To pray for myself, to be at peace, is strange for me. I pray first for all those around me who need healing, hope, and help. I pray for my family, my grandchild, my new grandson to be born, my daughter and my son and their partners, and my husband. I pray for my other mother, my mentees, my friends, and my friends/priests who are shepherds of peace and joy. I pray for the USA elections to reflect the wisdom and soulfulness of the majority, not hatred towards young women, not hatred towards immigrants, and not hatred towards homelessness.

In this pilgrimage, I asked for my dad, mom, and Rose – my Ate to connect me to folks with great temperament, good hearts, minds, and souls.

I saw the beauty around me and sparkling souls.

I sought them out, speaking to Dennis, who shared he gets better with every pilgrimage. He walks slowly, and with each step, he gains his strength after three spinal fusion surgeries. He has embraced his disability and wears braces to steady his walking. He celebrated him with us, 38 pilgrims from California, New Mexico, and local Mexican staffers, his 71st birthday.

I met Celina, who lost her husband of 25 years yet speaks of his love, his vacation surprises for her, her loving dad who lived simply, her brother who was special to her and every gift she purchased intended for her sister, a friend or a niece, even how to give a time with prayers for those in need. I took her photo at a makeshift silver mine because she talked of her only grandson, the miner. I also took her photo at Taxco, with a city view.

I witnessed the special bond of a mother and son, a respectful intimacy of support and love. How’s your son? I asked of Rosa about Edgar. “He is my miracle,” she said. How is that so, I asked? “At five months of pregnancy, my water broke. I had to stay in bed all four months until birth. If I walked and stood up, I bled. At 11 months, he got sick, and we took him to the hospital. Someone gave him unpotable water, and he got parasites. When he drank guava juice, he got well. That’s why we like guavas a lot.”

I shared with MJ, Celina, and Celeste how in 2016, I lost my mother. Unexpectedly, 60 days after, my sister Rose. I said goodbye to her before going on vacation, and in the middle of my vacation, my daughter called me to share the news of her death. I asked myself two questions: do I join the dead, or do I live a life of maximum zest and service to others? I chose the latter and wrote, “Even The Rainbow Has A Body: Distinct Artistic Legacies.”

I woke up with a beautiful dream of my mother rearranging my shelf in the dining room, showcasing candles, family photos and sacred art. It was my first night of a very long, restful sleep after averaging 3 hours of sleep for the last 7 days.

Fr. Joel Bugas gave a rousing-the-soul retreat talk last night. I struggled to keep awake, yet my heart absorbed its essence, go with the Holy Spirit, make mass a priority to witness the consecration of the Eucharist, be in communion with the Holy Spirit, the angels and saints. He took time to explain the sins of pride, isolation, anger, wrath, and gluttony. “Sin no more. You are a saint, small s, waiting for you to go up to heaven.”

As we visit these centuries-old churches, some took ten years to build with donkeys transporting materials and gold donated by the gold mine owner, while others took 50 years.

I realized the convergence of the portrait of the 5-month pregnant Blessed Virgin Mary, painted by Miguel Cabrera, at Santa Frisca Church, shared by our travel guide with a pregnant Virgin Mary in Leon, Spain, taken by my husband in the Camino. How these images converged with the reality that our firstborn is pregnant with her second child. What a gift of too many joyful realizations!

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