The first day at Soul of the Valley did not begin with a smooth, cinematic arrival. It began with a road closure, a detour, and a drive that took longer than expected.
Guests came in through the early afternoon, working their way around part of US-40 that was closed. The route had other ideas about how quickly everyone would get there. Still, they arrived happy in spite of the hassle. And, as the story goes, a stop at Buc-ee’s helped make everything all right.
By the time people began gathering, I was ready to see them, and carrying a few worries of my own. I had told my family that I was expecting things to go left. Instead, everyone was open and glad to be there. They were so happy to see me. Any insults, unless they were subliminal, went right over my head. I did not catch them. What I noticed was how easily people settled into the room and into one another’s company.
The property, in person
The photographs had made the property look a little larger and grander than it felt once we were there. In person, it was a nice location, with trees and the valley setting the scene, just on a more modest scale than the pictures suggested. The photos did the place a favor; the real version had its own pleasant, grounded feel. No grand reveal, no dramatic disappointment, just the small adjustment that comes when a place stops being a picture and becomes somewhere you’re actually carrying bags.
And there were bags to carry.
The part that happens before dinner
The quiet arrival you see in a finished photo has a less photogenic cousin: the setup. Bags need to go where they belong. Rooms need tending. Tables need arranging. Things have to be lifted, carried, moved, checked, and moved again because apparently the first location was not, in fact, the right location.
Most of that work fell to me, largely solo. There is a particular rhythm to doing the practical things while also keeping an eye on the clock and trying to be ready to welcome everyone. A hand is full, another item is waiting, and there is always one more trip to make. People see the table when it’s ready. They don’t see every carry that got it there.
By dinner, the guests had arrived, the table was set, and the day had shifted from hauling and arranging to sitting down together. That shift was welcome.
Dinner, finally
The food, though. I was eating so fast that only a few photos survived. That is the most honest review I can give: the meal arrived, I was hungry, and the camera did not get priority.
The table gave us a place to land after the long drive and the work of getting everyone settled. Plates, serving dishes, glasses, and the view all had their turn in the frame. Mostly, though, I was paying attention to the food and to the people around me. The first real conversation of the weekend was underway, without a big announcement that this was now the official moment for conversation. People were together, passing dishes and talking. That was enough.
I had spent some time bracing for the possibility that the day would go sideways. Then I found myself at the table with family who were glad to see me and a group that was open to being there. The contrast was hard to miss. No grand speech needed; the welcome was in people showing up, sitting down, and sharing dinner.
A few pictures do not capture the whole meal, and they certainly don’t show every conversation. They do show the table gradually becoming a shared space instead of a setup task. The food kept moving. People served themselves. I kept eating. The camera kept losing.
At some point, a spider made an appearance. The day already had a detour and a Buc-ee’s stop in its story; apparently the deck wanted its own small contribution. Have Hot Shot will travel.
Setting intentions at the welcome
Everyone at the table was on a healing journey of their own, looking for rest and peace, healing from anxiety. My own stated intention, said out loud, was simple: "I will find what makes me happy and just be happy." It landed with everyone. Nobody thought it was hokey or silly. That was the moment the welcome hit.
These were the words I shared with the group:
Welcome to the Valley
Having you here means more to me than words can easily say.
Navigating loss and finding self-forgiveness takes tremendous courage. I am learning that this healing is not a sprint, but an ongoing journey—one that becomes lighter and more hopeful when it isn't walked alone. Gathering here at the Soul of the Valley is giving me the encouragement and peace I need to keep mending.
May these days bring each of us rest, honest connection, and gentle renewal.
A few thoughts for another time
Since arriving and setting up, I’ve been thinking about how a future gathering might work in a different kind of setting. I’d like to take a recon tour of newer glamping spots coming online in or near North Carolina. That’s a thought for next year, or perhaps October 2028-not an announcement, just an idea I want to look into.
I’ve also been thinking about the work behind the welcome: setting up, carrying, lifting, and getting a place ready for people to arrive. Wanting more hands for that has me considering whether an internship opportunity could grow out of it. It is still only a thought, but it’s one that keeps coming back when I remember how much of arrival day happened before anyone sat down.
Day one took longer to get going than expected. Then everyone arrived, the room opened up, and dinner did what dinner does when people are ready to sit down together. Tuesday’s debrief is next: Day 2: Morning Practice, the Valley.