PILGRIM’S WAY ‘07

After our 12 day pilgrimage, here is what each of us found:

God is…

Clay-present

Joey-relaxing

Andrea-beautiful

Rachel-generous

Megan-helpful

Lindsey-embracing

Sean-a good book

"I started reading it and it was exciting and I started to read faster, and like most good books-upon reading at a quickened pace- specific details and messages blur into the background leaving behind a basic gist of the plot, therefore calling for a reread."

Kathryn-continuous

Kristi-I am

Doc-gracious

Sally-family

The blessings that each of us brought home:

Megan- balance

Lindsey- peace

Rachel-rhythm

Kristi- we are never alone

Doc- a new view and relationship with God

Andrea- God does exist

Joey- the need to devote a little time each day to be one with God

Kathryn- trust God for he is in control

Clay- proof that God is with us

Sally- accepting who I am: a pelican a personal, professional and family member

What? I thought it was going to be only 12 days?

Well I was really not expecting to be writing a blog tonight because I didn’t know we would be having an extra day to our journey. As you all probably know the return trip didn’t go that smoothly. After the bus/train/Chicago trouble, and 41 hours of being in limbo between England and home, when we finally arrived at the airport I was too exhausted to be excited. But it helped a lot to see my fellow pilgrims who made it home last night running to greet us.

During the 5 hour scheduled lay over in Chicago, I joked with  Sally that with the way our travels had gone so far this day, I wouldn’t be surprised if our flight was cancelled, we laughed then, now it’s not so funny. So as we got the dreaded news that our flight was indeed cancelled the adults flew into motion trying desperately to get us all a flight to Nashville that night, but it did not work. So after our emotional parting Doc, Kristi, Rachel, and I went to Chili’s Jr. before going to sleep at the house of a very gracious friend of mine. So after a restless night of sleep and a huge breakfast we were back in the too familiar Chicago airport (I’ve grown to hate that place). And then something that no one saw coming happened… our flight was delayed (SHOCKER). So after a lot of “This is the best _______ ever” (the blank was filled with things that expressed our excitement about returning home like best jetway ever, best take off ever, best flight ever…) our journey was over. Well at least that part was over, as the haunted last page of the Pilgrim’s Way Guide Book states.   

On a side note, Sally is seriously contemplating changing  the last page of the Pilgrim’s Way Guide book that is all about not the ending of pilgrimage but in fact just the beginning, " the beginning of the adventure…"  The adventures of getting home seem to be all to real and frequent.   

So I think I’ve fallen asleep twice while writing this, but now it’s over, the final installment in the Pilgrim’s blog. This has been an amazing experience. An experience four of us got to reflect on while sharing midday prayer huddled around one book behind some newspaper things. So I tried to make this blog short and sweet because after this return trip I know how things that are too long can drive you to the brink of insanity. It’s good to be home!

                                    

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        Richard Clayton Boring

Coming Home.

our day started at 5:45 in the morning, when we had to
have our bags packed and ready to go by 6:00 in the
minicoach.  Only having 5 hours of sleep, i was
dilusional and im pretty sure everyone else was lopy
as well.  Waiting until about 6:10 and finally
noticing Sally;s calm expression, we foud out that our
dearly beloved Martin ad minicoach werent coming.  The
minicoach had no battery and our passports were in
that minicoach.  so plan b} run to the train station
and catch the next train to catch our flight.  so
sally told us to prepare and run.  And so today we
ran.  Never feeling more like a nerd, i waddled with
my 60lbs. bag with the rest of the waddling pilgrims.
We got to the train station where we met Martin and
our passports.  Leaving Sean with Martin (he was going
to Milan, not TN) we got onto the train and relxed.
When the train stoped at Manchester airport though, we
got ready to rumble.  Running through the airport, up
the escalators, i thought my tevas could do anything,
well except for protect my toes from my suitcase.
Still running (now with a bloody toe) we got through
baggage claim, and security (though my bag was
searched) and we settled into the plane we thought we
would miss.  Feet tired, splitting headache, and
emotionally drained i still did not fall asleep on the
8 hour trip.  Our plane landed safetly and we arrived
in chaicage and got through customs.  We found a nook
and cranny and spent the 5 hours we had to kill
finishing out our pilgrimage.  We were so excited to
be going home.  or so we thought; we soon found out
that our waddling and running had gotten us to a
cancelled flight to Nashville.  Trying not to wig, the
adults handled the situation the best they could.
Joey, Megan, Lindsey, Kathryn, and I would be going
home with Sally that night.  Clay, Rachel, Kristi and
Doc would be staying with some of CLays family friends
and leaving the next afternoon and 1:15.  Our flight
though was at another airport an hour away.  Hugging
Rachels, Kristi and Clays neck goodbye, i knew it
wouldnt be the same.  These friends had become my
family.  As much as it hurt to leave, i had to trust
sally.  Wiping tears away from my eyes and looking
back ( i swear i saw clays eyes glistening) i accepted
the fact that i had to put this in gods hands.  Being
no stranger to running we ran to catch a transit bus.
Now sitting on that transit bus listening to "lean on
me", im realizing that this song perfectly captures
the day.  Whether it was holding Kathryns hand, or
sallys embrace, or even just a simple smile, we
pilgrims are running to and leaning on God.  And even
though that would have been a perfect ending, i have
to add that theres a rainbow right over the airport.
Id like to believe that its a promise: a promise of
home.

After all as Sally says, pilgrims leave home in order to find home.

-Andrea Ley.

A Pilgrim Family…

Sally told us that every year pilgrimage was like leaving home to find home.  But this years was different.  We not only found home…we found a family.  Like a family, we shared many emotions together.  From joy and laughter during Eucharist to sadness and tears during goodbyes.   Although I felt homesick at times, everyone here has reminded me of family…or helped to teach me something along the way. 

A few nights, Sally came to our room before bed.  She read us goodnight prayers, and sang to us like a mother would sing to her children. 

When Andrea, Megan, Kathryn, and I shared a room it felt as though I had 3 sisters.  I became so much closer to these girls than I ever imagined that I would. 

The boys were like older brothers when we would play cards or board games after compline until midnight. 

Doc’s confidence in meeting new people taught me to be more open minded and not so shy. 

Kristy taught me the importance of trust and the reward of freedom. 

Rachel showed me bravery by agreeing to come halfway around the world with people she barely knew. 

Last but not least, Maritn has taught me that anyone can be a pilgrim.  He made our family complete…feeling like a big brother to some, and a grandfather to others.

John 15:12-13 More or less summed up my experience with this group:  "Jesus said, this is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you.  Greater love has no one than this.  That someone lays down his life for his friends."

This whole journey has been such an aweseom experience and it has changed my life more than I ever thought possible.

—Lindsey

Big and small

June 16, 2007

So the mini bus cramped with pilgrims and their accompanying luggage pulled off the country road and on to a major thoroughfare that led into the heart of York.  As we pulled in to the metropolis the atmosphere seemed to shift.  The quiet peaceful aura that we had grown to love vanished.  Leaving us with the fetid order of haste and bustle to burn our delicate pilgrim nostrils.  Martin deftly navigated us through the hordes of tourists and natives nimbly avoiding the plethora of motorists that littered the streets.  He managed to deposit us at our destination at the Bar Convent unscathed, however here we only had just enough time to dump our baggage and take a quick glance at our surroundings.  As soon as we were relieved of our worldly burden we were free to pursue spiritual needs.  So we left lighthearted and unfettered toward Yorkminster. 

Following a brief journey that led us across the whole of York atop the surrounding city walls we reached the ornate needleism of the minster.  Upon setting foot in the mammoth buidling I could not help looking upward toward the austentatious ceiling.  I surmised that this was the goal of the architect during the construction.   And indeed I admit his objective was achieved.  However, although I was led to crane my neck upward, I could not think of God or Heaven.  Despite the exquisite workmanship on the incredibly lofty ceiling, I could not see the Majesty of Heaven. 

The heavy stone that covered the minster simply did not allow me to see through to the heaven’s above.  Likewise, the walls plastered with memorials of those who had enough money and influence to place them there, drew attention away from my ultimate goal on pilgrimage to connect with God.  It was not in this place that crawled with tourists, that I would experience anything significant.  The distractions were simply to great.  As the minster began to close down for the impending evensong the sinking feeling of the day being a spiritual waste crept in to my mind.  However, much to my surprise, that was not the outcome of the day. 

Somehow Sally had managed to pull a few strings that allowed us to remain in the minster to have Vespers.  She led us quietly, so not to disturb evensong, into a small chapel, through a door that somehow I had missed earlier.  The interior was simpler, and smaller, and more to the point than the larger church that it resides in.  As we stepped over the barrier rope that blocked us from the front alter, a sound emerged.  That sound, evensong, grew and grew until it filled our small chapel with the sounds of angelic voices.  Here upon the stone floor, cut off from the distractions of the outer minster, we offered Vespers in whispers. Accompanied by the fitting sounds of organ music and the glorifying hymns.  The quiet of our voices contrasted the swelling of the music.

Within the Big, find the small…for it is there that closeness can be reached.

A Train Ride

A reading from the book of Joey. Thanks be to God.

Today was our adventure day out on the Moors. We left Sneaton Castle and bid goodbye to a very wet Whitby. The rain continued to pour as we headed for Grosmont to board a very special surprise. Martin stopped the bus and Sally reiterated that life is about the journey not the destination. She then related life to a train ride, and said that we’d better get aboard. That is when it was revealed we’d be taking a train from Grosmont to Goathland on the North Yorkshire Moors railway. We walked to the station to discover a vintage 1930’s passenger train, led by a turn of the century steam locomotive. We all forgot about the wet and the cold and were filled with excitement about riding the train. We bought our tickets and boarded the train. It was a photo opp. oasis and flashes were going off in every direction. With a loud blast of the whistle, the train promptly departed at 9:50. It was only about a 15 minute ride to Goathland, But every second was incredible.

We were forced to leave the rolling paradise and go back to the cold, windy, rainy world. We found Martin, and then it was off to a journey into the Moors…in search of the Waymark Crosses. The Waymark Crosses are placed throughout the Moors and they have helped pilgrims and monks to their destination. The windshield and side windows never fully cleared due to the weather. Up front we had a three man team. Martin driving, Sean navigating, and me wiping the windows so Martin could see. Sally planned for us to see three crosses. We found one, and it’s true identity is still in question. After roaming the Moors for about an hour, we had a nice tea / hot chocolate at a nice tea room we found. We then proceeded to St. Mary’s of Lastingham, to explore, and have a prayer session in the crypt.

Sally asked how the day could relate to life…and heres what I came up with:

The train represents life, and how there is a set path for all who wish to board it. To board a train, your safety and assurance of reaching your destination rests in the hands of the engineer. God is like the engineer in our lives, we must put all of our faith in him. English trains have seperate compartments for each group of passengers, and even if you do not see anyone else, you know that they are on the same journey as you. On a train ride, you’ll pass through tunnels where it is almost pitch black…much like sometimes in life. It seems that problems will arise, and you think that they are never going to end. But the tunnel always stops, and life can be seen again. On English trains, the final passenger car door is blocked off and locked…preventing passengers from falling off or risking injury. On a train you can never look behind at the tunnels or rough spots. Only looking forward to what lies ahead. Which is exactly what Jesus teaches. The Moors represent the rough and unpredictable journey that each of us face. Earlier I talked about Sean, me, and Martin and how we worked together to get through the mist. Though we are all on different journeys, we must rely on each other. The term every man for himself does not apply here. And finally, we find that God is being unfair, or unjust, so we get off the train. This is no problem. You can always come back to God.

There’ll always be another train.

That’s how railways work.

ALL ABOARD!!!!!!

A Day in Whitby

Greetings from the pilgrim groupie,

Pilgrim groupie?  Some might be wondering what constitutes a pilgrim groupie.  This is my 3rd consecutive year on pilgrimage.  I can’t imagine a life without pilgrimage being a part of it.  Since my pilgrim heart was woken from is dormant sleep my first year pilgrimage has been very much a part of my spiritual growth. 

As for our continuing journey, many have heard Sally say we pilgrim rain or shine.  We proved it today.  So we had a splendid breakfast before sending off from Ushaw, in the rain, to my most favorite place on earth Whitby, and our home for the night, Sneaton Castle.

We met our newest friend on our journey, St. Hilda.  We learned of her life with the assistance of Sister Helen, who is part of the order of the Holy Paraclete which is the convent attached to the castle.  We went off to the Abbey ruins where St. Hilda was Abbot, on the cliff, overlooking the seaside town of Whitby for the afternoon.  It was freezing cold, howling wind, raining, and the occasional sleet sliding.  But we pilgrimed on through the weather, with frequent stops for warm beverages.  We were blessed to say the Hilda liturgy in the Saxon chancel of St. Mary’s next to the abbey, before descending into the town via the famous 199 steps.

We fared the world’s best fish and chips or some variance for supper.  Our day was completed with Evening prayer in St. Hilda’s room at the priory and hanging out with Sister Helen.  The day culminated with the beautiful singing of the sisters as we joined them for compline in the chapel.  Their angelic voices sending us off to sleep.  We continue to grow spiritually, bond as a community, and reap the gifts of God on this journey.  We truly are a blessed pilgrim people.  Our love to all.

- Kristy 

Warmth

After Candlelight pilgrimage in Durham Cathedral

June 13th

Warmth. God warms my soul today. It was cold outside today, misting / raining and I was wearing Tiva’s with no socks. Yet even with my lightweight thermal on, I was warm. Warm in the bus while sharing an IPOD with Kathryn. And I was warm in the heavy stone Durham Cathedral. God’s arms were wrapped around me, keeping me warm in the coldest of places. I was warm when I saw a young Mary. A Mary made of wood. A Mary to represent all women. A Mary who was inhaling, to exhale “yes” to God. A Mary who looked so calm, yet the tension in her neck and back could tell a different story. I was warm when I saw the many places in which Harry Potter was filmed. I was warm standing at the alter where I had just shivered moments before. Warmth is a powerful thing. Just like light in the darkest of places, warmth can touch even the coldest of hearts. Whether my warmth today was felt lighting my first match or the warmth of the Holy Spirit warming my heart and warming my cold bare toes, God was warm today, and so was my heart.

–Andrea

All this, despite the fact that the heating didn’t work in our accommodations last night.

In the Small Space

England has been amazing!   WOW!  That’s an understatement.  It has been life-changing.  This is the halfway point, and I already feel changes.  Today was a yucky day outside (literally), but spiritually things changed for me.  I went into the poustinia and was one with God.  Finding God in a small, dark room was awesome.  We all went off in our space and reflected on where we are with God at this point in time.  Except no words were to be used.  We could only draw.  Later in the day we took a "hike" to Cuthber’s Cave.  Along the way we could relect by listening to music, silence, or just enjoying each other’s company.  It was easier for some people than others.  The journey seemed short with other people’s company!

Not seeing my parents and being homesick I thought would be extremely difficult for me.  However, I got past it after the first couple days.  Don’t get me wrong, I still miss my family a whole lot, it is just that I have come closer to God and realized He will always be there for me in time of need. 

"Seek the Lord while he may be found; call on hime while he is near." -Isaiah 55:6

We read this our first day on the pilgrimage at Shepherd’s Dene.  I feel it applies to this trime on the trip for me.  I am so glad I chose to make this pilgrimage!

–Kathryn

Finding home

We’re in

England

.  Wow.   I still can’t get over how strange that sounds.  We’re in an entirely different part of our world!  And although we are X amount of miles away from our families, friends, and home, I can’t help but realize that this place, this different country that we’re not used to, reminds me of and feels like home.  It seems as if everyone and everything that I miss from

Tennessee

is showing up on my journey in

England

.  I found my Mom yesterday on

Holy Island

during our shopping time.  She would have loved the quant little shops.  And my Dad?  Well, he’s on the journey with us. Through Doc, one of the adults.  Doc shared with us one night that he feels the need to talk to everyone he sees.  I could practically see my Dad sitting in his place.  My grandfather, who passed away last year and who I miss so much, is here also.  Every store I went in on

Holy Island

sold a numerous amount of bird books, and bird watching was one of his favorite hobbies.  It was hard to resist purchasing one and sending it to him.  Even my dog Marmalade showed up when the condiment basket at breakfast had marmalade in many flavors to put on toast.  All of these encounters made

Holy Island

feel like home, which is why I was sad when we had to say goodbye.  I became so comfortable there, and just like leaving my home in

Tennessee

, it was hard, and I didn’t want to do it. 

But I realized that it was time for me to find home in a new place: Melrose Abbey in

Scotland

. We arrived there close to lunch time, and I fell in love when I laid my eyes on the place.  It was so peaceful and comforting that I immediately began to feel, once again, at home.  It was interesting to see each person’s way of making the abbey his or her home.  Lindsey and I, for instance, laid in the grass while listening to music and coloring.  Kathryn and Andrea felt that journaling connected them to home.  Sean’s home was in the museum, and Sally and Joey found their own nooks and crannies.  Finding a home is important to everyone along his or her own journey to reach a level of comfort.  But maybe, although the places are peaceful and beautiful, our real home is with God.  All along our pilgrimage, Sally has asked us where we have found God, and my answer is always the same:  the peaceful and beautiful places we visited, the one that God created.  So maybe since our real home is with God, and God is always everywhere, each one of us will be able to find a home, no matter where we are or what we’re doing.

—Megan Roth.