Love the Cross.
I wake suddenly. My throat is dry in the mountain air and I can feel the bags under my eyes from scattered sleep. I am sore from sleeping on a couch that is too small for me and my arm is numb down to the fingers from sleeping on it and the RV is hot in the afternoon sun.
Love the cross. I tell myself this over and over.
One of the guys is mentioning something about washing the sleeping bags and I grunt a sleepy affirmative.
Dinner. Hamburgers, grilled chicken and sautéed peppers and onions. The girls decide on it. I think my creative cooking skills are starting to run dry. I love to cook.
Love The cross. Remember why we are here.
Day shift returns. “alright night shift, pack everything you need in the van.” Frantic cooking and talking. Half exhausted laughter from everyone.
Ahhh, hot food. A minute to eat and laugh. Ok, let’s go. “We forgot to pray.” Of course! How could we forget? “someone grab the books.” evening prayer. Calm. Finished. Ok let’s go! “Did you put my shoes in the car?” “Do we have enough water?” “Who is walking first?” “How far do we have to drive?” “How far are we walking tonight?” “What is the temperature outside?” A string of endless questions, my own and others’, stretching on towards infinity. So many that Atlas himself couldn’t bear them all.
Love the cross. This is bigger than me, or us.
Night. Walking. Strange sounds from the woods. Eyes in the tree line always watching us. The sound of our breathing and footsteps. Good conversation when our lungs can afford it. “Hold up, I have to use the bathroom.” A bush. The van, finally. “Wake up. It’s time to walk. Pull the van up and get ready we are going to keep walking.” My heart drops as I see the van disappear around a turn in the ever winding and eternal road. My legs hurt.
Love the cross. Who told you that being a witness to the truth was going to be easy?
The van again. The others begin to walk. Stretching. Laughing and joking at the prospect of sleep. Furiously driving 5 miles. A warm sleeping bag on the floor of the van. Almost heaven. A smile. Sleep.
Wake. Time to drive again. Half asleep. The miles feel like hours or centuries and that lovely floor is constantly calling my name.
Love the cross. It is everything.
A fit of nervous sleep. Up! Time to walk again. It is always coldest just before dawn and my legs are stiff.
Sunrise. Magnificent beauty, surpassing anything that could be imagined. So much strength and warmth and color in the world. This is the beauty that we walk for. This is the life which we journey to protect. These are the sons and daughters of God whose lives are more precious than gold. More precious, even, than this sunrise or the sun itself.
Love the cross. This is why we love the cross. This is why we love the road.
Joyful driving. Mass, so necessary for our survival and sanity. So necessary for our lives.
Breakfast. A minute to eat and laugh. “Day shift do you have everything that you need? Shoes? Water?” Morning prayer. Driving. So very tired. The RV park, finally. Clean up from breakfast. Shower. Never the same shower. Ahh, bed! I forgot to blog. I must remember to blog when I wake up. I must remember. Love the cross.
Central Walk ’12