A reflection from pilgrim Sharon Carpenter
I was asked to share a reflection .of my experiences thus far of this amazing journey.
I was initially quick to respond “yes—tthen my dark side rose to cast a shadow over me and doubt replaced my joy.
“Why?” I asked myself.
I did not hear an answer but I did feel an urge to read my journal from yesterday.
I shall preface this by saying, I am not a theologian or a scripture scholar. I often journal in a stream of consciousness—which may be a tad different from what one is used to. But if I am to offer a true personal reflection, this is mine.
So I sit here in the chapel where St. Ignatius had his vision.
I am struck by the desire of so many of us to make this visit.
Is it hope? is it wishful thinking? is it a call? I am not sure.
I am struck also by the need, the desire—despite the city noise that trap you in this real world—to imagine what was it like for Ignatius.
It is difficult with the sounds from the street—the laughter of children, the honking horns, the screeching tires.
But I must try, for God is everywhere, and He is here.
I think I shall sit outside, against this simple Roman pine. Perhaps Ignatius did the same.
His was a simpler time. But was it?
He heard God’s call. He faced such adversity and yet he followed, he persevered.
God has called, me too, and I must try to listen.
I must quiet my mind and open my heart and soul.
I shall breathe in the noise, breathe in the world that has been created over this sacred site.
For that is what we, God’s children, have created—right?
We must find the time to find Him in the faces of all those who walk over this land each day.
To see God in each face that walks by
To feel God in the wind that blows my hair and the sunshine that I feel on my face.
To hear God in the laughter and in the engines that roar.
To praise God with my urban prayers.
What is an urban prayer?
Why did I write that?
Perhaps that was a whisper from God.