The Blessings of Laity Lodge

It's an unforgettable place I've visited often. The first time, maybe twenty years ago or so, I was convinced that I was almost shockingly naïve because most people I knew wouldn't believe it if I'd try to describe the placae. It was beyond the imagination of most of my friends---and me too, a spiritual retreat hostel so far out you had to drive a mile in a river to get there. Way, way out of the way.

That Frio River looked like this--not the Floyd or the Big Sioux or the Missouri, a slow mover that at times left shocking slashes through Texas hill country. 

The Frio is a little shallow thing, so perfectly clear you could spot fish easily where it was deep enough to offer sanctuary. Too much rain demonized that strange little river, created a roaring, raging monster that for a thousand years slashed through rocky hills.

Cave-like passageways were scooped out of the sides, strange, almost horrifying places unlike anything I'd ever seen, sort of horrifyingly beautiful.

Laity Lodge a retreat heart of all that rare, deserty beauty, a wild and even unforgiving landscape, a place only an armidillo could call home. 

Here the center, hidden, as it is within the trees.

Got this note from them today. H.E. Butt Foundation owns the place, a name that makes you giggle until you learn that the family owns an immense chain of stores throughout Texas and even into Mexico. The note is, well, noteworthy, one of the few times in my life I've ever received a message from a non-profit who insists you hold on to your contribution this season because in the age of Covid there are simply more needy places to send contributions. I can't help thinking that the sentiment is amazing. They're doing well, they say; others aren't. This year give those people and places the money.

Amazing.

 This morning I'm thankful for a note that warms heart and soul from a place that does too.