Almost 30 couples, seven crockpots, and a weekend on the Frio River we didn’t want to end
If you’ve never been to a couples retreat, I’d guess the picture in your head goes something like this. Folding chairs in a circle. A facilitator with a clipboard and a calm voice. Someone asking you to “share your feelings” while your spouse studies the ceiling. I’d be nervous too.
Here’s the thing, though. It wasn’t counseling. It was a big loving, sharing, laughing, crying kind of weekend, with a river. It’s called a retreat for a reason. A place to back up, breathe, think, and, oh yeah, relax. So let me show you what ours actually looked like, starting with a road trip and a very necessary nap.
The Fear Nobody Says Out Loud
Before we get to the river, let’s talk about why you haven’t gone yet. Most couples who’ve never done a retreat carry the same three worries, and they usually keep them to themselves.
The first is that going means something is wrong. That signing up is basically admitting your marriage needs a paramedic. The second is that everyone else will be doing great and you’ll be the only couple who bickered in the parking lot. The third is that somebody will make you hold hands and cry in front of people you’ve known for eleven minutes.
Here’s the short version of my answer. Going doesn’t mean your marriage is broken. It means you’d like it healthier, the same way going to the dentist doesn’t mean you have a cavity. You just like having teeth. Nobody is doing great, and I’ll get to that. And the hand-holding? You’re already married. You’ve held hands in worse places, like the DMV.
Getting There
Carrie and I left Springtown after work on Thursday, headed for our second annual couples retreat at the Frio River Escape Resort in Concan, Texas. We made it as far as Fredericksburg, got some sleep, and finished the drive Friday morning.
We pulled into Concan around nine or ten, ready to hit the ground running. Setup and unloading were waiting, and we were glad to see them.
Part of that was plain excitement. We’d watched the Holy Spirit show up at the last retreat, and once you’ve seen that, you don’t drive out to the next one casually. You go expecting Him to do it again.
A Quiet Resort and a Very Spiritual Nap
When we pulled in, the resort was quiet. Not much stirring at all. We found our cabin, unloaded what we’d brought, and then did the most productive thing two people can do after a long drive and a hotel night.
We took a quick nap. Then we waited for people to show up.
Then Shawn and Claudia Pulled In
Once Shawn and Claudia arrived, it was on. We helped unload the Servolution trailer and got the cabana ready for the weekend. People started arriving throughout the day, and we greeted every one of them.
That’s a part of the retreat you don’t see from the outside. Before there’s a program, there’s a group of people carrying stuff and getting a room ready. The weekend starts when the trailer opens.
Nervous? A Little. Not Much.
I’d love to say we were a bundle of nerves, because it would make a better story. We weren’t. We knew just about everybody there, and we do life with them. We see them at church on Sunday, at our Monday Couples Group meeting, and sometimes out as friends throughout the week. It’s hard to be nervous around people who have seen you on a Sunday, a Monday, and a random Wednesday at the grocery store. At this point we’re almost family.
I can’t even remember exactly how we felt before the first retreat. Very excited, I’d say, and maybe a little nervous, because of the unknown. That’s normal, and if you’re thinking about your first one, you’re allowed to feel the same way.
This time we had a couple of new couples with us, and it was awesome. They got loved on as if they’d always been there. I can’t promise that’s how it goes at every retreat everywhere. I can tell you what I watched at ours, and it looked a lot like people being folded into a family.
Seven Crockpots
We ate. Obviously. We ate very well.
Natalie threw together a crockpot lasagna, and about seven crockpots simmered away for a few hours. The smell coming off all of that was about as good as it gets. Nobody in history has had a good heart-to-heart while hangry, and I’m standing by that. Lasagna is basically a hug you can eat.
The People Who Wouldn’t Sit Down
We have awesome leadership, and they do not hold back. At all.
Everybody wanted them to have time to relax and enjoy the amenities too, so we all tried to take things out of their hands as much as we could. It did not work. Take a job away from these folks and they just go serve somewhere else. It’s like trying to take a leaf blower from a man who’s discovered a new yard.
At some point you stop fighting it and let people be who they are.
Built on Love
We love our couples family, and I know I speak for everyone when I say we have the best couples group leaders you could possibly ask for. Shawn and Claudia gave selflessly. And it wasn’t only them. Everyone worked together to prepare this retreat, and they did it out of love.
You can feel the difference. A weekend that gets put together out of duty feels like an event. A weekend put together out of love feels like being expected at somebody’s house. Every couple who walked in that door was expected.
The Envelopes
Here’s the part you’re probably wondering about, if you’ve never been to one of these. What do you actually do?
Before the second night, each couple was handed an envelope. Inside was a question, and the idea was to open it with your spouse. After dinner, we all gathered around the cabana, and when it was your turn, you had a choice. You could answer the question. You could give your testimony. Or you could ask for prayer.
That choice matters, especially if you’re the nervous type. You picked the door you were ready to walk through. We did it the same way last year, and it works.
Then the night did what the night did. We laughed. There was some crying. There was definitely some praying. It was emotional, and it was spiritual, and honestly, it’s really hard to explain. If you’ve ever tried to describe a sunset to someone who wasn’t there, you know the feeling. The words show up, but they’re not carrying the whole thing.
One question turned out to be everybody’s favorite: name a song that fits your marriage.
I’m not going to put the answers here. Those belong to the people who gave them. I’ll just tell you that when the songs started coming out, everybody whooped and hollered, and we all had a blast.
So here’s a little homework, and you can do it in the car. Ask your spouse what song fits your marriage. Then don’t argue about the answer until at least the next exit.
The Pool, Clothes and All
The second night, after the work was done, the ladies who had worked so hard for everybody jumped in the pool. Clothes and all.
And I did not catch it. I’ll always regret that.
I was the camera person for the weekend, so catching the special moments was my job. The trouble is, I’m only one person, and those moments were going off like a fireworks show. You never knew exactly where to look at any given time. I tried to be everywhere at once, and I can report that it doesn’t work. While I was pointed at one burst, another one was lighting up somewhere else, and the pool was one of those.
If you’ve ever tried to photograph anything, you know this ache. The best moment of the weekend happens, and it goes right on by without a frame to show for it. The version in my head will have to do.
Floating the Frio
Then there was the river.
Floating down the Frio, holding hands with the one you love. I promised you earlier that you’d held hands in worse places than a retreat, and this is the upgrade. The water was perfect, and the current does most of the work, which is about the best marriage advice a river can give. You stay together and let it carry you.
It’s hard to stay mad at your spouse out there. I’m not saying it’s impossible. Some of you are professionals. I’m saying you’ll have to commit, and the river will make it difficult.
Sunday Morning and One More Day
By the time it was all said and done, we all wished it could go on for just one more day.
Sunday morning started with a fabulous breakfast casserole. Nobody has ever complained about a breakfast casserole, which turns out to matter. Then we streamed our church service live, together, right there at the retreat.
Pastor Chad talked about being careful not to complain about the blessings you’ve prayed for. I couldn’t help thinking that one hit different with everybody in the room.
Sit with that for a minute, especially if you’re married or hoping to be. A lot of us prayed for this. The person, the home, the family. We asked, and we meant it. Then the answer showed up, and somewhere along the way we started grumbling about the way it left its shoes in the hallway. That message lands a little harder after a weekend spent around a whole group of couples who are living out what they once asked God for.
Saying Goodbye (Sort Of)
The whole retreat was an emotional and spiritual experience, and the goodbyes were part of it. Hugging everybody at the end, with all the feelings that come with that, and knowing at the same time that we’ll see each other really soon.
That’s a strange mix, and a good one. Nobody gets misty over saying goodbye to people they’ll never see again. You get misty because you love them, and the next time is close enough that you’re already counting.
The Theme That Named Itself
The lasagna, the envelopes, the pool, the river, the casserole. It all adds up to the phrase we landed on for the weekend: dysfunctional, but we function together.
Read the second half twice, because it matters as much as the first. It doesn’t say fixed. It doesn’t say arrived. It says we’re a little bent, a little stubborn, and we still show up for each other. That isn’t a failing grade. That’s a marriage.
Somewhere along the way, a lot of us picked up the idea that a good marriage looks smooth. No friction, no repeat arguments, no dishes in the sink on day three. Then we look at our own kitchen and figure we’re the only ones who missed the memo. You didn’t miss it. There is no memo. Or if there is, everybody lost it around the same time.
Think about how marriages look from the outside. You see the anniversary post and the two of them laughing at the potluck. You don’t see the thermostat argument that ran three days. Everyone’s highlight reel gets stacked against everyone else’s behind-the-scenes footage, and everybody loses. A retreat flips that around. For a weekend, the behind-the-scenes footage is allowed in the room, and around that cabana, it was. We laughed, we cried, and we asked for prayer out loud.
We came prepared to listen, love, help, pray, laugh, and sometimes cry with this beautiful bunch of broken people. And yes, maybe some of us get seen as dysfunctional. I’ll take it. If dysfunctional means a group of couples who show up for each other, pray for each other, and jump in the pool in their clothes, put me down for dysfunctional.
Where God Showed Up
As always, God showed up. He blew us all away.
I won’t try to wrap that in a bow, because it doesn’t fit in one. But I can tell you why I’m never surprised, even though I’m always amazed. Scripture has never pretended people are polished. Ecclesiastes 4 says two are better than one, because if one falls, the other can lift them up. It’s a practical verse. Nobody in it is a superhero. A few lines later comes a cord of three strands, which is not quickly broken. Two people, plus God in the middle. Not two flawless people. Two regular ones with a third strand holding the whole thing together.
Proverbs says iron sharpens iron, and if you’ve been married more than a week, you know sharpening involves sparks. That’s not a flaw in the plan. That’s the plan.
We went into this retreat excited because of what the Holy Spirit did at the last one. We came out of it knowing He wasn’t finished. When you set aside a weekend on purpose, when you open the door with a little prayer and a lot of honesty, He walks right in. That’s what I saw around that cabana.
What This Retreat Is, to Me
This is my view, and I’m sure everyone in that group would give you their own. Ask ten couples and you’ll get ten answers, probably with a few extra jokes.
Here’s mine. It’s a place to be in the presence of the Holy Spirit. It’s a place to decompress from the hustle of daily life. It’s a place to find out you’re not alone. And it’s a place to learn from the more “seasoned” couples. (We’ve been debating what to call the older couples in our group, and we may have finally settled on “seasoned.”)
Start with the Holy Spirit, because everything else sits on top of that. At home, it’s easy to go weeks without making real room for Him. Not because you don’t love Him, but because the calendar is loud. A weekend set aside on purpose turns the volume down.
That’s the decompressing part too. At home, marriage runs on autopilot and a shared calendar. You can go weeks having logistics conversations and calling it communication. “Did you pay the water bill?” is a question. It is not intimacy. Then you get somewhere with a river, good food, and no laundry in sight, and something loosens.
Now the not-alone part. Remember that fear from the top of this post, the one where everybody else is doing great and you’re the only mess? Turns out just about everyone has the same experience. Money. Time. Kids. In-laws. The topics nobody brings up until somebody else does, and then the whole circle exhales. That exhale alone is worth the trip.
And then there are the “seasoned” couples. If you’re newer to marriage, or newer to this kind of thing, there’s real value in sitting near people who’ve been at it longer. You don’t need a lecture. Just being around couples who’ve walked further down the road you’re on is a kind of teaching all by itself.
So Should You Go?
If you’ve never done a retreat, yes. Don’t wait until things are bad enough to justify it. You don’t need a crisis. You don’t need a perfect marriage, which is lucky, because nobody has one. You need two people willing to show up, even if one of them is only 80 percent sure.
Bring your quirks. Bring your baggage. Bring the argument you had in the parking lot, because somebody else brought theirs too. Bring your swimsuit, or don’t, and do what the ladies did. You’ll probably wish it lasted one more day. We did. And when it’s over, you’ll find yourself hugging people goodbye and already looking forward to the next time. There is nobody I would rather do life with. You’ll fit right in.
