On the Power of Rest and Retreat

Franciscan Spirituality and an Extraordinary Massage-Giving Nun

The best massage of my life came at the hands of a septuagenarian nun. Sister Nancy Hoffman, FSPA¹ is one of the founders of Prairiewoods Franciscan Spirituality Center, a miraculous slice of reclaimed prairie and oak savannah sandwiched between the suburbs and a trailer court on the edge of Hiawatha, Iowa.

Established over 25 years ago, Prairiewoods’ mission is to be “a sacred space where people of all faiths and cultures are invited to explore and nurture their relationships with the Source of all Being, Earth, Self and Others, with an increasing awareness of the story of the Universe.”²

It’s a beautiful and peaceful place. 70 acres in total. Modeling care for self (body and soul), other, and all creation in simple and practical ways. The buildings are LEED³ Gold certified by the U.S. Green Building Council. Solar panels provide nearly half of all energy used on the property. Massive organic vegetable gardens provide healthy and nourishing food to guests and to the community. A “Cosmic Walk” marks moments in the evolutionary history of all life, from the “Great Flaring Forth” some 14 billion years ago to the “Rising of Consciousness” we are invited to participate in today. There are miles of trails with benches to sit and take in the lazy movement of Dry Creek or the steady work of the pollinators in the tall grasses (thanks to good relationships with troops that produce Eagle Scouts and Americorps). A labyrinth and a sweat lodge sit paces from each other and a short walk from the off-grid hermitages made of cob. The whole place is woven together with reminders that we are not separate but connected. Science and spirituality. Humans and the more-than-human world. Body and spirit.

I first met Sr. Nancy about a decade ago when I was serving as a solo pastor in North-Central Iowa. A dear friend was also serving as a solo pastor in Eastern Iowa and suggested Prairiewoods as a place to meet in the middle. After that first much-needed retreat, it became a staple in our lives and ministry, visiting at least a couple times each year.  We might sit in the gliders in the Meditation Chapel for centering prayer or talk through our lives and ministry while ambling through the prairie or peruse the books in the library while the other was receiving holistic services (spiritual direction, healing touch, that amazing massage).

About that massage. Sr. Nancy is tall, grounded, and unassuming. Her voice is breathy and melodic. Her hands are strong. Every massage starts with a time to focus on the head and shoulders, seated in the anteroom to her studio, sun streaming in. She would ask after my confirmation class while aggressively kneading the knots in my shoulders. And when I asked, she shared a bit about her life, too. Like the outdoor swing her niece and nephew had gifted her. How she liked it so much she decided to move it into her economy apartment in place of the sofa. Her kitten enjoyed it immensely.

After that initial chatty check-in, we would move into her small studio. Similar to any massage studio, it has low lights, a massage table, a place to hang your clothes, and quiet music. Dissimilar to any other studio I’ve ever been in, every inch of wall, shelf space, and countertop is covered in angels she’s been gifted over the years. Clearly, many people experience Sr. Nancy as an angel, a messenger of the Holy One. Once situated on the table, Nancy opens the massage in prayer. Taking the content of our earlier chat and turning it into an intention for the massage. Simply asking Jesus to be present in the room. Asking that the blessing of this massage might bless my body to be a blessing to the world.

Sometimes we would fall silent at this point. Sometimes I felt moved to talk more, to ask more questions. Like how it was that a nun was giving me this most excellent massage? It turns out Sr. Nancy had had a full career teaching children. I imagine she was a beloved teacher. The inspiration for many spontaneous hugs. She said that she had been moved to see how important positive touch was in the lives of children: a comforting hand on the shoulder, a pat on the back that said, “well done!” So when one of the other Sisters shared the dream of Prairiewoods, Sr. Nancy started thinking about what practical skill she could learn that would support the vision of the place and be useful to the people who came to visit. She settled on massage therapy.

Between the prayer that calls Jesus into the room, the gifted strength and gentleness of her hands, and the simple practicality of care for peoples’ bodies, it’s easy to imagine Sr. Nancy as part of a direct lineage of the disciples of Jesus. The women especially. They always seem to be the ones in the gospels who are caring for peoples’ bodies. Preparing food, anointing feet with oil or washing them with tears, bringing spices to prepare his body for burial.

The body was never supposed to be a second-class citizen in the Christian tradition. Though many of us seem to take the brutalization of Christ’s body on the cross (a human device) as the model for how we treat our own. It seems worth noting that Jesus never did violence to another body. He touched and healed and fed and blessed and participated in the fullness and goodness of life. This is the model of caring for the body (for mine and for others) that I’m trying to embrace. It’s been especially important through the IVF process and in the days of lingering fatigue that follow COVID.

So on Monday, I motored my way to Hiawatha and to Prairiewoods for a retreat through their monthly “Day of Self-Renewal.” Though there was no massage with Sr. Nancy this time, my day included many different avenues of healing and care for my spirit through the gentle care of my body. A nourishing noon meal came from the abundantly producing garden. A sound bath. (If you’ve never experienced such a thing, I cannot recommend it highly enough.) After lunch, those gathered had a collective lie-down in the conference room (yoga mats and bolsters provided) while a woman with dozens of singing bowls played them for almost an hour. The collection and variety of tones rises and collects in a way that you feel deep in your bones. It is at once overwhelming, strangely relaxing, peaceful, and clarifying. You rise at the end, wondering where the time has gone. So too with healing touch. Much quieter than the sound bath, but a simple and profound rearrangement of the energy within and around me. And then a guided forest bathing experience with some other participants from the day. Tuning our senses to the world we are part of. Taking in the good medicine that is on offer from the land.

All of this I would lovingly catalogue in my woo-woo file. As a religious professional, I’ve sometimes been a bit embarrassed to disclose its contents. And yet it’s extraordinary how grounded such practices can be in our own theology and how grounding they can be as a whole.

I had reserved a room in the guest house, so when the program for the day ended, I didn’t need to drive home. Instead, I went for a slow and self-guided prairie ramble. I went to visit Grandmother Oak.

Grandmother Oak is an extraordinary tree. At least a couple hundred years old, her trunk is easily five feet in diameter. Her bark would disturb a plumb line. Rather than running straight up and down, it has a twist. When the derecho hit in August of 2020, Prairiewoods lost an estimated 1,000 trees. Hiawatha sits just north of Cedar Rapids. The canopy was decimated. Grandmother Oak sustained damage. Limbs were rended. But she stood tall. The branches that came down now sit in a ring around her, a resting spot for any and all who come to visit. With diameters ranging from 18-30 inches, they make for very good benches.

When I visit Grandmother Oak, I think of the many generations over which she has grown and stood as a witness. I think of my own Grandmothers. How I miss them and how I am grateful for grandmother-ing presences in the world—whether in the form of trees or nuns—who provide shelter and assurance and permission to rest. I slept well Monday night. And I can feel my body mending. It’s not going as fast as I’d like. Afternoon naps and early bedtimes are my new best friends. But this time is teaching me there is surely power (and healing) in rest and retreat.

1. Franciscan Sisters of Perpetual Adoration

2. https://prairiewoods.org/exploring-our-mission/

3. Leadership in Energy & Environmental Design