Letter to Kairos Retreat
Dear Kairos Participant,
As you begin this retreat, I want to share a letter that comes from a place of honesty, reflection, and hope. Kairos is often described as a “time outside of time,” a moment when the noise of daily life slows down enough for you to hear something deeper. For some people, that “something” is faith. For others, it is clarity, healing, or a new understanding of themselves. Wherever you are spiritually or emotionally right now, this retreat is your opportunity to pause, breathe, and look inward with a courage that most people rarely give themselves.
I want to begin by acknowledging something important: coming on Kairos doesn’t mean you have everything figured out. It doesn’t mean you walk in with perfect faith, a flawless life, or a heart free of doubt. Many people arrive feeling uncertain, tired, confused, or simply curious. Some carry questions they’ve never said out loud. Others carry burdens they’ve tried to hide or ignore. And some arrive hopeful—ready for change, connection, or something new. No matter what brought you here, there is room for you exactly as you are. There is no “right way” to experience Kairos. There is only your way.
Over the next few days, you may hear stories that touch your heart in unexpected ways. You may meet people who open up about struggles you never knew they carried. You may recognize parts of yourself in others’ words, or you may learn that you have strength, compassion, or courage you didn’t know you possessed. Kairos has a way of revealing truth—gently, quietly, and sometimes powerfully. I hope you allow yourself to be present for these moments, even the uncomfortable ones. Growth often comes from sitting with emotions instead of running from them.
As you move through this retreat, I encourage you to be patient with yourself. You don’t need to force realizations or breakthroughs. You don’t need to pretend to feel something just because others do. Kairos is not about performance; it’s about authenticity. Let yourself feel what you feel without judgment. If you need time to think, take it. If you want to talk, there will be people ready to listen. And if certain moments overwhelm you, remind yourself that discomfort is a natural part of transformation.
One of the most meaningful gifts of Kairos is connection—real, raw connection that goes beyond what most of us experience in everyday life. Take a moment to listen when others share. Let yourself be open when it’s your turn to speak. And remember that vulnerability is not a weakness; it’s an act of courage. When someone trusts you with their truth, they are offering something sacred. When you share your truth, you give others the chance to understand you more deeply. Some of the friendships formed on Kairos last far beyond these few days because they are built on honesty instead of masks.
But connection goes deeper than friendships. Kairos invites you to reconnect with yourself. Ask yourself: What am I holding on to? What is hurting me? What brings me joy? What do I need to let go of? What do I want to become? These questions may not have immediate answers, and that’s okay. What matters is the willingness to ask them. Self-reflection can feel intimidating, but it is also freeing. You deserve the freedom that comes from understanding who you are and what matters most to you.
If faith is a part of your life, Kairos may help you experience it in new ways. You may find peace in prayer, comfort in scripture, or strength in knowing you are loved. If faith is something you’re unsure about, this retreat may still give you moments of clarity—moments where you recognize kindness, grace, or purpose in simple human interaction. Kairos doesn’t try to force belief; instead, it opens space for you to explore it at your own pace. No matter where you stand, I hope you feel supported, not judged; welcomed, not pressured; understood, not misunderstood.
Before I close this letter, I want to say something you may need to hear: you matter. Your story matters. Your struggles matter. Your dreams matter. Even the parts of you that you hide—especially those parts—matter. Kairos is a reminder that you are not alone in what you carry. There are people who want to walk with you, listen to you, and support you. Let them. Let yourself be held. Let yourself be seen.
When you leave this retreat, life won’t suddenly become perfect. Problems won’t disappear. But something inside you may shift—a new understanding, a softer heart, a clearer path, or a renewed sense of hope. Hold onto that. Carry it with you when stress returns, when doubt creeps in, or when you feel distant from the peace you felt here. Kairos is not just a place; it’s a perspective. It reminds you that every day, even the difficult ones, can hold meaning.
I hope you walk away from this experience with a heart that feels lighter, a mind that feels clearer, and a spirit that feels stronger. Most of all, I hope you carry the love, acceptance, and compassion found here back into your everyday life. Share it with others. Share it with yourself.
Live the fourth.
With care,