Grace on the Road

So… Hanging out on top of a hill in a hailstorm with lightning and thunder is undoubtedly not the smartest thing I’ve ever done. But it was glorious! I’ll get to that momentarily…

Santa Fe turned out to be a wonderful city. We knew when we left our hotel in the morning that we wanted to focus on the churches. We had been surprised last night at how walkable the city is. So we found a parking spot (with astonishing ease) and began our day at the Loretto Chapel. By the end of the day John and I both agreed that it was one of the highlights of the day. Loretto is a lovely chapel with a touching history. But what sets it apart from other places is its staircase.

The story goes that a way was needed for the nuns and their students to access the choir loft. But ordinary stairs would take too much room. The sisters prayed and an anonymous carpenter showed up. He worked on the staircase for six months, and then vanished without a trace and without leaving a bill. The staircase is an engineering wonder. It simply should not work. But it was used by the nuns and their students for over 100 years. Legend has grown around the staircase, and some believe that the carpenter was St. Joseph himself.

A short walk up the hill was the San Miguel Mission. Built beginning in 1610, it is the oldest known church in the United States. It is still in use today, although it has been repaired numerous times over the years.

We strolled back to the Cathedral Basilica of St. Francis of Assisi since we hadn’t really gotten to see it last night, although we went to Mass in its chapel. The church bells were ringing and could be heard for blocks. The contrast between the simplicity of the San Miguel Mission and the classical beauty of the cathedral struck me immediately.

I cannot do justice with words to how I was touched by visiting this special place. To pray there, even with tourists milling around, was sacred time.

All three of these churches are quite old by American standards and filled with history. “If walls could speak” who knows what stories they could tell? What have they witnessed over the years? What hardships did the people endure who came into New Mexico as settlers, both native and European? The landscape has a unique sort of beauty. But it is harsh. Survival can’t have been easy. And there were always conflicts, many deadly, between the natives and the Spanish colonists. I have so much to learn about the history of this part of the country. It breaks my heart to know that often it was church officials and church policies that fueled the conflict. Nevertheless, to walk into these churches today was a holy experience for me. Perhaps we are healing from some of the wounds of the past.

Behind the cathedral is a peaceful walled garden, tucked right into the busyness of Santa Fe’s historic district. There are life-sized sculptures of the Stations of the Cross. I was immediately struck by the fact that Christ is quite ugly. It was jarring, and I didn’t like these sculptures at all! But then I recalled the words of Isaiah 53:2-3. “He had no form or majesty that we should look at him, and no beauty that we should desire him. He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief; and as one from whom men hide their faces he was despised and we esteemed him not.” Perhaps I don’t have to actually like these sculptures. Perhaps I just need to love the One they represent.

A beautiful feature of this garden is the path that winds through it. The path itself is a rosary, with circles set into the path to represent the five decades of beads. What a perfect way to encourage meditation and prayer in this lovely, quiet place!

We were about ready to leave Santa Fe, but we had heard that Fort Marcy Park, set above downtown, was the place to go for wonderful views. It was a bit of a challenge to find, but once we did, it was worth the hunt. The views were indeed spectacular. But no sooner had we taken a few photos than the storm arrived. We could actually see the rain coming in. We saw lightning in the distance, heard the thunder, and then suddenly it was upon us, hail and all. Sitting in the car, watching the storm, I couldn’t help thinking of how this was a magnificent display of God’s power. The words of Psalm 18 came to mind and stuck with me for hours.

“He bowed the heavens and came down;
thick darkness was under his feet.
He rode on a cherub and flew;
he came swiftly on the wings of the wind.
He made darkness his covering, his canopy around him,
thick clouds dark with water.
Out of the brightness before him
hailstones and coals of fire broke through his clouds.
The Lord also thundered in the heavens,
and the Most High uttered his voice, hailstones and coals of fire.
And he sent out his arrows and scattered them;
he flashed forth lightnings and routed them.
Then the channels of the sea were seen,
and the foundations of the world were laid bare
at your rebuke, O Lord,
at the blast of the breath of your nostrils.”

And so we arrive back where I began. Standing on a hill in a hailstorm, marveling at the beautiful, majestic power of God. I truly don’t think I could have experienced anything like this back in Kentucky. There it is just not possible to see for miles the way it is here in New Mexico. Here I can’t help but sense how great God is, at least as much as my limited human capacities will allow me to grasp. And by contrast, I have to acknowledge how very small I am. There is no room here to think I can ever “win” if I decide to go up against God. I take this as a warning. But I am also aware more than ever of the goodness of this mighty God. Psalm 145 tells us,

“The Lord is gracious and merciful,
slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love.
The Lord is good to all,
and his mercy is over all that he has made.
All your works shall give thanks to you, O Lord,
and all your saints shall bless you!”

I could write so much more about today. I could write about the fun we had and the wonderful people we met at the olive oil store and the winery and the five and dime where John had a World Famous Frito Pie. I could write about the fabulous food we had at a creperie and at Sadie’s, an Albuquerque institution. But I think I’ll just leave you all to marvel at the amazing power of God with a few storm pictures.

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“Often she felt as though she had been picked up and turned about like a kaleidoscope, that all her complacent assumptions had been shaken up and reassembled in a different order.”

— Judith Lennox

I know how “she” felt! Today has been a day of having my assumptions exposed and proven wrong. Many of my preconceived notions surprised me by the very fact of their existence. Allow me please, in the spirit of humility and transformation, to share a few things I have learned today.

1. Not all gift shops in churches are inappropriate commercial ventures.
At San Felipe de Neri in Albuquerque I was surprised by the very reasonable prices on everything in the shop. When I commented on this, Steve, who appeared to be the manager, told me he viewed the shop as a ministry. Not only is it to raise funds for the maintenance of the church, but it is also a means to get religious goods into the hands of those who can be blessed by them. He readily accepted that I was a Benedictine sister and was pleased that I could pursue religious life as a married woman. He even gave me a discount because I was a sister to “bless your ministry”. Rachel, his assistant, gave us a lovely tour of their small museum. And Gene, who was working on a ladder in the shop, joined in the conversation.

2. One old church is not pretty much like another.
There may be some architectural similarities. But each church has its own unique features and history. At San Miguel de Socorro there is a local legend that during an Apache raid an angel appeared and scared off the attackers. And so the church was named for Saint Michael the Archangel who is believed to have saved the village.

3. The desert is not brown.
At least not mostly. At least in the part of New Mexico through which we traveled. In fact, we were stunned at how green it was. There were many obviously irrigated fields. But there was also a surprising amount of trees. Most appeared to be growing naturally. But what really caught us off guard were the pecan groves. Who knew that New Mexico is the country’s fourth largest producer of pecans?!?

4. There is apparently a good bit of water in the desert.
We saw a few lakes and plenty of standing water. It had just rained yesterday. Still, I would have expected the dry desert soil to soak up water like a sponge. We even passed a wetlands protection area south of Albuquerque.

5. The population of New Mexico and Arizona is not made up only of people of Native American or Spanish descent.
In fact, we learned that there is a sizable Czech community. They came to the southwest because of the agricultural opportunity. Again, who knew?!? (I don’t have a picture for this point, but just wait for the next one…)

6. Rocks are definitely not boring.
OK, I knew this. I did come close to minoring in Geology, after all. But we discovered a gem of a museum on the beautiful campus of New Mexico Tech in Socorro. (See what I did there? LOL!) The Mineralogy Museum houses a collection that rivals that of the Smithsonian. There were amazing samples of minerals of every size, shape, and color. We could have stayed for hours! I wonder if Jesus had these sorts of rocks in mind when He said that if His disciples were silent “the very stones would cry out”. (Luke 19:40) We marveled at the incredible variety and smiled thinking how much fun God must have had hiding all this beauty inside humble rocks. I wonder if He had even more fun hiding even more stunning beauty inside humble people? What do we need to do, what are we willing to do to uncover that beauty?

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7. Cheap wine can be plenty good!
We stumbled upon Luna Rossa Winery in Deming, New Mexico. We were ready for a break and so we went in for a tasting. Most tastings out here are a bit pricey, but Luna Rossa turns out to be the only winery in New Mexico to offer a free tasting. Who knew?!? And the wine was fabulous! Only a couple were more than $20 per bottle, also unusual for New Mexico. Plus…one of my favorites was called “Nini”, the name we called my grandmother. Of course, I had to buy a bottle in her honor, right?

8. John’s Aunt Diana was not too worn out to see us.
Coming to see her was the whole reason for even beginning to think about making this trip. But she is in the end stages of cancer, so we really expected, especially by the end of the day, that she wouldn’t be up for much. In fact, since we rolled into Benson after dinner time, we expected that she’d want to wait until tomorrow to see us. Nope! She wanted us to come right over to her house. We enjoyed a good long visit before settling into our hotel.

“A tornado of thought is unleashed after each new insight,” says Vera Nazarian. “This in turn results in an earthquake of assumptions. These are natural disasters that reshape the spirit.”

I began this journey looking to be transformed. I was cautioned not to have expectations but to be open to God’s working whatever transformation He desired. I’m only a few days into my pilgrimage. Some of the transformations I’ve noted have been subtle. Others I suspect won’t be fully appreciated until long after I return, if then. But, as I was told today by Steve at the San Felipe de Neri gift shop, “When you are on a pilgrimage, everything is a prayer.” Yes, Steve! Thanks for helping me remember.

“Good Friday is a day of sorrow mingled with joy. It is a time to grieve over the sin of man and to meditate and rejoice upon God’s love in giving His only Son for the redemption of sin.”

— David Katsk

How easy it is to go about our lives, focused on our own agendas, oblivious to the fact that there is so much more to every moment of our lives than what our senses perceive. We need to take time to pause, to reflect, to ask our good God to open our spiritual eyes to what is really real. The church calendar builds such times into every year. But sometimes I get to the end of days like Good Friday and realize, if I think about it at all, that I have let the stuff of life get in the way. Today was, in many ways, such a day. Yet our Lord would not let Himself be forgotten. He is so good!

Time with John’s Aunt Diana was sweet. She is a treasure, and it is sad to see her so weak. But her kindness and her sense of humor are still there. Her faith seems strong. And we enjoyed our carry-out lunch with her, sitting under a huge mesquite tree in her back yard, hearing about her life. She has such a caring heart. John says, “She’s been collecting stray cats and dogs, and stray people, as long as I’ve known her.” That’s quite a tribute!

Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote, “Good Friday and Easter free us to think about other things far beyond our own personal fate, about the ultimate meaning of all life, suffering, and events; and we lay hold of a great hope.” Being with Aunt Diana, knowing she has not much longer to live, on Good Friday especially, is a bittersweet reminder to me to think of such things. I want to hold in my heart times that are “good”. I want, at times, to freeze time, to not move forward. But I know what lies ahead, on the other side of suffering and death, is so much better! We must move on!

When Aunt Diana tired, we still had a good bit of the day left. John’s sister Alisa decided to spend the rest of the day with us. So we set off for Hereford, AZ to visit the Shrine of Our Lady of the Sierras.

This beautiful, peaceful place is located on the side of one of the mountains in the Huachuca Range. Getting to it requires quite a steep climb. Blessedly, there were men directing parking who allowed us to drive almost all the way to the top. I’m certain I couldn’t have physically made the climb.

We arrived during Good Friday services in the chapel, and I had an opportunity after the service to visit the icon of Christ in the Tomb.

I cannot express how moving this was for me. Although I did not openly cry, I could not hold back the tears of my soul. The image of Christ, dead in the tomb, pierced my heart. I would ask you to pause here and reflect…

After coming down off the mountain, we set off for a winery in Tombstone, AZ. Tombstone is…well, how can I put it? Just envision every Wild West cliche you can imagine, and you’ll have a good grasp on Tombstone. Alisa and I enjoyed a wine tasting while John strolled around taking pictures. The wine was delicious. The people were a hoot. And the contrast to Our Lady of the Sierras couldn’t have been more stark.

Isn’t this the way we live our lives so often? Mindless of eternity? Heedless of the deeper things of life? Like children playing…

“Good Friday is the mirror held up by Jesus,” wrote Robert G. Trache, “so that we can see ourselves in all our stark reality, and then it turns us to the cross and to his eyes and we hear these words, ‘Father forgive them for they know not what they do.’ That’s us!”

We decided on dinner at a favorite restaurant of Alisa’s in Tucson. We were pretty hungry by this time. But on the way we stumbled upon Holy Trinity Monastery in St. David, AZ. I knew about this place, but was unsure where it was. And then, suddenly, there was a huge Benedictine cross.

John and his sister were gracious enough to stop, and we spent a delightful half hour exploring. As soon as I walked into the chapel, I felt at home. I could have stayed for hours. The prayer garden, the cross, and the peacocks! What can I say? The peace of the place goes bone deep. I simply must come back. It is one of those “thin places” where the mundane touches the Holy.

We did eventually make it to Tucson, to La Parilla Suiza, where I enjoyed a delicious green corn tamal. The live mariachi band was incredible, but conversation was necessarily limited. It’s tough to hear anything else when a trumpeter is standing right next to you! The young man playing the harp was amazing. He didn’t even look at the strings.

By the time we made it back to Benson, I was flat out exhausted. So I’m actually writing this on Saturday morning. I’ll leave you with this message from a surprising source:

“God did not bear the cross only 1900 years ago, but he bears it today, and he dies and is resurrected from day to day. It would be poor comfort to the world if it had to depend upon a historical God who died 2000 years ago. Do not then preach the God of history, but show Him as He lives today through you.”

— Mahatma Gandhi