Spring Retreat at Mt. Tiger Head

#2025-0426

Every year, St. James' English Congregation holds one or two spiritual retreats, usually in the spring and fall. For example, on May 5th last year (2024), we had a spring outing to the 聖公會人文書苑 — known in English as the Taiwan Episcopal Church in Hsinchu.

This spring, on April 26th, 2025, we completed our latest retreat. We visited a well-known scenic spot in Puli called Mt. Tiger Head (虎頭山), located beside Liyutan — or Carp Lake (鯉魚潭) — the same area our congregation visited in 2018.

Jean and I attended both retreats to this region. Today, we even had lunch at the same restaurant as before — Guanyin Villa (觀音山莊). After lunch, we drove to the parking lot at the top of Mt. Tiger Head and walked along the Liyutan Trail (鯉魚潭步道). About halfway along the trail, we gathered at a pavilion for a time of spiritual reflection led by Mr. Ben Simmons.

Ben provided handouts that included Psalm 139:1-18, excerpts from Confessions by Saint Augustine, and the Daily Examen prayer. We read the Psalm together and took a few quiet moments to reflect. With Ms. Annie Tsai interpreting in Chinese, Ben led a discussion around theological and practical questions such as: “Where is God?” “How can we sense His presence?” “What should we include in prayer?” and “Can we review or examine ourselves during daily prayer?”

Afterward, we walked back to a lovely café, Puli Tiger (虎嘯山嵐), located near the hilltop parking area. Like everyone else who joined the retreat, Jean and I enjoyed a meaningful and refreshing day — in the very heart of Taiwan. (See photos below.)

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相關文章 (See also)：

1)  St. James' English Congregation Retreat     (2018)

2)  埔里 ● 鯉魚潭 (The Carp Lake, in Puli)     (2018)

3)  An Outing: 清水 "鰲峰山運動公園"     (2023)

4)  A Spiritual Retreat (photos, part one)     (2019)

5)  鵝之聯想：「鵝」的語言學     (2022)

Twilight at Meilun Creek: A Story of Change

#2025-0423

Where the stream sings again and grasses rise anew — Meilun Creek at twilight.

At twilight, when the sky softens and the earth exhales a cooler breath, Jean and I walk hand in hand with our grandchildren along Meilun Creek, not far from St. Luke's Church in Hualien. The stream hums over its stones, the air shimmers with gold, and every step becomes a quiet hymn of joy.

Yet not long ago, the creek told a different story.

In early November, Typhoon Kong-rei swept through, swelling the waters until they burst their banks. The trails we once loved were swallowed by flood and mud. For days, the land wore the heavy scars of wheels, footprints, and broken driftwood — a raw, aching reminder of nature’s fierce power.

But healing follows even the fiercest storms.

Now, the creek runs clear once more, and tender grasses brave their way back to the banks. A new trail curves patiently along the water’s edge — a quiet testament to hope taking root where ruin once lay.

As we walk at dusk, the world around us feels wrapped in mercy. We are small before nature’s grandeur, yet never forgotten. By faith, we trust in the love that binds all things together. By grace, we take each step — renewing ourselves in love, in service, and in gratitude to the Creator who makes all things new. Amen.

May these simple moments by Meilun Creek speak softly to your heart, as they do to ours.

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相關文章 (See also)：

1)  美崙溪：燈光倒影     (2023)

2)  暮色 (Shades of Twilight)     (2024)

3)  Typhoon’s Mark on Meilun Creek     (2024)