Holy Week '15

Last summer I was blessed with the ability to place myself on a pilgrimage walk through part of Ireland. I had physically trained and was prepared to the best of my ability. My boots were broken in, my pack was methodically filled and my gear was perfect. On the first day of the walk I felt as if I were on the start line of a race. My energy was intense and focused. I was convinced I would pound out those miles on the trail and when we arrived at our evening’s destination I would be able to complete any and all tasks at hand. I am still not sure what those imagined tasks were.

As the day progressed and the miles slowly drifted by, I could feel an unrest rise within me. The miles felt treacherously long. I was desperate to get to our night’s lodging so I could be done with the first day. I needed to check it off my list and, “get on with it.” To add to my frustration, we missed a turn, my feet were becoming blistered and it started to rain. I had wondered why I bothered to walk this pilgrimage to begin with. I wanted for it to be over and I hadn’t really started.

Then, midway through our second day, God seemed to speak to me. A healing light entered my soul. I noticed my pace slowed and I took more breaks. I noticed the scenery, I enjoyed the misty rain, and I breathed in the cool air. I realized the pilgrimage was not about accomplishment or some sort of end point but rather it was about the process of life and what my soul is here to experience.

I have worked at bringing this understanding into my everyday life and have noticed it has made me more whole. Perhaps this is also what Holy Week is about, walking the pilgrimage. Not to reach the destination of Easter Sunday but to take in what life is really about, wrong turns, blisters, rain and all.