Gratitude

I got an early start this morning from Labacolla, which is something like 10 Km from Santiago.  I was actually rather foolishly concerned about being able to acquire the necessary two stamps before entering Santiago, but of course this was not a problem.

It was a drizzly rainy morning - just enough for me to put on the loathesome poncho for a while, but pretty soon I removed and just dealt with the light rain.  The pack however remained covered.

It wasn't long before I started reaching the outer suburbs of Santiago, so it was mostly urban hiking - which I don't particularly enjoy.

I was wondering what I would feel when I reached the Cathedral - euphoric?  disappointed?  would it be anti-climactic?

I wanted to be sure to make the pilgrim's mass at noon so I checked in at my hotel so I could ditch the backpack.  By the time I got to the Cathedral the seats were already taken.  I took a "seat" at the base of a stone column on the gospel side of the altar in the transept.  This turned out to be a great vantage point for the giant botafumeiro thurible.

The mass itself was in Spanish, but I was glad that they used the familiar Latin Jubilate Deo setting for the Sanctus and Agnus Dei.  And I was really surprised when the Pater Noster was recited (not sung!) In Latin.

But then during the communion rite we were treated to "I am the bread of life" en español.

It is my custom after receiving the Eucharist to immediately begin a series of thankful prayers to Jesus.  It seems only appropriate since the word "Eucharist" is derived from Greek "thanksgiving".

As I was going through this litany, it occurred to me that I now knew what I felt upon reaching Santiago:  Gratitude

Gratitude to the Lord, who answered my daily prayers to deliver me safely each day to where I needed to be.

Gratitude to my "crewe" of Saints who kept me company and encouraged me along the way.

Gratitude to my friends and family back home whom I knew were praying for me during my journey.

After mass, as I went through the pilgrim ritual of "hugging the apostle" on the high altar and praying at the saint's sarcophagus, thanksgiving was in the forefront of my thoughts.

Then I went into the adoration chapel, in which a friendly Spanish woman gave me a devotion page in Spanish to pray before the exposed host in the monstrance.  I was moved by her welcoming kindness so I went through the program and found it strangely efficacious.  She followed me out afterwards and we had a broken chat in Spanish.

Later in the afternoon I went to confession with a soft-spoken young Spanish priest who first apologized for his English and then delivered some of the most comforting and soothing words I've ever heard in the confessional.

After that I returned for another embrace with the apostle and returned to the tomb one last time before leaving the Cathedral.

Dear Friends thank you once again for your prayers and support.

And to my loving and supporting wife Kathleen who endured hardship on the home front so I could make this journey and was always positive about my pilgrimage.

I don't know if I ever will have this opportunity again; I hope so.  But whatever may come I know I will always be grateful for the grace given me on the way.