Seeking

Over mountains, hills, and plains;
Through the valleys and country lanes;
Crossing the rivers swelled with rains;
I go seeking.

In the morning, cool and dry;
When it's hot and the sun is high;
Though malice fills the pregnant sky;
I go seeking.

Hungry and tired and sore to the bone;
Anxious and lonely and longing for home;
Eternally grateful for each kindness that's shown;
I go seeking.

Asking the Spirit to show me the way;
Begging Him, pleading: "Teach me to pray!"
Afraid that my strength will soon start to fray;
I go seeking.

Teach me your wisdom, my fire, my dove;
Loosen my tongue with words from above;
Fill me with Faith, with Hope, and with Love;
I come seeking.

I'll cross the mountains, the desert, the sea;
Searching for you as you've pursued me;
Never stopping nor resting till I "rest in thee."
I'll keep seeking.

A Final Word

           Well, as I sit writing this I’ve been back in the U.S. for two weeks and I’m still struggling with how to communicate with people about my pilgrimage.  I knew before coming home that it will likely take a long time, years maybe, before I really understand what I experienced this summer.  But as I mentioned in one of my first blog posts, there’s a big difference between knowing something in your head, and knowing it from experience.  And now I inevitably and continuously face that dreaded request: “Tell me about your trip!” 

            Not that I blame anyone for asking, of course.  The people who love me and supported me through this adventure naturally want to know about it, and I want to tell them.  I want to share everything with them: the ups and downs, the struggles, the joys, the moments that changed my life and the moments that showed me where it still needs changing.  But how can I put all of that into words?  Impossible.  I suppose this is how the writers of the gospels must have felt, for my pilgrimage was nothing less than an experience of Christ.  His Power and Love permeated my every step and breath along the Camino, and that’s not an easy thing to express.

            I suppose the best way to start is with the lessons I’ve learned.  First: Abandonment.  “The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom do I fear? The Lord is my life’s refuge; of whom am I afraid?” (Psalm 27)  God loves us more than we can imagine, and He is in control, so what is there to fear?  When my bag was lost and I was stranded in Toulouse (where every hotel in the city was booked solid) I had a place to stay because one of my old roommates was spontaneously invited by a priest to go to Calcutta for two months where he met an English speaking woman from Toulouse.  Before I even knew I was going on the pilgrimage, God was preparing a shelter for me. 

            Second: Suffering is made easier when we see it as an opportunity to offer something back to God.  The beauty of Christ’s passion is that it gave suffering the possibility of being redemptive rather than meaningless.  When we unite our sufferings to the passion of Christ they can be extraordinarily powerful, even the little ones.  And when we accept those sufferings willingly, rather than grudgingly, we also accept Christ’s strength to bear them and a burden can be transformed into thanksgiving for the opportunity to offer even a small sacrifice back to God for the intentions of someone we love.

            Third: Humility, humility, humility.  Pride isn’t everyone’s primary vice, but it sure did a number on me.  It trapped me in old resentments and grudges, told me I wasn’t good enough unless I could measure my relationship with God in some observable way, made me afraid to get into difficult conversations about the faith because I might be humiliated or teach someone the wrong thing (which is a legitimate concern of course, but not an excuse not to try).  Most importantly it focused my attention on me to the extent that I forgot that I don’t have to be the savior of the world.  Praise be to God, we’ve already got one of those.  Pride puts me and my efforts in the center, while humility allows Christ his rightful seat in my heart.  Pride says I have to do great things to make up for my great sins.  Humility says I can never make up for my sins, I can never show God how much I truly love Him…but He sure does like the macaroni picture I made Him.  Because it’s not about what I can do, it’s about what He has done.

            Fourth: Mary is ridiculously awesome.  I think if I talk much about this I’ll just be repeating what I said in my post from Lourdes, so I’ll keep it short (but if you haven’t read my Lourdes post, “Holy Mother of God”, check it out).  Mary is a perfect person, one of two such people to ever walk the earth, and the other one was God.  She loves perfectly, she guides perfectly, she reigns perfectly as Queen of Heaven.  Like any good mother she nourishes us, nurtures us, protects us, teaches us, guides us, and wraps us in her loving arms.  As St. Louis de Montfort says, she is the easiest, surest, and shortest path to Christ. 

            Fifth: No pilgrimage is undertaken alone.  I may have been the only one to walk 1,000 miles this summer, but I am not the only one who traveled from Arles to Santiago.  I was accompanied by everyone who supported my pilgrimage, both financially and in prayer.  I was accompanied by the girl who told me she prayed a rosary for me every day of the trip, and had never prayed that many consecutive rosaries before.  I was accompanied by friends who offered up masses for me and family who prayed for my safety and well being every day I was gone.  I was accompanied by relatives of friends and people I’ve never met who found my blog and contacted me to tell me that it helped them grow in their own walk with Christ.  I was accompanied by all of you, whose thoughts and prayers were with me, constantly petitioning God that I might find what I was looking for.  All of you who desired to share in my journey in some way, through the blog, by prayer, by your financial support, or by calling my parents for the latest news, were with me in Santiago.

            I can never thank you enough for making this pilgrimage a reality for me.  It has changed my life, it has changed my relationship with God, it has changed me in a fundamental and not yet understood way.  I am a better man today than I was three months ago.  God willing, I will be a better priest, a better servant of the Church, for having made this journey.  And I can tell you that I desire to be a priest now more than ever.  I want that more than I want anything else in the world.  I pray one day that too will become a reality, and that I will serve you all in such a way as to be a fitting thank you for your generosity to me.

It is finished.

     How did this happen?  It seems simultaneously like it was yesterday and ages ago that I began this adventure.  1,000 miles in 62 days.  It almost seems like a dream.  I woke up around 6:30 on July 24th to the sound of a group of Catholics praying Morning Prayer in the lobby (not a bad way to wake up).  Almost everyone else was already gone.  I packed up my bag and took some extra time to pray Office of Readings and Morning Prayer, I wanted to make sure I started the day off as prayerfully as possible.  Because I was so late leaving the albergue, I was pretty much alone for the first couple hours of my walk, which was a nice surprise after the hundreds and hundreds of people I was surrounded by the day before.  When I began I felt a strong since of awe, knowing it was my final walkñ but that soon gave way to impatience as the kilometers seemed to stretch on and on and on.  (In reality, it was one of my shortest hikes of the whole trip.)  By the time I reached Santiago I was feeling exhausted (I really hadn't slept much in a few nights).  And it was rather frustrating to discover that once I reached the city, it was still another 45 minutes before I reached the Cathedral.
     When I finally reached the main plaza I tried to feel something, some sense of completion, but it just wasn't there.  I entered the cathedral just as they were beginning mass which was quite fortunate, but frustrating due to the crowds of people milling around constantly the entire time.  Right after mass I went to the Apostle's tomb to pray and thank him for bringing me so far.  Still I felt nothing.  So, exhausted and hungry, I got my compostella and went in search of a place to stay for the night.  After some initial failures to find anything I decided I needed to eat and rest, because I was just too dang tired to think straight.  This whole time I was trying my best not to feel anxious about finding lodging.  I kept reminding myself how often and generously God has provided for me on this trip and just kept saying, "I trust you Lord, whatever you want, but please give me a place to stay."  But I still felt anxious, I really didn't want to sleep on the street.
     I got lunch at a great little kebab place and as I was leaving I ran into an America named Michelle who was born, wonder of wonders, in French Lick, just about an hour from my hometown.  It turns out she knew of a great little pension that she had stayed in the night before and thought they had a room left.  So I walked, very quickly, to the place and, praise God, they had a room left.  As soon as I was sitting in the room I just started laughing I was so relieved and offered up prayers in thanksgiving to God for taking care of me once again.
     Now I revisted the cathedral, with no worries about what was going to happen next.  The crowds had died down quite a bit, the church was much quieter, I was much quieter.  And I started to feel it.  I went to the statue of St. James behind the high altar and knelt and thanked him for all his help.  I went to the back of the church to see the column with the handprint from all the millions of pilgrims who have touched it upon ending their pilgrimages.  Just to stand in that spot and know that so many have stood exactly there in thanksgiving and awe was amazing.  As I walked back up towards the sanctuary the "finished-ness" of it all hit me, and every few steps I would begin to laugh and cry simultaneously.  Lastly I stopped in the adoration chapel and knelt before Christ my Lord, who called me on this pilgrimage, who guided me and protected me along it, who drew me closer to Himself through it, and who strengthened me to finish it well, and I laughed and cried (as quietly as possible of course) and said "Thank you."

     I was blessed to meet up with several of my "camino friends" for dinner that night.  It was a wonderful little reunion.  We shared stories, talked about how our hopes for the camino had been fulfilled or what we think we'll be able to take back with us.  One woman asked me about when I decided to be a priest and I got to share my vocation story with the group.  It felt good to be able to share my story, including some of my experience in Lourdes, and try to communicate as sincerely as possible my passion and excitement and ridiculous desire to be a priest.  I can only hope that if I can communicate my passion sincerely it may serve to help others examine their own faith, and draw closer to God.
     After dinner I went back to my room and prayed and journaled, and just tried to process, not only that day, but the entire trip.  It was over.  My two month long pilgrimage was over.  Thank you Lord for the Camino, for prayer, for scripture, for strength, for solitude, for community, for friends found and left behind, for your grace that has permeated every step of my pilgrimage and every second of my life, for bringing me to seminary and (hopefully) for calling me to be a priest...for everything.  Thank you.  Glory be to God! The Camino is over, the pilgrimage continues.

More Pictures!

Meseta wheatiness.

Well, I can't turn the picture, so tilt your head.  It's awesome.

150km in 3 days.  This is the look of an exhausted man...with a beer.

I got to walk with these guys for a few days, there are a few Americans in the mix.

Near O Cebreiro, fantastic mountain-ness.

Cool pilgrim sculptures are all over the Camino.

100km to go...bring it on.

Unbelievable

     I'm sitting in an albergue 20km from Santiago.  Let me repeat that.  I'm sitting in an albergue TWENTY KILOMETERS FROM SANTIAGO!  How did that happen?  I am half a day away from the destination I've been working towards for the last 65 days.  I have walked in the heat, in the rain, in the cold, in unreasonably strong wind.  I have walked over mountains, through muddy valleys, down stony paths, on the highways, on country roads (often littered with the signs of cattle), on cobblestone streets (the worst kind to walk on quite frankly).  I have walked through two countries without speaking the native language.  I have walked for twelve hours at a time, covering foolhardy distances while being jovially called insane by other pilgrims.  I have spent nights alone, feeling homesick.  I have spent nights with others, sharing meals and memories.  I have spent nights in huge dorms wishing the teenagers that just started walking would shut up and go to bed.  I have been opened to God through prayer, through loneliness, through community, through the healing waters of Lourdes.  I have been frustrated by closed churches, by museum churches, by masses that omitted rather important parts of the liturgy.  I have seen the beauty in simple churches, in churches that seek to minister to the people in the most basic and beautiful ways, in the Eucharist held for the faithful to adore.  I have been angry, sad, afraid, anxious, and overwhelmingly overjoyed.  I have walked a thousand miles to kneel at the tomb of St. James, to fall down at the feet of Christ my King, to thank Him for His abundant blessings and all the ways He has shown Himself to me this summer.  After 65 days of laughing and crying and everything in between...I'll walk into Santiago before noon tomorrow.  How will I react? I have no idea.  It almost doesn't seem real.  All the planning, all the prayers, all the support from everyone back home, all the walking, and walking, and walking... all for Santiago, all for tomorrow.  Unbelievable.

The Meseta

This is a few days late, but it took several tries to get this video to upload.  Enjoy!

Back On Schedule

     If I had to choose a theme for my pilgrimage experience thus far it would be: Don't Worry.  It seems at every turn God has been teaching me this lesson in new ways.  When I first arrived on the Camino Frances in Puenta la Reina I calculated that I needed to walk an average of 30km a day to make it to Santiago in time for the Feast (July 25th).  So, I immediately made my plan and said "tomorrow I'm going to walk 40km." I figured I'd try to make up the distance as quick as I could so I could slow down and walk with the same people for awhile into Santiago.  Well, it didn't work out.  I proceeded to attempt to make long days for the next week or so and for one reason or another they never worked out (getting stuck at the post office, being unable to find an atm, etc.). 
     Well, the silver lining is that I got to spend several days with Pierre (whom I met a few days before Puenta la Reina) and Charlie, Chris and Heather (all from Texas).  I love these guys, they're great, devoted Catholics (Charlie is entering the Francsicans in September!) and just fun to be around.  Plus, I got to spend July 4th with other Americans, which was a nice way to celebrate.  But I must admit my embarrassment.  After dinner on July 4th I gave a rather awesome toast about how I was grateful to have spent a few days with everybody and was sad that I would be leaving them behind as I increased my distance to make the Feast (teary eyes filled the room, it was terrible, you should have been there).  And then the next day we all had dinner together again.  And the next day.  And the day after that.  It became a running joke that every night I would say "Goodnight guys, I'm sorry I won't see you tomorrow."  Well, finally in Burgos I left them all behind (after 5 days of trying).  They all took a day off in Burgos, so as long as I walked somewhere that day, I would leave them behind.
     A day before Burgos I accepted that I wasn't going to make the Feast.  I said, "God, I want to make it for the Feast, but if that's not what you want than so be it.  I know that Your plan is far better than mine, and I only want what you want for me."  And then God gave me wings...metaphorically speaking of course.  When I left Burgos I felt great.  I had a ton of energy, my legs and back felt strong, I felt like I could walk forever.  I did 30km out of Burgos and decided that I felt so good the next day I was just going to walk as far as I could.  Well, the flat ground of the Meseta, cool temperatures, and God's grace helped me cover about 50km (31 miles) that day.  And I still felt good.  So the next day I did 47km.  And I was tired, but I realized one more day like that and I'd be on schedule.  So I tried again.  I woke up early (and I was dead tired) and I started walking.  It was tough.  I was exhausted, my legs were sore, my knees were feeling strained, I just wanted to stop.  But I kept praying and I kept walking.  And I walked 54km (32miles) in 12 hours.  I couldn't believe it.  90+ miles in 3 days.  It was insane, it was foolish, and it was done.  I was back on schedule.
     So maybe God wanted me to enjoy the few days I had with my new friends.  Maybe God wanted me to more fully abandon myself to His will.  Maybe He wanted to give me an opportunity to rely fully on His grace.  Or maybe (as my dad suggested oh so long ago when they lost my bag in Toulouse) He just wanted to see how badly I wanted it.  I don't know.  But God gave me the strength I needed, when I needed it, to accomplish what I wanted, and what He wanted for me.  He always has, He always does, He always will.  He never fails to provide for me far more abundantly than I could ask for or imagine.  So why worry?