Reflection of the Pilgriim: And so they asked him, why did you go? He replied, “Not so much because I was seeking God, but because He was seeking me.” Every now and then, regardless of our life situation, and we all bear a cross, it is good to go on the journey. A new horizon, a new adventure can often show us something we were missing, something there we did not see before. This pilgrim went to the birthplace of St. Ignatius of Loyola (they actually spell it Loiola at the actual place) and learned many valuable lessons along the way. The journey never ends until we meet the Lord in a better place, but the physical act of pilgrimage is important and the trials along the way add to the journey and the value. This humble Minnesota pilgrim encourages all people to reflect upon their lives and to take time when possible to visit the holy places of the world…the saints who have gone before us will help us on our journey. Remember…we are not alone! The pilgrim believes more than ever….Seek and Y shall Find…Knock and the Door will be opened! Go forth and Be Not Afraid.

Reflections of Pence: It is going to be hard to take the spiritual high of the pilgrimage destination back to the states and back to my life. It was a very profound moment…yet, the very next days the trials of moving on and the world full of sin and sinners and my own many failings caught up to me. Always the two presences in the world I have seen…the good and the bad…the hand of El Senor…the Lord and the hand of El Diablo…The Devil….always the choice in a man of free will to go down one path or the other. The pilgrimage does not end here….it continues until the day we know God in another place, another world free of sin and weakness. The piglrimage now moves on to Portugal and hopefully sooner than later back to the states. Very rewarding and inspiring trip, but also very tiring. Keep me in your prayers all who read this…..The Minnesota Pilgrim….

Tales of The Pilgrim:   The Pilgrim couldn´t help but smile!  Oh, the adventures he had….and the journey he had made.    Struggles?  Yes, but it was all worth it.  And somehow he was there….at a place he believed the Lord wanted him to be.

Alone, in the Sanctuary of Loyola, where Ignatius Loyola recovered from battle wounds and converted to God, the Minnesota Pilgrim stood.   It was a beautiful fall day in the hill country of northern Spain…deep in the heart of Basque country where Ignatius grew up.   He awoke early and headed to make the bus ride through the mountains…as he approached the station…he saw the bus leaving….he ran after it for two blocks…the bus driver shook her head….the determined pilgrim pounded on the door…he didn´t make it this far to miss the bus!  She relented and let him in.   Through the beautiful mountains the bus went, until arriving at the sanctuary.  The pilgrim was tired….22 days on the road seemed like a year.  His chest ached from the pneumonia, his pocket light without a wallett, his stomach upset from bad food…yet his spirits were high.  He had always wanted to be here….what a site!

After touring the Basilica,  he went to see the house where Ignatius had lived and been converted.  Being Monday, it was closed.  The pilgrim lowered his head…yet a stranger came by and after a brief conversation suggested the pilgrim contact the Jesuit community adjacent to the house.  The pilgrim did so…and 10 minutes later was alone touring the incredible exhibits on Ignatius, the Jesuits and the Church.   When he came to the area where he could look through the glass at the place where Ignatius was converted he felt a deep sense of grace to be here all alone at this holy site.  Hundreds of schools and many prominent universities were the result of this Basque man from this small village who put down the sword to pick up the cross.   Great things had come from here.   After a few minutes, the pilgrim heard a noise…it was a Jesuit Brother who came to look in on the NorteAmericano.   After conversing in Spanish a few moments…the brother smiled…he had a gift for the American pilgrim.  They went into the Sanctuary, the brother removed the security chain and let the pilgrim in….all alone, there at the exact spot where Ignatius turned to Christ.   The pilgrim was very humbled…so humbled he almost forgot about his camera…until the good brother said he should get a picture since few guests get to see what he did.   After the brother left, the pilgrim stayed on….feeling deeply the presence of the Good Lord who leads us all on a unique path.    Blessed and humble the pilgrim left the chapel.     The store associated with the site was closed…but the receptionist at the Jesuit community gave him some postcards…a small reminder of a day he would always remember.

Reflections of Pence:  The sanctuary of Loyola, after 22 days of travel and many trials, was incredible.   A beautiful fall day greeted the searching soul….and the inside tour I recieved….alone in this Holy place when the pilgrimage site was closed for the day was absolutely amazing.   I can´t even put into words the deep spiritual presence I felt alone with Ignatius….but I will attempt to in the coming days.  I have three more posts I will make here and then this website is over…except for the photo album which is coming soon!  I wanted 8 to 10 essays on religion and 8 to 10 blogposts on the journey…it is going to happen!  Seek and ye shall find….knock and the door will be opened!  Believe in the Lord….he is there and has a unique journey for each of us….today…mine came to a very special place.   As the companions of Ignatius would say….Ad Maiorem Dei Gloriam….For the Greater Glory of God!

Tales of the Pilgrim: The pilgrim coughed. The dark green junk, mixed with the blood from the force of the cough was a clear warning sign: he needed rest, and he needed antibiotics. Eight days earlier the pain was in his ears, then moved to his nose, his throat and was now lodged deep in his chest. He had made it to Pamplona, but here he would rest until he could breathe again. Hearing much about the marvels of European medicine, he decided to give the socialist system a try. He went to a clinic and the line was out the door. The hospital staff told him it would be five hours to see a doctor. Remembering the pretty lady he saw working at the pharmacy, he decided to try other means. He started the conversation with “Hola muy bonita…hello there beautiful…” She thought he should go to the hospital, but when she saw the dark green crap and heard his cough, she returned with a box of antibiotics. Only 10 Euro…not bad. As the pilgrim prepared to leave, she smiled and asked, Como te llamas? In Spanish this translates as how are you called….The pilgrim replied, seeing the signs for the famous bullring of Pamplona, Me llamo El Toro Del Norte…I am called the Bull of the North….the lady replied, this time in English…More like the bullshit of the North. She only knew him ten minutes….yet how well she had him down.

The pilgrim found a cheap room, asked for an extra set of sheets and towels and told the lady at the front desk not to send anyone to clean the next morning…he wanted to sleep. After 8 days of getting his butt kicked, he was going to fight back. He took a hot shower, drank a gallon of water and took a number of decongestants and the antibiotics. He awoke six hours later burning with fever. Good. His body was fighting back. More water, more antibiotics, more sleep. Eight hours later he awoke, still burning. He changed the sheets, took another shower and took more antibiotics. Sent from Hell itself, this bug had little mercy. Yet, he wasn´t giving in. Twelve hours later he awoke from some of the most intense dreams he had ever had. The cough remained, but the dark green color was gone. Sick in a foreign land is no fun, yet when you travel hundreds of miles, come into contact with countless people and don´t eat or sleep well…it is to be expected. The pilgrim had made great progress, yet he had the strange feeling that something or someone was attempting hard to block his journey. He smiled, if he were to die like this…so be it…a man on a mission. Yet, eight more hours of sleep and he would be ready to move on. He was heading to the northern coast of Spain…he wanted to make his target soon. The plans and timing of the journey had changed…the intensity and destination had not.

Reflections of Pence: I would like to give a personal shout out here to one Robert Swope. I knew Mr. Swope at Georgetown where he served the school well as a writer for both the Georgetown Hoya and the Georgetown Academy. After graduation, he served his country with honor as an officer in the United States Army. He know serves the people of Iraq where he is helping rebuild their country. This week, he served the Church and rescued my mission with an emergency wire. My forty bucks and gambling win ran out long ago, but it was the thieves of Barcelona getting my train pass that stopped my journey. Mr. Swope is launching a new website and told me he would send me some cash…yet, it wasn´t free…I will owe him many hours of editing and consulting services on the site. I appreciate his help more than this blog post can express.

The two hands, always at work…the hand that helps the journey and the good man…the hand that harms the journey and tempts the soul. El Senor y El Diablo….The Lord and The Devil….both are real.

A cold Spanish wind blew down a lonely street in old Madrid. It was early evening. The pilgrim moved on. By forces outside his control, he had made it to Madrid to pick up an emergency card. The thieves did not get his passport and people would help him…the journey was not done yet. The small bar looked inviting. He went inside and before long locked eyes with a Romanian beauty who made the blood rise like her countryman the Count Dracula himself. She was young and beautiful and in the big city to pursue her modeling career. He knew what would happen…men would care more for her looks than her thoughts, offer her money for things other than her latest opinions on fashion. One good thing about this pilgrim…he never had to worry about women falling for him because of his money. Men fall in love with their eyes, women with their ears. He didn´t have money, but he had plenty of words.

Hours later she lay her sweet head on his powerful American chest. Que es esto? What is this she asked as she touched his St. Christopher Medal. Es San Cristobal…patron de viajeros. It is St. Christopher he told her who protects travelers. Cree in Dios? You believe in God she asked. Claro….cuando miro el reloj….necesito acceptar Senor que hace el reloj. When I see the watch I need to acknowledge the Maker of the Watch. The pilgrim talked of God and philosophy, she was concerned with more earthly matters. Even in his slimmed down form she told him he was twice the man as most Europeans….a reference to his heart no doubt. The night went on. Was she sent by the Lord? He didn´t think so…but the Devil never felt so warm and smelled so sweet. Por que no quedas conmigo aqui en Madrid? Why don´t you stay with me here in Madrid she asked…The pilgrim smiled. The thieves of Barcelona would not stop him…neither would the beauties of Madrid.

She fell asleep. The pilgrim never did. He felt the head cold he had for 8 days coming on strong…now moving into his chest. The north of Spain awaited…and he wanted to move before the pneumonia set in. He gently kissed her lovely cheek, picked up his one bag and headed outside of the small apartment.

A cold Spanish wind blew down a lonely street in old Madrid. It was early morning. The pilgrim moved on.

Tales of the Pilgrim: The alley was dark and the pilgrim was tired. He rested until three youths came his way. They demanded his bag. He refused. It was his second day in Spain and he was exhausted. He told the youths, ¨”Tu puedes tener mi monedas…pero no tiene me libro de viajes” You can have my coins but you cannot have my travel book. When they reached for his bag the pilgrim turned not the other cheek…with all the strength of a former captain of the Mankato East Debate Team he took on all three. It was a fair fight…three Europeans against one Minnesotan. The pilgrim prevailed.

Later, he went out to see Barcelona. The main statue near the port of Cristobal Colon had been taken over by Greenpeace….the police, a bunch of wimps, did nothing. The pilgrim had a few words for them. Later, wanting to see the nightlife of this “jewel of the Meditteranean” he headed out. A man approached him and offered him a ticket to a show. The pilgrim refused. The man got more aggressive and pushed up against the pilgrim..the pilgrim pushed him away. The man left. A few feet later the pilgrim paused…his wallet, his little bit of money and his emergency credit card and driver´s license were gone. His train passes were also gone. The pilgrim had been robbed. Three hours in the police station yielded nothing. It was a dark night.

Reflections of Pence: Barcelona was beautiful…and it broke the pilgrim. Now, without any emergency credit, train pass or money, the pilgrim must find a way out of Barcelona. The destination of the journey remains the same, the the timing has changed. Forty days and forty nights seems impossible now. St. Ignatius, pray for your pilgrim.

The world is cruel….and Barcelona was not kind to the pilgrim. He moves on tonight.

Tales of the Pilgrim: The pilgrim bowed his head. He was humbled by the sights before him. There he stood outside the beautiful Notre Dame De La Garde atop the southern French city of Marseille overlooking the mountains, the Meditteraen Sea and the Chateua D’If in the distance. It was one of the most amazing settings for a church in the world. The French certainly know how to build beautiful public spaces. He was tired and the journey ahead was long…it was not easy fighting off lusty French women and angry North Africans who wanted the proud American to bash his country…yet, today, from high atop the blue sea…it was all worth it.

Reflections of Pence: In Paris at the center of the city is the Cathedral of Notre Dame. In Nice along a main avenue is the Cathedral of Notre Dame…and in Marseille, high above the city, is the breathtaking Notre Dame De La Garde…Our Lady of the Guard…watching over the City from the mountains to the Sea. France! Your Catholic roots are very deep…the Mother blesses your cities yet! Bless the pilgrim as he leaves a country known for wine and cheese and progressive European culture and thoughts…but blessed with a Catholic tradition still alive in her many beautiful churches. Look not only to the future France..cherish your past and let your public places of worship guide you.

Tales of the Pilgrim: Paris is known to be rude to Americans…it is damn out cruel to broke ones! Yet the greatest part of the city is totally free….the beauty of the architecture.

The pilgrim walked for 6 hrs straight…from 12 am to 6 am admiring the stately beauty of the French architecture and incredible landscaping along the Seine. At 3am in the morning the Eiffel Tower had a majestic beauty to the tired eye and lifted the searching soul.

Exhausted without a connection he knew he had to leave Paris. He secured a ticket south and ended up at night in Monaco. He had been down many a road…yet the ride from Paris to Monaco with the beauty of the French countryside in fall was one of the finest.

Without resources the pilgrim could not play the greatest roulette salons in the world at the posh Monte Carlo…yet he could offer some advice to Russian billionaire gamblers full of oil money and hope for a small consulting fee when number 32 red hit as he had predicted. As the pilgrim took the last train to the enchanting city of Nice on the southern French coast he could not help but smile…from the gutters of Paris to the private salons of Monte Carlo….the journey was on!

Reflections of Pence: Oh, my late mother once told me; the adventures my Caino has! Seek and ye shall find; knock and the door will be opened!

Pass the website along…the journey is getting interesting….

Tales of the Pilgrim: The pilgrim was very tired.

The custom agent was not going to let him into Europe because he had not signed his passport. While running to catch his connecting flight his leg was hit by a speeding cart in Amsterdam. The plane was delayed to Paris. His possible connection in France fell through. He spent the night wondering the back alleys of Paris before resting outside the Cathedral of Notre Dame and praying for the Lord to help his good servant. Afternoon on the second day found him under an old building resting his head. He felt something wet on his face….rain….no…pigeon crap. Welcome to Paris pilgrim!

Reflections of Pence: I am on a great quest to the birthplace of St. Ignatius Loyola. I am attempting my journey as a true pilgrim….going where the spirit leads me with little to no money…but many adventures and tales. Every few days I will be posting my latest adventures and reflections. I hope you will enjoy them, pass them along and pray for me. God will test all on a great journey but He does not abandon his people so have faith in your own journey! Seek and ye shall find: my one Euro of computer time is up…so stay tuned as the Minnesota Pilgrim has left Paris and is heading to the south of France……

Ok, after many obstacles and trials I am able to make it to an internet connection in France to post the first blog of the already fascinating and frustrating pilgrimage. I will write it as follows: Tales of The Pilgrim [TTP] and then Relections of Pence [ROP]. Excuse the errors…..these foriegn keyboards are difficult: Stay tuned and pass the website along….it will not be boring!