“To travel is to take a journey into yourself.”
—Danny Kaye
I’ve been on the road now for about five weeks. I’ve observed several things about myself. Most of them are just beginning to sink in. (Perhaps some of you have known these things about me all along. I can be a bit thick sometimes. Please be patient with me. 😛 ) The question now is what difference these observations will make once I return to “normal” life. I suppose time will tell, won’t it?
Today was a day of recovery, largely, from the last couple of tiring days. I suspect I feel more refreshed because, for the first time in over a week, my day began with Mass. I was blessed to worship at St. Francis Xavier Cathedral in Green Bay, Wisconsin. Having quiet and praying the Daily Office on my own is good, and even necessary. But it is no substitute for being fed in Holy Communion. So my first observation has to do with the necessity of attending Mass. There simply is no substitute…and I can easily take the privilege for granted.
After Mass, we drove to the Shrine of Our Lady of Good Help in Champion, Wisconsin. There were not many people there when we arrived. In fact, for a time, we had the gardens to ourselves. This place is uncomplicated and peaceful. It is out in the middle of farm country and even smells a bit like a farm. Here I was reminded how much I have come to treasure simplicity and quiet. The peace of places like this seeps into my soul and heals something deep inside. I am learning that, when I return, I need to seek out such places to visit on a regular basis.
We spent the afternoon driving along the shore of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula en route from Green Bay, Wisconsin to Petosky, Michigan. For much of the afternoon we had wonderful views across Lake Michigan. I began to think about how water has been a sort of theme for this trip, even in the desert where water is a rarity. And I’m beginning to realize just how very much I love being near water. Whether it is meandering in a stream, cascading over a waterfall, or lapping on a shoreline, it is mesmerizing. It comforts and soothes, but also refreshes. Where can I be near water at home? Is there perhaps a place for a small fountain or koi pond? Would I even be able to care for something like this? Hmmm… Something to consider…
Late this afternoon we crossed the Mackinac Bridge. First I learned that I’ve been pronouncing it all wrong. Apparently, it’s “Mak-i-naw”, even when it’s spelled with a “c” at the end. Soo… I guess I’m not as smart as I thought I was. 😉
More importantly, though, John pointed out that I am no longer nervous crossing bridges, as I have been for most of my life. The Mackinac Bridge is longer than the Golden Gate, which I also crossed with no problem. In fact, I had fun on both bridges. So I’ve observed that I’ve begun to confront some of my fears and they no longer have the hold on me that they once did. I appear to be, slowly but surely, being transformed.
While we were stopped somewhere along Lake Michigan’s shore, I picked up a few smooth rocks to bring home for my garden. I realized, again, how much I enjoy the solidity and the variations of simple rocks. There’s something about holding them, perhaps the way they absorb the warmth of the sun, or even the warmth of my hand. There’s something about the fact that they are ancient, and have survived the ravages of time. In fact, often it is time that has exposed their inner beauty. They remind me that, solid as they seem, they, and all of creation, are changeable and temporary. Only our God is eternally steadfast.
“For who is God, but the Lord?
And who is a rock, except our God?—
the God who equipped me with strength
and made my way blameless.
He made my feet like the feet of a deer
and set me secure on the heights.”
—Psalm 18:31-33
