Closing Thoughts

Pilgrimage 2008;Living on the Borders

From Iona to Holy Island

We have prayed with our feet.

We have traveled miles and miles across far more than land.

We have listened with God.

We have watched for God.

Our eyes have been opened to see God.

But most profoundly, we have laughed with God.

And I am positive, God has laughed with us.

Pilgrim on.

-sally

Pilgrim Prayer

Grant to me, Lord Christ, for this pilgrim journey through life

your ready hand to guide me, your light to go before me,

your protection to guard me from evil,

your peace to rest within me, your love to sustain me;

That through all the joys and sorrows that meet me

I may know the promise of your abiding strength,

until I reach my final home-coming with you for ever.

Amen

Martin’s Words

Hello to everyone! We have finally reached the beginning of our adventure. Having driven them safely to all of their destinations the other pilgrim’s have finally driven me to accept a walker. All future pilgrims please note, that the time taken to reach destinations may be a tad longer.

We have been blessed with many gifts and sound advice of Sally’s Aunty Lucy (the newly renamed satellite navigation system). Cleanliness, being next to Godliness: There have been no end of willing volunteers for the newly instigated system of detention (bus cleaning duties) as decided by me, Martin, the driver. However, On a more serious note, we have discovered the incredible joy of laughter with God which I of course, being by nature serious, have had some trouble acclimatizing, but, by the grace of God I have managed to help the other pilgrims to see the more serious side of a pilgrimage in Britain.

God Bless you all. And please, please, pray or me.

Martin

P.S.: Love to all pilgrims that I know, and Clay!

My Life In Ruins

I want my life

to become ruins,

daises to grow

where once floors were swept.

Dear God, dismantle

all the structures -

the walls I built,

closed idea I kept.

I want the sky

to be my ceiling,

birds to fly through

windows once shut tight.

Remove my heart

from its cold, stone casing -

Expose it to your

elements and light.

I want my life

to become ruins,

peaceful, open,

welcoming the breeze.

Dear God, tend to

the greening of my spirit -

visit me beneath

the sheltering trees.

Cheryl Anne Mohr

Pilgrimage 2008

Just One More Step David Johnon

I stand at the archway

and as I peer through,

I see a dark cloud,

And a vision of you.

I’m called to step forward

to walk into the storm

I am ready, I am willing

to take my true form.

My pathway is jagged

My journey is rough

The storm tumults around me

I’ve had enough

You keep calling me deeper

To take one more step

Just one more step

The rain batters my face

The wind blows against me

The sky is so dark

That I cannot see

You keep calling me deeper

To take one more step

Just one more step

Finally I step through

on a glorious day

The sun shines bright

the wind held at bay.

I’m a pilgrim, Lord

A warrior called by name

And after this journey.

I do not see things the same.

You keep calling me deeper

To take one more step

Just one more step.

Holy Island

Today, we continue our journey on Holy Island. Last night we were served bangers and mash at Marygate for dinner, a delight from a James Herriott novel. This morning at St. Mary’s Church on the island, we heard a sermon from Kate Tristram, one of the first woman vicars in the Anglican Church. We had heard so much about her and the theme this morning was Saint Barnabus; a very sophisticated older woman with a quiet tone who leads one into the atmosphere of the thin air of the island. And clearly we have experienced it throughout our stay. The closest analogy is from Tinkerbell, who tells Peter Pan that he will always be able to find her during that period of time between wakefulness and dreamy sleep. The ones who have gone before on this cherished sacred “old sod” encircle those of us burdened with the responsibility of our stressful world.

After lunch we all gathered at the abbey ruins to renew our baptismal vows.

This afternoon, some of us went out to the castle that King Henry VIII built from the ruins of the abbey. The docent remarked, “Henry has much to atone for.” The girls had fun looking for the hidden cellos in the castle rooms. They found all of them and were awarded hedge hog stickers. The view from the castle was exceptional. It gave a new perspective to the whole island.

Vespers was either taize at St.Mary’s Church or a trek to St. Cuthbert’s Island. At the taize the Pilgrims were treated to contemporary chants with the lilting voice of Donna in the background. Those who had Vespers on St.Cuthbert’s Island were treated with the water receding just at the right moment to allow us to finish our time on the island.

Compline tonight included an exercise in which each of us wrote what brought us closer to
God about each of the others in the group.

Kate Tristram’s comments about her ordination as a woman priest:

“When I heard the results, my feelings were incredulous joy that this barrier had fallen for women in general; apprehension about all the division and difficulty likely to follow; sheer terror at the thought that this awe-inspiring role might actually be mine…But my first Eucharist felt right, so have subsequent Eucharists and other developments in ministry which have happened since.”

As two women lawyers who have forged new paths, we understand!

.

Thanks be to God

Pilgrim down.

Mary and Vanessa

Living on the Borders

I’m posting a message from our friend David several days after it was written, I believe. My apologies. Although the pilgrims have journeyed onward, David’s words continue to be important and relevant for all of us, who are praying for these pilgrims and following on their journey.

Living on the Borders

Hello all. This is David.

i’m writing this from hettton hall – our lodging while we are in northumbria community. we have had a full day today, pilgrimming to some of the border abbey’s (Melrose and Kelso Abbey) with a stop a long the way for a “man’s moment” It was a generous of the women (They are 11) to allow the three men of this trip their time to shine. We stopped at a little car park and after about a 1/4 mile walk, we came upon reason for stopping. Suddenly out of the woods appeared a statue, at least 25 feet tall, of William Wallce (i.e. Braveheart). It provided many picture opportunities and there were several grunts from the men of hte group. Wallace was a warrior of Scotland for sure and it certainly brought out the testosterone from the three of us!!!!

But that was just a little side trip. Our first stop today at Melrose Abbey. The ruins that have been built since the 14th century. Incidentally, Robert the Bruce heart is buried there (another of “Bravehearts” warrors).

I was particularly struck at melrose by the “screen” There were two kinds of monks that lived at the abbey. Proper monks and working monks. It is typical in abbey’s to have a screen that divided the Proper monks from working monks but i have never before seen it so dramatically pointed out. There was literally a stone wall with a small doroway between where proper monks would worship and where lay monks would worship. it was virtually impossible for a working monk to actually SEE what was happening.

As we traveled the borderlands today – it really got me thinking about how life is. how sometimes we can put up our own borders. perhaps not so physical but spiritually at least. It’s easy sometimest o beleive taht some people are “closer to God” or are “holier” than others. As I saw the screen at the abbey today, it brought that image to life. it’s something that seems to be built into us. It is thought that has been with us for centuries.

my prayer is that we would all remember that this life is a pilgrimage. we are all living life on the borderlands – we are living life this side of eden, trying to make it back to paradise. what a blessing it is to know that god welcomes all who are willing to accept him and that in god’s eyes there is no screen.

grace and peace to you all.

david.

The Communion of Saints

Today was a very relaxing day. We are at Lindisfarne (Holy Island). This morning we went to the Lindisfarne Abbey. On our way to the Abbey this morning we met a really nice lady named Kate. She told us about the history of the Abbey. That was our first walk of the day. We spent the whole morning at the Abbey and had mid-day prayer on the grounds before coming back to the house for lunch. After lunch we had a quiet hour to continue writing a letter to God. Then later in the afternoon we took walk to the beach, shopped and even went for tea in a local tea shop. After compline tonight we are walking to the end of the island to watch the sun set.

Rosibel Hege

Following St. Cuthbert

This morning we awoke in the North Umbria Community at Hetton Hall, the mother house of the community. We had breakfast and morning prayer with the community and then had alone time. Some went to the little chapel,poustinia or to the quiet garden since the first two were always “occupied”.

After Lunch we loaded up to hike St. Cuthbert’s path to his cave. Once again this was through the sheep fields with their droppings. They act like we are invading their space and run to protect their young. This time the path was dubbed “the cairn at pooh path”. we seem to have a consistent theme since the Iona house was named “the house at pooh corner” by Martin. We hiked up to St. Cuthbert’s cave and then on up to the top where his cairn is located. The weather held up and it was warm and sunny. The view from the top was beautiful and clear. We could see the Holy Island from there. On the down Ashley decided to serenade us with a little ditty she made up:

Oh she’s walking through the Heather

Why don’t we just let her

In this glorious weather

I don’t know anyway better

We are pretty sure that she won’t make it in the music industry!

We departed from the North Umbria Community with a lovely song and travel blessing to continue traveling St. Cuthbert’s path. Martin dropped us off at the beginning of the pilgrims path to Lindisfarne the Holy Island. Lindisfarne is a tidal island and the crossing can only be made twice a day when the tide is out. The shops are only open according to the tide too. The walk took us about an hour and a half. Most of us chose to go across with bare feet since it is sea water, sea weed and MUCK. Donna chose to wear shoes and got them stuck. She sunk up to her ankles and David had to pull her out. sally chose an old pair of sandals and tried to prance her way around trying to avoid the muck. The group in front said it sounded like someone was dying back there. When we were done she of course was the one with the most muck on her feet. Those of us that took the barefoot route were fairly clean. Since we were going to be late for dinner Martin chose his stomach over the cleanliness of the bus and picked us up to take us to the Marygate house. Charlotte’s new claim is that “God is in the muck”. We all arrived starving and had a nice dinner and compline in “The Crypt”

Lisa Whitten

Hidden Places Charlotte Fraser

Old ruined abbeys.  They’re essentially mind-blowing.

So we started our day doing a 10-second pack up at Kingdom Hall (Martin tends to refer to it as Kingdom Come) after a quick breakfast of cereal and toast (unless you’re Martin and complain that the toaster is broken when it’s perfectly fine).  We then shoved our bags back into the minibus, praying the end of the bus wouldn’t break off due to the weight of all the rocks we’re carrying back and made our way through Paisley and out of Glasgow to the motorway for a 3-hour drive to Dryburgh Abbey.  I spent most of it indulging myself in my new St. Margaret book, studying her background and some of her upbringing until we passed Edinburgh where I searched vainly for Edinburgh Castle, where the most famous stained glass window of my patron Saint lives since it is the place where she died.

Next came searching for the ATM and a bank since some people had dollars to convert and others needed cast via Visa.  So we drove from there through a few more wee towns, a bit of countryside, and drove right past Dryburgh Abbey.

Let’s just say, you have to know the place in order to get there.  In fact, it took a good five minutes off the main road before we even saw a sign for the abbey.  The front entrance also gives no hint of the place – just an overgrown iron gate with a Historic Scotland sign up front that can easily be overlooked if you don’t know to look for it.  You then wind through the gift shop, down the trail for a few minutes, and boom – it’s there.

And it’s incredible.

At first you encounter a small cemetery with a few huge trees and you see just a touch of the ruins.  And then it overpowers you.  I’m not sure if it’s the age of the place, the awe it inspires, the amount of holiness and prayers concentrated in that ground, or your imagination going into overload trying to picture the completed place.  At any rate, the light rust colored ruins are powerful.  I walked into the cloister with Kristi, distributing lunches and making faces at the prawn cocktail flavored crisps when music started playing and tickling my eardrums.  I cocked my head, said I’d be right back, and walked toward the sound.

Nuns.

Singing.

In the one place left in the abbey that remains whole – the chaper house.

I could have died right there being the happiest person alive.

In amidst all this ruinous area, some broken bits and precariously perched pieces left of some truly awe-inspiring building, there was a whole piece of it left perfectly intact.  Although it was recorded nuns singing, I didn’t care – I knew that surely the angels in heaven sound like the music sounded in that chapter house.

We had lunch in the now grass, buttercup, and daisy filled floor of what’s left of the cloister, watching the sky turn blue, the clouds go gray with the strikingly bright halo of pure white light around each, and the grass turn emerald.  This was followed by mid-day prayer.  As we prayed, I couldn’t help but feel that as I lay down on the grass the hundreds of years of prayer, holy sacrements, pilgrims footsteps, and blessings from monks were swelling up out of the ground into my body.  These people had prayed so long ago for so long- and I felt it.

Afterwards we had an hour to pilgrim about.  I put on my iPod and wandered about, taking picture after picture.  Sally talks about us being pilgrims, not tourists, and to reflect that in our picture taking and pictures are my thing – my sacrament.  It’s my outward and visible action of inward and invisible grace that God gave me to see that certain little detail or perfect shot – and so I take it.

We then traveled a few minutes into Jedburgh and ventured into Jedburgh Abbey.  As soon as I stepped off the bus, I knew this place was even more stunning than Dryburgh.  Something about the sides of the nave still being fully intact, with their pinkish red stone slapped against the bright blue and gray clouded sky drew me in.

I took pictures of some of the under croft and dining room whcih was made visible on the way to the church part of the abbey but walking inside the nave truly felt like walking inside Heaven’s Church – more than Notre Dame, more than Glasgow Cathedral.  It truly felt like God was whispering in my ear and said “Here, this one!”, “Oh, Oh, get this!”

After a few minutes of being fully engulfed in the nave, I once again noted a cemetery.  If you read my last post, you know that me and cemeteries really like each other.  While I found some really neat gravestones and monuments, I kept hearing “This isn’t it, but it’s good.  Just keep looking.”  I got to one end of the abbey and if you didn’t look twice you wouldn’t have seen it amidst all the construction work.  Then I heard “You’re getting the right idea.  Look for what’s hidden, what blends in, what you normally wouldn’t explore…”

As I looked to the opposite side, which I greedily photographed like a madman earlier, I saw a simple doorway on the ground at one side.  I walked toward it and saw there was a stairwell with a simple arrow pointing me to head up the skinny stairs.  I proceeded using the rope attached to the stone interior as my guide rail, when after what seemed like ages I came to a walk across.

I walked out to the middle.

And there, Lord knows how many feet up in the air, I saw almost all of the abbey and was yet again floored.

I actually asked aloud, “Is this it?  Is this really it?  Is this even real?”

Sally would be proud.  I actually had a voice that very clearly, very distinctly, very loudly said – YES.

Hidden places in old ruinous abbeys.  They bring us closer to God.

Not to mention, they make some pretty amazing pictures.