Pilgrimage Testimony

Hail Mary, full of Grace...

It’s not every weekend you walk 60 miles from Salem to Portland. But then again, our faith in God pushes us to do a lot of things we wouldn’t normally do, and He gives us the grace to do these extraordinarily crazy acts in His name, for His name.

I had never been on the Pilgrimage to the Grotto prior to this year, nor gone on any other pilgrimage, or even anything even remotely like it. Little did I know the spiritual productiveness that would come from giving just 3 days to pray, walk, and talk, which in turn, is eternally more rewarding than homework.

The Lord is with thee...

The theme of the pilgrimage was the Rosary.
Ah, the Rosary.
It was something I watched my parents do when I was younger, and I never understood the importance of it. As of late though, since I had gotten back into my faith, I had been saying quite a fair amount Rosaries in the last couple months. Key word there: “saying.” Praying the Rosary, now that’s different.

Blessed are thou among women...

It was the last mile of the pilgrimage. We stopped and gathered as a group. People can choose to take their shoes off at this point and walk the last mile barefoot if they so wish to. My feet hurt so bad, and my mood was so deep in rock bottom that I thought, “Hmm, maybe I won’t even feel it if I step on a piece of glass…” Of course, that wasn’t the only reason we made that last stop. The plan was to pray a Rosary together the last mile. All 120 of us, give or take a few.

And blessed is the fruit of thy womb Jesus...

We were stretched along the sidewalk. The whole 59 miles prior we had been stretched along the sidewalk too, but spread out in packs, moving at our own pace and liking, long gaps between groups. But for this last mile we were stretched together. The glue of our large group in bright blue shirts was the Rosary itself, each person a bead on the chain. Earlier in the pilgrimage, Father was able to use a sound system to project his voice to all of us, but that wasn’t happening now. The roles were divided up into men and women, but after the initial “Our Father” and the first “Hail Mary,” I lost touch with everyone. The voices of those in the back by Father was supposed to have carried up the chain of people towards us at the front, but it got lost along the way.

Holy Mary, Mother of God...

Those of us up front were beats behind in the Rosary, or maybe beats ahead, I couldn’t be sure. I strained my ears, and I heard the strain of others, wanting so badly to stay in sync with the group, but finding it very difficult. Soon enough I heard those around me start on their own praying of the Rosary, deciding it was best to carry on their own. Trying to swallow the disappointment in my throat from not being able to pray the Rosary all together, I followed suit. I clung to my beads, bowed my head, made sure to dodge the glass at my feet, and prayed.

Pray for us sinners...

And there you go. That’s faith. You cling to prayer, Mass, the Sacraments, anything it is that brings you closer to the King and His Kingdom. You try to dodge sharp shards that lay in wait where you step on your way to His destination, and you strain your ears to hear if you’re on the right track with others. But maybe you’re on an “Our Father” and it feels like the rest of the world is on the “Glory Be.” That’s how I felt. Out of touch, and a little behind.

But think about this: how many others around the world were praying a Rosary at the exact same time we were? How many lips moved in sync with your own, even if you were out of sync with those close around you? How many fingers fumbled on the same decade, and how many hearts and minds meditated on the same mysteries? Just because I couldn’t hear the person furthest in the back of the group doesn’t mean we didn’t sing the same melody in our hearts towards Heaven. We were connected through this devotion to Mary, and in turn, linking ourselves to each other through our Heavenly mother.

What I came to realize at the end of all of this is that the only reason I survived those 60 miles was because I had Mary walking next to me, in my hand, in my heart, and she would lead me to her Son.

Now and at the hour of our death...

When I got back to Corvallis to face my homework, tests, work, and other daily life things, I sensed that all too familiar heavy dread on my shoulders coming back to its resting place. I felt tired, annoyed, and the suffocation of daily duties was blocking my spiritual airways.
Then I prayed my first Rosary of the new school week.

Our Father…

Hail Mary…

And I was back on the road to the grotto, feet heavy but spirit light.
Mary beside me, Jesus in front of me.

Amen.