I’m glad it’s over, and hope and pray that the barking dogs will stop barking very soon.
In its aftermath, I’m left with an overwhelming desire to go on a pilgrimage.
I want to see beautiful things. Not just see them, actually, I want to eat, breathe, and drink in beauty. And by beauty, I don’t just mean good pasta and ice-cream, or a lovely slice of peach in the evening sun. I mean something that’s been touched by grace–a drop of God’s blood on the steps he walked to Calvary, a fiber from the habit of Saint Theresa, a splinter from the wood of the Cross, the bones of Saint Peter.
I want to walk alongside fellow seekers looking for evidence that God lived, and that he changed people. And when I find this evidence, I want to get down on my knees and kiss it.