Mandala, the retreat, the chapel, the quiet—it all mirrored what we both long for: safety. The safety to rest, to heal, to just be. This retreat gave us that. It wasn’t what either of us expected, but it was what we needed.

A Shared Journey Toward Healing

As I look at the Mandala now, I see more than colors and shapes. I see us. I see a story of two people navigating love, health, faith, and uncertainty, slowly learning to release the weight of expectation and step into something freer, and lighter.

Brian and I are learning that healing doesn’t always come in the ways we expect. Sometimes, it comes in a brushstroke, in the scent of coffee, in a deep breath taken in a quiet chapel. It comes in a shared meal, in an unexpected nap, in a hand resting gently on a pew. It comes in the spaces where we let go of control and allow ourselves to just exist together.

And that is enough.

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What About You?

Have you ever stepped into an experience with one set of expectations, only to find that what you truly needed was something entirely different?

Maybe, like Brian, you prefer structured conversations and guided solutions. Or perhaps you, like me, find solace in creativity and quiet reflection. Wherever you are on your journey, I encourage you to take a moment to pause. Breathe. Ask yourself:

• Where do I need to surrender control and trust God’s timing?
• Am I allowing myself space to rest, create, or just be?
• What unexpected ways might healing be waiting for me?

I’d love to hear from you—what experiences have surprised you and led to unexpected renewal? Share your thoughts in the comments or send me a message. Let’s continue this conversation about faith, healing, and the beauty of the unexpected.

Brian's details shared with permission.

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