Sacred Moments

I am blessed to have a friend as dear as Sister Mary Catherine.

While I have known her for decades, our friendship has deepened in ways I have come to treasure over the last few years. Her mission field is the Minkler Cash Store, where she loves and cares for everyone who walks through her door. Her genuineness is a rarity these days, and it is a beautiful thing to behold. She is also my neighbor, which is an added bonus for me.

Some time ago, we made a pact.

Wherever we are, if we see each other, we will stop and embrace. No matter what we are doing or where we are headed, we will stop. It is our little reminder that the moment we are in matters just as much as the place we are going.

A few days before my travels, I ran into Mary Catherine early in the morning. This is our usual time to cross paths. I was finishing my walk, and she was headed to Mass.

We stopped, as always, to greet each other.

As we stood there hugging and catching up, a school bus pulled alongside us and stopped. We knew we’d be a while, so we waved the driver on, assuming he would go around us.

He did not.

We continued our hug and conversation, and every so often we would wave him on once again.

Each time, he declined.

Finally, our greeting ended. Mary Catherine went on her way, and I continued my walk. As the bus finally passed me, I apologized to the driver for keeping him waiting.

Then he explained why he hadn’t gone around us.

At first, he said he hadn’t passed because he didn’t want to scratch the top of his bus. But as he sat there waiting and watching us, he realized how deeply we cared for one another. In that moment, he said, he recognized this was one of those times that didn’t need to be rushed. It was a sacred moment.

I have thought about that encounter ever since.

My sabbaticals always come after a busy season, a season that seems to grow harder as the years go by. The busyness becomes overwhelming, and I push through my obligations, counting the days until I have finished them.

During these seasons, I can barely breathe. I neglect caring for myself and those around me. I want to get through it, and in doing so, I miss so much of what is happening around me.

Perhaps that is why this encounter has stayed with me. It reminded me of how easily we can become so focused on where we are going that we fail to appreciate where we are.

It also made me think about my upcoming travels and what my walkabouts bring me.

The greatest gift of travel is not simply getting somewhere new. For me, it is learning to stop, notice what matters along the way, and allow the journey to reshape me. It reminds me of what I already know but have pushed to the wayside.

To notice.

To embrace the person in front of me.

To allow an unexpected moment to become part of my journey.

As Tom and I prepare to walk 300 miles across France, I suspect this is one lesson I will be reminded of. We have a destination. We have a trail. We have miles to cover.

But the destination is not the point.

It is the moments along the way that will truly make this sacred journey for me.