Pilgrimage (by Diane Gallagher)

Guest Blogger Wednesday!  I’ve been reading this awesome book called To The Field of Stars by Fr. Kevin Codd.  It is about this man’s pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela in Spain where, legend has it, that the bones of St. James the Greater are buried.  Pilgrims from every walk of life, age, ethnic background and religion journey together through mountains and wheat fields, blazing sun and torrential rain, with blisters and pulled tendons and back aches to reach the tomb of St. James.  It is a book that has really moved me as I am a big fan of travel and new adventures, especially in the name of spiritual growth.  As I’ve been reading, I’ve begun to mentally plan my trip to Spain:  when will I go?  With whom?  It has stirred up the ole “wanderlust” spirit within, and I have gotten excited about the potential trip. 

Yesterday, I was having an emotionally challenging day.  I was exhausted and having a little pity party for myself.  As I was rocking my fussy, fidgety 1 yr. old in an attempt to lull her to sleep, I began to daydream about this pilgrimage to Spain.  I was rudely brought back to reality when a couple of my supposedly sleeping children began to cry for me down the hall.  “Moooooommmy….I’m scared!”  “My toe hurts!”  We were already getting them all to bed later than we like (that dang summer schedule!) so my patience was worn thin.  I began to have an internal temper tantrum.  I just wanted them to all go to sleep so I could wash the dishes and clean up the kitchen that had been left in a whirlwind as we ran off to pick boys 2 and 3 up from camp (see footnote).  “I can’t do this,” I internally cried to myself, when I heard a whisper deep in my soul – reminding me, challenging me – that THIS was my pilgrimage.  Ugh.  Spain is so much more exciting!  But a true pilgrim perseveres when the going gets tough and endures all kinds of adverse conditions that others would look at and ask “why would any sane person want to go through that?”  I imagine people look at my husband and I with our 7 kids and have the same thoughts.  Pilgrims travel because they believe in the journey…and so do I.  I have days that are so challenging I want to crawl into a hole and escape.  Then there are days that are rewarding and remind me it’s all worth the pain.  I may not get blisters and pulled tendons, but my back certainly aches from carting the baby and laundry and groceries around.  I do have the aches and pains of a pilgrim mother who is journeying toward heaven, and hoping her kids follow.  It may not be as glamorous as Spain, but I believe that this destination will be more worthwhileJ 

As I reflected on all of this, I paged through the dictionary to find the official definition of pilgrimage:  “journey of a pilgrim to a sacred place” and “the course of life on earth.”  I had never thought of my life as a pilgrimage before.  Guess I was wrong.  Bring on the blisters and blazing sun… bring on the crying babies and messy kitchen.  I’m a pilgrim on one exciting journey right here in Erie, PA!

Footnote:  In his book, Fr. Codd shares about the struggles and crosses of the pilgrimage and how refreshing it is when a fellow pilgrim or a kind outsider performs an act of kindness toward you – massaging your feet or tending to a nasty blister, for example.  That night, my husband was that kind fellow pilgrim.  He, too, had an exhausting day but was downstairs doing the dishes and cleaning the kitchen while I put the kids to sleep.  Indeed, a very welcome and pleasant surprise for my weary bonesJ