As a “regular busy person,” as well as lifelong meditator, I decided over the summer to go on retreat during this busy time of Advent.

I considered Big Sur, then serendipitously saw that a friend, Father Larry Gosselin, would now be splitting his time between our Santa Barbara Mission and Serra Retreat in Malibu. (We had previously swam and picnicked to the most gorgeous sunset I have ever seen by the Santa Ynez River).

I decided that Serra Retreat would be a perfect place to read my spiritual book, paint in my watercolor journal, intentionally walk the labyrinth, gaze at the ocean and primarily check in with God.

When I checked in I was reminded of Father Gregory Boyle exclaiming “You are here!” to his homies, giving them acknowledgement and cherishing without judgment.

The staff called me by name whenever I saw them; a small but significant affirmation. I felt peace and spirit everywhere as I realized I was (not) randomly led here by a spirit greater than cognition.

Then when I first walked the hall to my room, there was Father Larry! A big hug ensued, with plans to spend time together the next morning.

After walking the beautiful property, I sat in a comfy leather chair in the quiet living room alone, lit by a resplendent Christmas tree, and began writing in my journal …

What is God? (creator/Love) … Who is God? (Love) … Where is God? (here, there, everywhere). Male, female, gender? (none).  Color? (none).

None of that; ephemeral, eternal, all-knowing, all-being, always holding my hand, always carrying me, always caring for us, always for our highest compassionate Love.

Next up: the stone labyrinth, asking for peace and enlightenment. Walking in releasing all that no longer serves me — anger, resentment, ego — and walking out releasing, appreciating the long and winding road of my life to this point, embracing my highest, which is unconditional compassion, peace, Love over all.

Monkey-mind tension gone, hello peace that surpasses all understanding. Sending light and prayers to my loved ones actually teared me up in this sacred environment.

There were so many amazing little experiences … I went to my little table for one for dinner with a beautiful view overlooking the ocean, thinking of my mother (aka my kick-ass angel).

I walked over to say hello to Father Larry, who said, “Hi, Virginia! I mean, Barbra!” I said, wow, did you know Virginia is my mother’s name?

Of course not. I had never mentioned my mother to him. Wow. She was with me in spirit.

I went to bed with a howling 60 mph wind buffeting the trees outside my window, and almost called down to the office to ask if they had wildfire concerns here, but then realized no one would be there after hours and they obviously have it figured out.

Under a beautiful half-moon and stars, the peace of God in my heart, I fell into a deep, wonderful slumber. A lovely tradition at Serra is that when you leave, you make up your bed with clean sheets and say a prayer for the next guest to have a wonderful retreat.

In the middle of the night, I was awakened to the continuous loud clanging of the huge brass bell. I knew it wasn’t morning for the breakfast bell so I leaned out my windy window and yelled, “What’s happening?” to which the friar yelled, “FIRE!”

I asked, “Do we need to leave?” (duh) … and he replied, “I believe so, yes …”

Adrenalin awakening my senses, I threw everything into my suitcase, slammed it shut and raced downstairs, having no idea how close the flames were, how fast they would move in 60 mph winds, what to do.

A woman pulled up in a black SUV and yelled, “Hop in!” I responded that I have a car so I ran to it and took off, following another car down the lengthy property’s hills along Malibu Creek and the road’s twists and turns to the gate.

When we arrived at the gatehouse, the railroad crossing-style arms were down, with a huge iron gate beyond that. The woman in front of me got out and said they couldn’t open the gate. My articulate and constructive response was “shit.”

We got out and tried to manually raise the bars with no luck. We tried the other side where cars enter, but no luck.

I then realized the fire was rapidly approaching and we were stuck. I tried to call my beloveds to let them know — in the middle of the night — that I was stuck in a wildfire, and that I loved them.

There was no cell service, however, and the meaning of “alone” sunk in.

Soon, a few other vehicles raced down behind us; I got out and let them know we could not open the gate.

One of them with a young daughter (I assume a resident in the enclave) said, “I know another way out!” So we all sped off following her (with one car reversing over a bridge!), over the Malibu foothills through the 26-acre estate, and finally hit Pacific Coast Highway. 

There were no fire trucks in either direction, so I headed west on PCH to home in Santa Barbara. Eventually the moon turned from red to white, and I knew I would survive.

I often listen to Gregorian music in my car, and was astounded (more spiritual beyond understanding experiences) with the songs that came on during my harrowing escape from the Franklin Fire:

• While focusing on my breathing: “Every breath you take, I’ll be watching you.”  
• Hero: “Then a hero comes along with the strength to carry on, and you cast your fears aside, and you know you can survive.”
• “If I close my eyes forever …”
• “Do you feel my beating heart? Am I only dreaming? Or is this burning an eternal flame?”

When I eventually made it home around 2 a.m. and was decompressing, safe in my own bed, I imagined my choir director addressing our choir and saying “I have some bad news,” then my Education for Ministry leader addressing the group saying the same thing. I am so grateful.

A few days later, I went to my sister’s house near Morro Bay. For the first time ever, a group of Christmas carolers, who were all strangers and didn’t know one another or us, showed up at the door and blessed us with Christmas music … the one night I was there.

When they left it began pouring rain, and my sister went out to rescue the last of her beautiful roses and bring it to my bedroom. I remarked on how exquisite it was and asked its name, knowing my sister has brass nameplates on all her roses.

She braved the night rain to check, came back to my room and said, “Malibu.”

I went on retreat to grow closer to God. Thankfully, He did not take me literally this time, but much magic abounds!

Franklin Fire

Despite the close call, Serra Retreat was undamaged by the Franklin Fire, although some nearby neighborhoods were not as fortunate.

The blaze, which ignited along Malibu Canyon Road late on the night of Dec. 9, has since grown to more than 4,000 acres and is at 56% containment as of Dec. 17. The cause remains under investigation.