Last night it began.
Well, if you can call a sending forth blessing from Bishop da Cunha of Newark Archdiocese a beginning, then it's fair enough to say it began. Then again, if that counts as a beginning, so can the moment I officially decided to go to Rio for World Youth Day seven months ago, and so can the moment I made the first deposit in my savings account for the pilgrimage, or when I finally paid the full $4,000, or when we started actually hosting fundraisers for the trip, or when I finally received my visa; and so can the few solidifying events that still remain like driving to the airport July 21, landing in Rio the next morning, and then starting to see the other pilgrims from around the world who will be incredulous at the same time as I because they'll realize they've finally arrived.
It's hard to find a true beginning really, because so much has already gone into this event, so many demands tug at us for attention, so many go-aheads, wait-a-seconds, 'do you have this and that's, 'did you do that and this'es, all pushing to be top priorities, that the true beginning, the true moment when I CAN REALLY SAY THAT I'M GOING TO WORLD YOUTH DAY never seems to really, actually, technically, literally arrive.
A bishop's blessing can be pretty convincing, though. So can driving an hour and a half up to Newark to get the blessing, come to think of it. That little adventure, in my beat-up Buick, with a phone GPS losing power, made me notice that even the smaller journeys in our every day lives can be seen as pilgrimages. Zigzagging through Newark, I certainly offered up my share of prayers while hoping that I make the right turn to get to the archdiocesan retreat center in Kearny. I'm still not exactly sure where it is.
We all make sacrifices. Every blessing comes with its sacrifices, including this chance to go to WYD. My sacrifice is an emptied bank account. Even though most of the trip has been paid for by others, this pilgrimage has already left me broke; and it hasn't even started yet. Nonetheless, just like our guide from Regina Tours told us last night, "No one has ever gone to World Youth Day and said I wish I hadn't spent all my savings to go."
Burning with anticipation, I can only hope that she's right.
Well, if you can call a sending forth blessing from Bishop da Cunha of Newark Archdiocese a beginning, then it's fair enough to say it began. Then again, if that counts as a beginning, so can the moment I officially decided to go to Rio for World Youth Day seven months ago, and so can the moment I made the first deposit in my savings account for the pilgrimage, or when I finally paid the full $4,000, or when we started actually hosting fundraisers for the trip, or when I finally received my visa; and so can the few solidifying events that still remain like driving to the airport July 21, landing in Rio the next morning, and then starting to see the other pilgrims from around the world who will be incredulous at the same time as I because they'll realize they've finally arrived.
It's hard to find a true beginning really, because so much has already gone into this event, so many demands tug at us for attention, so many go-aheads, wait-a-seconds, 'do you have this and that's, 'did you do that and this'es, all pushing to be top priorities, that the true beginning, the true moment when I CAN REALLY SAY THAT I'M GOING TO WORLD YOUTH DAY never seems to really, actually, technically, literally arrive.
A bishop's blessing can be pretty convincing, though. So can driving an hour and a half up to Newark to get the blessing, come to think of it. That little adventure, in my beat-up Buick, with a phone GPS losing power, made me notice that even the smaller journeys in our every day lives can be seen as pilgrimages. Zigzagging through Newark, I certainly offered up my share of prayers while hoping that I make the right turn to get to the archdiocesan retreat center in Kearny. I'm still not exactly sure where it is.
We all make sacrifices. Every blessing comes with its sacrifices, including this chance to go to WYD. My sacrifice is an emptied bank account. Even though most of the trip has been paid for by others, this pilgrimage has already left me broke; and it hasn't even started yet. Nonetheless, just like our guide from Regina Tours told us last night, "No one has ever gone to World Youth Day and said I wish I hadn't spent all my savings to go."
Burning with anticipation, I can only hope that she's right.
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