My First Pilgrimage

5:15 AM: I woke up to the sound of Chai, our outdoor cat, crying at my window. While I fed her, she whined for more cuddles. She doesn’t always understand words like “I need to get ready” or “pilgrimage”. It is very hard to resist her sweet black face, though, so I decided my pilgrimage would have to wait.

6:10 AM: I finally made it out of the house with my bag. I wasn’t sure how hungry I would get, so I packed: apples, boiled eggs, several meat sticks, five electrolyte packets, and some smoked gouda.

6:22 AM: I parked near White Duck Taco, said a prayer for the day, and began walking. This area of the trail is very familiar to me. I let my thoughts take a stroll. Since it was a pilgrimage, though, I tried to be intentional about where my thoughts went. I passed a mulberry tree, noting its limbs loaded with ripe, black berries. I let it move me to think about God’s abundance and where I am seeing that in my own life.

6:45 AM: My favorite bend on this part of the trail goes past the zoo on the right (smelling very earthy) and a creek on the left. The land has a natural hill and then a little bridge as you walk down.

I had planned to fill up notecards with people’s prayer requests, but ended up forgetting to write all of them down until the night before…and by then it was too late. Instead, I asked God to remind me of each person I had committed to praying for as I went.

7:30 AM: About four hours to go and I was rushing. I tried to listen more to my surroundings. Geese honked at me. Trees rustled in the breeze. This hour calmed me.

8:15 AM: I had planned for a lot of mental resistance for this prayer walk. What surprised me as I continued was the easy rhythm of it. Walk. Look around. Walk. Pray a line from Scripture. Pray for a friend. Keep walking.

9:00 AM: I began to experience some pain in my hips and my feet. I probably shouldn’t have tried doing this whole thing in barefoot shoes. I love using them for most things, but this time around my feet and legs both hurt. The pain intensified during this hour. I kept checking my watch, making me aware of how long the minutes felt.

I was also very aware of God’s presence during this time. The pain drove me into a deeper concentration.

Psalm 90 was my companion on this walk and this was the hour when I read it the most. I chose only the first several verses so that I could really focus as I prayed it.

Lord, you have been our refuge from one generation to another.

Before the mountains were brought forth, or the earth and the world were made.

You are God from everlasting and world without end.

You turn man back to the dust; You say, “Return O children of men.”

For a thousand years in Your sight are as yesterday, even as a day that is past.

You scatter them as a night-watch that comes quickly to an end;

they are even as a dream and fade away.

I think if I do this again, I would like to set aside a fifteen minute period to sit and do lectio divina with the passage I’ve chosen. It was hard to concentrate with all of the bikers and other walkers passing me.

10:30 AM: I realized I was going to make it to my destination with some time to spare. This last hour felt a lot more relaxed, even though I was definitely still in pain. God kept reminding me of people to pray for and every biker who passed me was so very friendly. I also rescued a book of poetry which was lying by the side of the road. It looked like it needed a home.

11:22 AM: After five hours and ten miles of continuous walking, there is nothing like coming around the final bend and seeing your destination. In this case, it was Tandem, home to the greatest crêpes ever. I sat down on a park bench and could not stop smiling.

My friend Jessica met me and treated me to a blueberry creme crêpe with coffee. The only thing sweeter and more wonderful than the crepe was Jessica’s baby, who sat in my lap and smiled at me.

Jessica and I had the best conversation about prayer and pilgrimages. She asked me if I thought I would make this a discipline. I have noticed that having time set aside for a longer prayer walk has been really helpful and good, but hadn’t though of making it a monthly rhythm. I’m not sure I’ll do five hours every single time and I might need to invest in some more comfortable walking shoes. It’s something I’d like to try once a month, though.

1 PM: Jessica drove me back to my car. All three of were getting a bit sleepy. When I lay down to nap, I kept thinking about Jessica’s baby nodding off in the back seat, full of trust. The whole day, it felt as though God were reminding me how it feels to completely trust Him with every single worry, just like that baby.

The rest of the day was spent doing recovery things like showering, icing my hips, taking Tylenol, and watching the goslings outside my window. Every great adventure requires some rest afterwards.

I think one of my favorite things about this mini pilgrimage was that it had a very clear starting and ending point. In the absence of a holy site to travel to, it was good to have a place like Tandem to end up at for lunch. A part of me wishes that South Carolina was dotted with old wells or chapels so I could plan trips to them. But I am very creative, so I’ll make up my own pilgrimages. I look forward to sharing about them.

Another one of my favorite things was the direction I felt in praying for everyone. a lot of people had sent in requests and I was worried I wouldn’t remember everything without notecards. But after I got home I checked back through my messages and God had reminded me about all of them.

I took part of another Psalm with me and would like to leave it with you.

Because she has set her love upon Me, therefore I will deliver her;

I will lift her up, because she has known My name.

She shall call upon me, and I will hear her;

indeed, I am with her and bring her honor.

With long life I will satisfy her and show her my salvation.

The Twelve Days of Christmas: Day 12

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A couple of years ago, my friends the Kings had me over for Christmas lunch. Lunch turned into afternoon coffee and snacks, which then turned into late afternoon chatting and yawning. I remember noticing that there were still presents under the tree even though Christmas morning had been over for several hours. The King children were young, and I wouldn’t have expected them to be so uninterested in their little packages.

“We usually only have them open on or two gifts at a time,” Hannah told me when I asked. “We don’t want them to get into a gift opening frenzy.”

“Frenzy” has often been the word that I would have used to describe the Christmas season. It is a time of intensity, with bright lights and shiny packages. If you watch Hallmark movies looking for “frenzy” or “intensity”, you’ll see it almost immediately. The colors are a little too bright, the plot points a little too shiny. Everything happens in a fixed, predictable way, which you would expect to feel safe and non-threatening, which it does, sort of. It also feels strangely frenetic, as if everyone is afraid they won’t be able to get to the next plot point in time. They rush around until the two leads finally get together in some kind of awkward declaration of affection which is meant to be sweet and meaningful, but feels so very empty that you wonder if robots were involved in the writing process.

Yes, I know. That is kind of the point of a Hallmark or Netflix Christmas movie.

But if the point is to get drunk on the bright lights and shiny wrapping for a day, I don’t want that. I don’t want the frenzy.

As I’ve been focusing on celebrating twelve days instead of just one or two of the Christmas, I have pondered this idea of slow unwrapping. I opened gifts on Christmas Day, and it was really fun. My parents bought me new baking pans, cooling sheets, and a very, very nice pastry cutter. Each day since then, as I’ve been at home nursing my sick body, doing something small and celebratory has felt like a little piece of chocolate. I drank a special glass of wine. I put gifts in boxes. I wrote notes to friends. I played music to remind me of Christ’s coming. I prayed prayers centered around Christ’s birth. Turns out that celebrations that feel like a slow unwrapping are a lot more fun.

There was a sense of mystery about it all, too, because I was not only contemplating Christ’s coming, but also how Christ changes everything by His arrival. Every ordinary thing- music, walking, being with family and friends, having a meal, breathing- is transformed by His unprecedented birth and made extraordinary. The dark is set alight by His glorious appearing.

I think this intense light is perhaps what all of those Hallmark movies are attempting to recreate. I don’t blame them for trying.

Celebrating the 12 Days, even in small ways, has been a really good and joy deepening experience. I know I want to do something like this again next year, although I may not write about it every single day if I do. It’s fun to share beauty with the world, and it’s also nice to have some space. So I may take that for myself next year.

Today, as I finished the last chapter of The Dark Is Rising, I was very moved by this line that Cooper uses:

…there was no break in the music that was in Will’s head, for now it had changed into that haunting, bell-like phrase that came always with the opening of the Doors or any great change that might alter the lives of the Old Ones. Will clenched his fists as he listened, yearning towards the sweet beckoning sound that was the space between waking and dreaming, yesterday and tomorrow, memory and imagining.”

I think a good celebration can also do what this music does for Will. It can remind us that we do not belong to this place, not entirely. We live in the waiting and the doing, the already and the not yet.

Merry Christmas!

The Twelve Days of Christmas: Day 10

In the past few days, I have been clearing out old photos and videos. I find myself a bit embarrassed sometimes when I do this. I found mementos of an old relationship, videos of me being very silly even though I thought I was being serious, and, of course, little things I saved that I can’t remember the reason for anymore.

It’s hard to let go and it’s also hard not to feel incredibly stupid for some of the things I’ve done in the past few years. It can feel like a heavy coat of distraction. The weight is claustrophobic.

As I have been contemplating Christ this week, I have been reminded that He is the good shepherd. He comes to lead and save and heal. It is easy to picture that passage in John 10, “I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for his sheep.” I have always pictured this as Christ sacrificing Himself on the cross. Today, though, I have been pondering what it means to lay down a life every day. To be a good shepherd, you would have to deal with countless distractions, minute and massive, every single day. There’s the weather, finding food, doing battle with predators, and making sure you have shelter each evening. You would have to do it with incredible focus, and the sheep would not be very helpful.

You would also have to deal with shearing.

My brother in law is a sheep and alpaca shearer. He frequently shares footage of sheep weighed down by their heavy, heavy coats of wool before he shears them. Some of them submit to his shearing and hardly move. Others, however, thrash, and he has to pin them in different positions to get all of the wool off. They look like different animals once he is done with them. The wool goes on to be used for all kinds of things like yarn and cloth and blankets.

Maybe this is what celebration can look like: the recognition that what has come before was good and necessary. We can print out those photos and laugh at those old videos and journal entries. It is also good and necessary to commemorate those things, shed them, and make them into art and gifts for others. It takes time to shear off the weight of an old year, though. I think that’s why we need more than just Christmas Day to celebrate and commemorate.

When I look back on those photos and those videos, I see someone who was trying very hard to understand her life. Where before I found a lot of embarrassment, I now find clarity. And I find that I can shed a lot of that old weight now, helped by experience and my very good shepherd. There is growth to celebrate and commemorate.

Psalm 72:12-14

For he delivers the needy when he calls, the poor and him who has no helper. He has pity on the weak and the needy, and saves the lives of the needy. From oppression and violence he redeems their life, and precious is their blood in his sight.

Found this song today and loved it. Merry Christmas!

The Twelve Days of Christmas: Day 4

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“We remember today, O God, the slaughter of the holy innocents of Bethlehem by King Herod. Receive, we pray, into the arms of your mercy all innocent victims; and by your great might frustrate the designs of evil tyrants and establish your rule of justice, love, and peace; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, forever and ever. Amen.”

The Feast of Holy Innocents is a tough one. Like the imprecatory Psalms, it is a day that can lead me to dwell on the darker parts of humanity and the more confusing parts of trusting God. Why throughout all of history do we see innocents murdered? And why does it seem that God does nothing?

Very big questions that I wish I had answers to. As I thought about honoring this day, I knew I wanted to do something that reminded me of innocence and also what the day itself commemorates.

I opted to watch the movie Klaus first. This has been a yearly ritual for me since it came out in 2019. For those of you who have never seen it, here is a trailer.

I love the animation style of this film, the buddy comedy between the postman and Klaus, and the way it portrays and encourages childlike innocence. One of my favorite exchanges is when the postmaster has to help a girl who does not speak English. I can’t say more without spoiling it. Whenever I watch this film, it reminds me that being kind and selfless does not come naturally to any of us, but it is something that we can learn and practice until it is a habit.

The second movie I chose for honoring this day was The Prince of Egypt. This one shows another murder of innocents: the slaying of the Israelite babies during the time of Moses. It’s a beautiful film marked by many instances of death. The first time I saw it, I was very young and we were in a Brazilian movie theater. Everything was dubbed, if I recall correctly, except for the songs. I could still follow along, though. When the song There Can Be Miracles came on, I remember feeling like I was going to cry. Even if I didn’t understand all of it back then, I knew it was a song about freedom.

The first character other than the leads that this song focuses on is a young girl who takes her grandmother by the hand and leads her toward their future. I can think of no better way to express what celebrating innocence looks like. This girl does not know where they are going. She only knows that this is the direction of freedom and in the purity of her belief she goes forward.

I still can’t listen to this without crying, which is also appropriate for today, I think. Honoring a feast day doesn’t mean you have to find a reason to smile. May we all look to the innocent ones in our lives and learn from their example what hope and faith can look like.

Merry Christmas!