The Road to Sanguesa

From the rising of the sun to its setting, may the name of the Lord be praised!

Our day began quite early, as we drove an hour and a half to Sanguesa. We were going to celebrate mass at the Castle of St. Francis Xavier, but a gruelling morning was ahead of us, first. The bus dropped us off at the bottom of the mountains, approx 5km away from the Castle, and our task was to walk to the Castle. The heat is pretty difficult to ignore in Spain and the sun was beating down on us, but we were firm in the faith and began our journey. I noticed a sign telling us that this was part of the path to Santiago De Compostela and knowing that thousands of others have walked the same route we were walking strengthened me.

It was surreal to be walking down a highway (that was closed for this purpose), in the middle of such incredibnle landscape. God's incredible breadth and scope left me in awe of the land around us. The pilgrims were in good spirits and had wheelchair races, sang songs, took turns carrying the Canadian flag, and posing for pictures every so often.... triumphant in our destination.

The Castle, upon arrival was already full of 8000 pilgrims from around the world. We took some places under the trees and celebrated mass with one another. I really love singing in Spanish and the Mass aids that they provided for translation have really helped us participate in the Mass more. I felt so overwhelmed with joy, the heat had begun to dissipate (or at least not bother me so much anymore) and at the sign of peace, I hugged EVERYONE. Pilgrims are the best at offering hugs.

It was difficult afterwards, to walk away from that spot I was standing, but confessions were being offered and we had to get to them, if possible, and gather our pilgrims so we could head to the lunch area. What an epic meal time (in the casual sense of the word). Line ups that blurred like crowds and cooking pans the size of cars under tents with thousands of pounds of Paella (rice with egg and fish!) yum!!

It definitely reminded me ot when Jesus fed 5000. I do not know how every pilgrim was fed, but we were ! In abundance. There really are no words to describe the feeling when you're a hungry pilgrim. Feeling anxiety about food isnt normally something someone in North America experiences, but here we anxiously wait to be fed, after walking miles and miles in heat, enduring nausea and lightheadedness, pilgrims need to know these things (we often laugh about it because its not that big an issue, but we digress). Here's a foto of how they prepared our food!

The pilgrims got to spend the afternoon getting a tour of the Castle while I stayed with two of our girls who needed to lie down in the medical aid center (too much heat). We had a beautiful siesta (even though they were feeling ill) and we got to learn a lot about each other. I think the day at the medical center was scary, but really positive. Ministry occurs in the strangest places, but I am grateful that I know those pilgrims better now. When we loaded up the busses to go home, we prayed evening prayer and I was slightly distracted by the beautiful scenery out the window, once again. The sun was low on the horizon, but still clear white and hot. The pilgrims were much more united in prayer and the Salve Regina that we sang at the end was pure and resonant with everything that happened that day.

I am so grateful. We ended tonight with the pilgrims getting a free evening to themselves and the coordinators went out for a beautiful dinner with the town coordinators, priests and bishops. I had the most delicious sangria and now I am writing from my hotel room, with a wedding happening in the restaurant below. A man is seranading the tiny street just below my window.

 I am happy.