Last August, I walked a 110km, seven-day pilgrimage from Middle Musquodoboit to our Archdiocesan Cathedral in Halifax, Nova Scotia. After completing my Master’s degree in July, I worked for a month to build strength and endurance, break in hiking shoes, collect the necessary gear, and prepare my heart for the journey. Kind friends lent me a backpacking bag, cot, and walking sticks, and I invested in a water reservoir, wool socks, and footcare supplies. By early August I was not fully conditioned to the daily walking distance, but neither was I willing to back down from the challenge. 
 

On Day One, I started with a full pack; I aimed to be as prepared as possible, stuffing my bag with food, water, extra clothes, toiletries, blister care items, and my bible. I hardly used any of it, ended that day slightly sore, and decided to shed a couple items the next morning. More items were abandoned the following day. Over the week, I learned what was essential and what I could afford to leave with kind volunteers who transported our sleeping gear. This process of “letting go” was key in becoming a pilgrim, and I was increasingly motivated to lighten my load as I realized that it would alleviate stress on my muscles and joints and enable me to enjoy the way — living simply, with greater reliance on God's providence. 
 

My most painful day was Day Four. By then I had multiple blisters on my feet, my body was sore, my pace was slow. I was late to leave and, as I started the day’s trek I made the mistake of checking my email inbox to find a job interview rejection. I expressed my disappointment in prayer, grumbling as I walked. I was nowhere close to having St. Paul’s ability to “count everything as loss.” At the first water station I entrusted my walking sticks to a volunteer, to release more weight, but soon my hips informed me that that was a mistake, and I continued with increased pain and discomfort. However, in my moments of suffering, Christ helped me move through and beyond my hurt to press forward toward the goal.
 

First, God put two fellow pilgrims on my path who shared child-like joy and wonder; their vulnerability brought me outside of myself. He drew my attention to wildflowers on the roadside, which I picked for a friend’s birthday bouquet. Another pilgrim caught up to me and lent me her walking stick for a section. With each painful step, God invited me to deeper surrender, and He gifted me with joy through community. I ended that day rejoicing and giving thanks for everything.
 
​
Each day God, similarly, invites us to spiritual pilgrimage — calling us to “[forget] what lies behind and [strain] forward to what lies ahead.” He is our companion as we journey, and our destination. Even as we encounter suffering, He is always prepared to transform it and grant us freedom and new life.


​

Kendra L.
​

​The wild animals will honour me, the jackals and the ostriches; for I give water in the wilderness, rivers in the desert, to give drink to my chosen people...
 

This scripture painted a vivid image in my head as I reflected on it: blue, running waters amidst the green forest; animals thriving in this space as the Lord intended. Balance. Peace. 
 

Being out in nature is refreshing, calming and grounding for me. I like to walk outside when I’ve had a long day or when I need a change of scenery because things feel overwhelming. There is always something purely beautiful about nature; you get to see God’s amazing creations and perfect design. 
 

I often do my best thinking and experience times of deepest prayer when I’m in nature, witnessing the many things that God provides us. Acknowledging this gift makes me feel thankful and at peace. But, when I venture back indoors to meet the stress of daily life, its responsibilities and uncertainties, I can easily forget how much the Lord wants to be my provider and comforter. 
 

It certainly takes lots of work, each day, to trust that God will provide what we need, especially in times when the way He provides for us is not a way that we understand or originally thought we needed. As an anxious perfectionist, I often struggle with this. It can be difficult to release control over my life. I used to fear that if I loosened my grip and let God in, things might spiral out of control. However, this could not be further from the truth. 
 

This is a lesson that we have to learn for ourselves, but I can confidently say that each time I have placed my full trust in God, I am amazed by His grace and the way that He provides exactly what I need. In my humanness, I often forget this lesson until the next time I find myself with a strong grip on whatever it is I am anxious about. But, each time, the Lord is patient and waiting for me to let Him provide.
 

I strive to be like the jackals and ostriches: honouring the Lord and trusting that they will have all of the water and nourishment they require. I invite you to pray with me for the courage to trust that the Lord will always provide for us what we need, always. Amen.




Megan Noye
​

prodigal
adjective

1. wastefully or recklessly extravagant
2. giving or yielding profusely; very generous; lavish
3. lavishly abundant; profuse

noun
    a person who is wasteful of his or her money, possessions, etc.
(www.dictionary.com/browse/prodigal)

Lord, forgive me. I have squandered so much in my life! So many opportunities taken for granted, blessings wasted. To arrive at the place of feeling unworthy of the love of the Father was an essential stop on my journey. I remember when it happened to me; sitting in front of the Blessed Sacrament, I felt an unbidden desire to get down on the floor, as low to the ground as possible, before the Source of Love, even though I had a hard time believing He loved me as much as I was told He did. 

It’s a place of desolation; a desert place, a barren place, a lonely place; in the fields with the pigs. It's the place where regret lives, and where the temptation exists to believe that we are our mistakes, that we as people are past the point of redemption. It’s the subtlety of our unworthiness before God where it becomes difficult to tell the difference between shame and guilt — but it is essential that we do. 

When we fear the Lord because we see Him as a harsh, punishing disciplinarian who wants to keep us in a place of unhealthy submission, it makes sense that we would find ourselves in a place of shame. This is the place where our sorrow and regret can be tied up in our image of who we are, and who He is. But when we want to get low before Him because we perceive Him as loving and merciful, and want to please Him because we know He loves us and we don’t want to disappoint Him — this is the place where God can really turn things around! 

As much as the wayward son was prodigal in wasting his inheritance, I love that God is even more prodigal with His love. The father in this story ran toward his son on the road, overjoyed at his return, regardless of what he had done. The disposition of the son is what has changed… and this is what we must consider for ourselves.

As I walk down the road like the prodigal son, I realize that my face must turn away from selfishness, an unhealthy fear of God, and seeing myself through a lens of shame. Easier said than done, when at certain times in our lives, we are simply doing what we feel we need to do to survive; but it is essential to the spiritual life. 

God’s wastefully extravagant love for us is real and true. 

Help us to rest, Father, at home in the unfathomable abundance of Your merciful embrace.   




Lindsay Elford
​