The pilgrimage to WYD has always been about the overnight vigil and early morning Sunday Mass with the Pope. The journey to get to this point is sacred, the places seen, the experiences felt, the stories created along the way are an integral lifeline to the ultimate pulse of what has called us to the final destination – being with Holy Father, among our brothers and sisters in Christ from all over the world and receive HIM as ONE.
In my past experiences and with this current pilgrimage I can not discount the truth that God had His hand on us all no matter what the circumstances presented themselves to be for each individual. He gave each one of us a ‘taste’ of Him along the journey so that we would know deep within our hearts that He was with us every step of the way. As I’ve mentioned in recollections of days past, this is my personal experience of what took place that day and evening of the vigil. Others in my group might have another point of view and upon speaking to other pilgrims who might have sat in a different section, or came in later in the day, or were able to sit close to the stage, well, their persceptions of the days and evening events were different than those of us who sat in section D1 (aka: Death1).
Four hours of sleep quickly turned into only 2.5 hours once my husband and then each son called me seperately throughout the night, forgetting that we were in different time zones and even though it was only 9pm for them it was 4am for me. I’m not one that can quickly slip back into sleep either so by the time the alarm sounded at 6:30am I was begging for God to stop time and allow me just a few more hours before I began the journey for the day. Realizing this wasn’t going to be a miracle for the day I got up, dressed and met the three other pilgrims who were venturing early with me that morning. We were splitting our group up because we had a seminarian in our group who had the honor to have a personal Mass with the other seminarians and Pope Benedict XVI. I had run into a friend of mine at my talk and she invited me and a few other friends to join in on their Mass at the hotel and then walk with them to the vigil site because we were all assigned to the same section D1. The rest of my group was going to attend Mass at 9am and then wait for Marco, the seminarian to return before leaving as a group on the trek to D1. The four of us were prepared to stake out a section in D1 and hold the spot assuming it would be crowded.
Ha! If only we knew!!! 😉
I was very excited to attend this Mass at the hotel because my dear friend, Fr. Dave Pivonka a Franciscan priest from Steubenville was the one celebrating it and we were going to be venturing with his group. Once there I realized I knew quite a few people that were in their large group. Fr. Victor from our Galveston-Houston Archdiocese was there, John Beaulieu, whom I work with for the Steubenville conferences was there, as well as a few of the other speakers, etc. It was like a reunion! By the time we celebrated Mass and then began the trek it was 9:30am. We were only a 1/2 a mile into the walk when we were told to move aside on the sidewalk because the Pope was coming. We couldn’t believe our luck! After all these days of being squished and pushed into walls and baracades in order to see the Pope and now all we had to do was just stand there on the street and he would drive by literally 2 feet in front of us?
Pope Benedict XVI was headed to the seminarian Mass. We thought for sure this was a great sign that the day was filled with many more surprise blessings. Once he passed us we continued our journey. At first we thought it was only a 4-5 mile walk because of what the map indicated. I had a tarp, float, sleeping bag, 3 water bottles and some snacks and such in my back pack. We were all carrying at least an extra 15-25 pounds on our backs. By mile five, with no water stations to fill up the now empty water bottles and no barracades to block off the streets for all of us to walk (so cars would nearly miss groups of people, honk to get us to move faster, etc) we were beginning to clue into the fact something wasn’t measuring up. The heaviness I felt in my chest earlier in the morning was still there and as we walked, and walked, and walked it got heavier and heavier.
Usually at the other WYD’s there would be masses of pilgrims covering the barracaded streets, singing, chanting, waving their country flags. The joy and anticipation would be intoxicating and disguise the fact that your feet were taking you miles and miles. It would be one big party, a joyous family gathering and no one would complain. You didn’t care because you were too excited.
There was none of that when we walked. At least not on our path…if it happened later in the day I was not told. It was too dangerous to get in the streets so people were more concerned about staying up with their group because we had to walk two by two on the sidewalks, or through the park. There was no real path marked either…so many from the large group we were traveling with got lost and disconnected from the group. By mile 9 the sun was ferocious and beating down on our heads. I didn’t stop out of fear I wouldn’t get going again. Most of us were out of water and I could hear a few from my group reciting the Chaplet of Devine Mercy “For the sake of His sorrowful passion, have mercy on us and on the whole world.” Offering it up. I didn’t think to complain at this point because I knew still what was to come. We could set up our area, sit down, take a nap if desired. We would be okay.
Finally we began to see the abandoned airport field where the vigil was taking place. By the time we arrived we estimated we walked close to 12-13 miles. It was now 11:45am. We had to go through security before entering. They scanned our bags and we had to walk through metal detectors. That is one thing I can say about Spain, they had plenty of police always around. I’m not sure if it was for the thousands of protestors that were on the streets every day protesting the Pope’s presence or if it is customary…but it did make us feel safe.
Once inside we picked up the picnic bags they had for each of us and then headed across the field to find D1. At a later date I’ll be able to post a picture that will show you how MASSIVE this place was and point out exactly where we were positioned. At this point all I can say is we had to walk roughly 2-3 more miles to get to our section. We felt pretty lucky once we got there because we were closest to the bathrooms and a chapel tent was directly in front of us. The stage where the Pope was to celebrate adoration and Mass was to our right about almost a mile away. There were so many people when we arrived! Thankfully the section wasn’t quite full so we were able to map out a pretty decent section to try and save for our group.
I laid out my tarp and we set our stuff strategically around us to make room for the 26 others that were due in a few hours. It was hot, dry, and we were thirsty so we looked through the picnic bags they gave us. Three bottles of water were in each which was like a jackpot! We all made sure we drank to keep dehydrated. I wasn’t sitting down more than 15 minutes when a group from another country ( I won’t say where all these groups were from only because this was not a pleasant exchange) began to move our stuff around and set up shop. I was quick on my feet and had to say ‘No, no! We have others coming.’ This statement only gave me dirty looks from the group and in broken English ‘No saving!’.
Granted, it was HOT…did I mention this? Not long after this first heated exchange they came across the loud speaker to advise us to ‘Drink water, it is 45 celsius’ THAT IS OVER 100 DEGREES FAREHNHEIT. More like 110! I took all this into account when people couldn’t be more understanding. Thankfully they left but it wasn’t two minutes later another group came in as well and again I had to try my best to explain. It was only 12:30 and I knew our group wasn’t even starting their walk till around 1pm! I remained standing from that point on, pacing the area in which I was trying to save with my group. The three water bottles were gone because I could not get enough water. The dirt and sand beneath us was being kicked up all over the place and we were covered in sweat, dirt, and there was not one cloud in site. Finally four more people from our group showed up and we were thrilled! I thought they had all arrived early but these four chose to leave early once Mass was over instead of waiting. It was nicer to have more of the group there to help keep the area so we would all have a place to stay.
As soon as they go there and settled we sent two of our people in search of filling the water bottles. Nearly an hour later they came back empty handed. NO WATER WAS AVAILABLE. By now the areas were getting filled with more and more people. Section D1 was full and so group upon group who were originally assigned to D1 were realizing they had no place to stay which is why they ALL wanted our little section because it looked empty. I’m certain many choice words were said to me and my group in their native language (at least that is what their faces looked like they were saying) but if I was to give up the space for our group then we would be out of a place to set up as well. The only open spots by this time (1:30pm) were the very back of the airfield, literally miles away from our current spot.
The sun continues to beat down on us and I can feel the back of my knees sizzling. Thank God I thought to bring sunscreen or else I’d have 3rd degree burns! One of the young men in my group went to the tent where they were SELLING water bottles and brought back 10 water bottles that he paid 10 euro for (that’s roughly $16 for water that should have been provided). By now we are seeing people slumped over and faint being carried from the field to the chapel. Everyone is out of water and unless you were one of the few that thought to bring money with you to an empty field then you didn’t get any water! Then out of nowhere you’d hear that water would be availabe through one pipe and hoards of people would grab water bottles from everyone and stand in line for HOURS to try and fill them up.
By 4:30pm our group finally arrived and we had just enough room to squeeze everyone into a spot that they could at least sit down and possibly stretch out their legs. By now I had sent a few on a mission to by these yellow umbrellas we were seeing behind us but after they were gone for 2 hours they came back telling us that those umbrellas were specific to that group. We had no shelter from this heat and the sun in Spain does not go down till 9pm! The minute the rest of our group arrived we had three go straight to the infirmiry because they were already dehydrated and suffering headaches and dizziness. By this point there were fire trucks spraying the crowds just to get them cooled off.
And did I mention the crickets? Little miniature crickets that were the same color as the golden hay. They would jump and land on you, often 10 at a time.
By 6pm the heat was so intensive and with no clouds in sight, still no water to be had and if you happened to find a sip of water in a bottle it was scorching hot! (One priest said, “I didn’t think to bring my tea bags with me!) lol 🙂 We were way beyond caring about the sweat, the sunburn, the crickets, the dust in our eyes and throat, at this point we just wanted a drink of water. I went to check on one pilgrim who was in the infirmary still and was able to catch a break and sit next to her and talk to the volunteer that was tending after her needs. Before I could introduce myself the pilgrim addressed the volunteer and said, “Tell Shannon what you heard.” This is when I found out that it wasn’t the fault of WYD for us not having water…the water was intentionally turned off by the authorities. It had to do with the on-going protests, etc and I suppose a point was trying to be made. At one point, the announcer on the loud speaker said, “They are bringing in 2500 bottles of water.” What??!! They announced to 2 million thirsty pilgrims that they were bringing in 2500 bottles of water? The weight on my chest rose into searing anger that went up the back of my neck, engulfed my cheeks in heat and brought tears to my eyes.
“I’m so angry,” I said. The volunteer looked at me and said, “Oh no, it is politics not WYD.” She had me all wrong. I knew it wasn’t anything to do with WYD or the Pope or anything in regards to our church or faith…it was the enemy. I know the feeling well and I was angry that he was clever enough to thwart this Godly experience in such a way that put fear and passivity into the hearts of the pilgrims. I told her all of this and with wide eyes she looked at me and whispered, “I know exactly what you mean. I’ve been wanting to say it but I thought people would think I was nuts.” We talked about this a little more and then she confided in some things she’d been feeling and experiencing. I offered to pray over her and so there, in the infirmary, I prayed over this prayer warrior.
The pilgrim was feeling better enough to offer her spot to a sicker person so we said our goodbyes and began to head back to our site. They hadn’t gotten anything to eat and I knew they would have water in their picnic bags so I offered to take their tickets and walk to the place to pick up their bags. They handed me 3 tickets, one for a pilgrim that had already headed home. I know at this point I should have gone back to the site with them to find someone to join me but it was now 7:30pm and the time it would take to get to the site and then through the crowds and onto the runway that led to the picnic station would take hours. The Pope was already processing in and even though I was missing out on this I knew they needed the water and food. So I began to walk.
By the time I made it across and up four or five sections it was beginning to get dark. I had no idea what time it was at this point because I left my phone and watch at the site. I had nothing on me except those tickets for picnic bags. Don’t think that the stupidity of this didn’t cross my mind. I’m amongst 2 million people and by myself walking now in the dark. At least I know my East/West/North/South. 🙂
Once I finally found the station for the picnic bags, holding two on one shoulder and the third on the other like a pack mule, I started back down the runway deciding this time to take it all the way down and then head north for where D1 was so to avoid the puddles of groups that were gathering in the walk ways. Numb to the pain, walking on automatic I knew I had miles to go so I began to sing the Chaplet of Divine Mercy out loud. I knew no one could hear me, the crowds were too loud, which was unfortunate because the Pope was on stage and I’m certain he probably had something worthwhile that they should all hear. I knew I wouldn’t understand it because it was in SpanishDi
I took maybe 20 steps when suddenly I saw a fabulous lightening storm ahead of me. At least 5 shoots of lightening cut through the black canvas of night, appearing to hit down directly on the people in the field. I could hear collective ‘Ohs’, and ‘Ahs’, but I kept on with the chaplet. Another few feet and there was more lightening and now a few drops of rain. The still air was suddenly whipped around by a wind that came from my left, the south. I kept heading west eyes ahead, enjoying the light show, singing and keeping my thoughts on Christ, interiorly thanking Him for the wind and drops of rain. The Pope could be heard in the background over the speakers and I interrupted the chaplet with the thought, “Do they even care what he has to say? What are they here for? To party it up?” I mean I understood the joyous celebration because of the rain, God KNEW we needed it to wash off all of the dust and sweat and to COOL OFF…but still from my vantage point it didn’t seem too many people were listening. Or maybe they couldn’t hear like me? We get distracted when we can’t understand.
About a mile into the walk back the wind picked up speed and began whip around debris, empty water bottles, dust, hay, paper, plastic bags, etc and push against my left side causing me to strain against it to keep going straight and not into the crowds. Another flash of brilliant lightening and then it came, torrential rain. Pelting against my left check stinging like dozens of ruthless bees. There was so much wind and pelting rain I was no longer able to see. I had to hold up a hand to my eyes to try and see where I was going and not run into anyone. I was pushing against the wind to walk and before I knew it the tears began to flow. I was already finished with the chaplet but now I just prayed to God, “Please, please let the rain stop so I can see where I’m going.” Already I knew this rain was from God and maybe even a sign to some…because I know for me He was saying, “I’ll give you respite from your troubles but do not ignore Me.”
Finally I made it to our site and just as I set the bags down the Benediction of the Blessed Sacrament began. It was a good thing because I could not even speak. There was a conflicting emotion within me that left me befuddled. I got on my knees eager to just ‘be’ with God and realized the rain had stopped! I praised God and thanked Him. In the silence we were given I offered the day up to God and asked Him what I should do. I was feeling the weight on my chest and a certainty that I needed to leave. I asked Him to take this from me if I was to stay. But instead I felt in my heart that I needed to leave. Adoration was too short, not just for me but I’ve heard many pilgrims voice this fact. It was only about 15 minutes of silent adoration and then the Pope did the Divine Blessing. As soon as adoration was over the rain began again. Even though I was already soaked through to my socks and shoes I put on my poncho and sat there in silence. It was now 11pm and I knew I would have the entire night of no sleeping and then trying to get out BEHIND all of those millions of pilgrims to the exit (because we were at the furthest end away).
Earlier that day when I spoke with Fr. Dave about what I was feeling, the heaviness on my chest and how I felt as if I needed to leave, he said to me that it is an individual decision on whether or not you feel you have offered enough up to our Lord. Only He and you can decided when you are ‘done’. I thought about that conversation as I sat there in round 2 of the rain and suddenly it was as if God said into my ear, “You are done.” I stood up and spoke out loud for the first time since I made it back from getting the picnic bags. “I”m done!” I walked over to Fr. Dave who was finding shelter underneath his blow up float and said, “I’m done!” He gave me a high five and said he’d be in touch later. I went to Fr. T.J. and said the same to him and he said, “I’d be done too if I didn’t have such a great seat for Mass tomorrow! I don’t blame you. Besides, they’ve already told us no one is going to receive the Eucharist.” When he said that I was not only DONE but any guilt I might have still been harboring disappeared.
Two other pilgrims stood up and declared they were going with me and in all a handful of our group stayed to tough it out through the night. One thing that I love about God that I often blog and speak about is the fact He will show up in any situation and any decision. As we were walking the 3 miles to the exit one of the young women who decided to come back with me began to talk. For the past two weeks of the journey she avoided me and at this time at this moment she began to confide in me what she was struggling with. I was praising God in my heart and we had a great conversation on the way home.
Sure enough after getting at decent night sleep we all agreed to watch the Mass with Pope together. It was 9:30am and just as it was beginning a large group that had stayed behind walked in the doors. At 7am that morning a message came over the loud speakers that indeed, the only people receiving the Eucharist that morning were the priests. When they heard this they decided to make their way to the exit to avoid the crowds but then they couldn’t hear or see anything so they made their way home. Only a few stayed behind and then they said they couldn’t see anything and the speakers had gone out so they couldn’t see anything either. 🙁
I was devastated for them (which is when I wrote the quick update on this blog). My FAVORITE part of the WYD experience is this vigil and Mass with the Pope and by powers for which I do not even want to acknowledge this pinnacle moment turned into a disaster. I wanted so much for these pilgrims who’ve never experienced WYD and to have Mass with the Pope and be able to have the joyous peace offerings of those around them from dozens of far away countries to be emblazoned in their memories. Instead they are saying things like ‘We survived WYD!’… and “We felt like refugees.’ 🙁 Granted I won’t say the ENTIRE group felt that way… each will choose to make of their experience what they will and I’m certain many had a great spiritual experience as well.
I hope to have more pictures to share with other little stories by the end of the week. Thank you all to those who prayed for us on this pilgrimage. We did have a GREAT TIME and even though this wasn’t the experience I would have ‘requested’ for the group, it was the experience we were meant to have and for each one of us it affected us in the way God needed it to. We are all on our own spiritual journey, unique and intimate.
Blessings
Shannon