The Pilgrim and the Politician

A man begins a pilgrimage to Rome in Canterbury, England, and eventually arrives at the Hospice of Grand St. Bernard. As he walks, he carries 88 years of joy, sorrow, and a rather large backpack on his back.

Traveling from Bern to the Hospice of Grand St. Bernard is another man, who is also on a journey. As he makes his way, he carries the arrival of a new baby and the weight of his country’s future on his back.

Pilgrims walk for different reasons. Our pilgrim walked, but he did not know why. He only knew he was called to walk and was uninterested in “why.” Politicians attend events for a myriad of reasons. Our politician attended an event in late June because he knew he should be there. He didn’t pay much attention to “why.” Both men were answering a call.

Nationality separated them. Language separated them. Normal, everyday differences separated them.

Why did Brian walk? Why did Christophe attend that concert?

Perhaps one of the many reasons Brian walked and Christophe attended that concert could be this blog post and the mere fact that you are reading it.

It’s 2014 and we can be jaded and cynical. Most of us see politicians as untouchable and most of us do not pay any attention to pilgrims. A politician would never waste his time talking to a pilgrim and they certainly would not be at the same event because politicians go to fancy places and pilgrims do not.

Wrong.

There are still places in this world that transcend language, nationality, age, religious beliefs, socio-economic differences. There are still places that bring people together for a common purpose, known or yet unknown. There are still places where two men from completely different walks of life can be brought together to share things – ideas, music, Raclette. There are places where the sting of cynicism is made weak.

We have to treasure these places and nourish them. We must feed them with our time, with our resources, and with our very best intentions. We have to look at these places as true sanctuaries because that is what they are.

They are places where the shoes on your feet do not matter. They are places where the color of your hair, your skin, your coat…none of it matters. They are places where a pilgrim and a politician are both seen as exactly what they are:  God’s children – truly equal and worthy of unconditional love and acceptance.

We must give our best to these places and the people walking into them. Both are deserving of our adoration.

I could say many things about the pilgrim and the politician. They are two of the finest men I have met in a very long time. It is not the point. The point is much simpler than that.

There is a place on the border between Switzerland and Italy where a pilgrim and a politician sat together and shared an important life moment.

That place is the Hospice of Grand St. Bernard.

You should go there and give it your best. If you cannot go there, you can still give it your best.

Donate 5 dollars, 10 Euro, 20 CHF, or 100,000£. What is your best? Give that.

Hospice du Gd-St-Bernard – 1946 Bourg-St-Pierre – Suisse
Union de Banque Suisse – 1920 Martigny
IBAN        CH50 0026 4264 6946 8001 X
BIC          UBSWCHZH80A

If we don’t give these places our best, how can this happen?

The Pilgrim and the Politician
The Pilgrim and the Politician

 

 

Guest blogger: Kelley Ayres, “A Typical Day in the Life of a Mother of Two Boys”

I’m really pleased to offer you a great blog post from my talented sister-in-law, Kelley Ayres. I thoroughly enjoy her descriptions of everyday life experiences, she has a wonderful way with words. This was particularly entertaining. Thanks for sharing it with my readers, Kel Kel. Enjoy!

Bit of back story for non-Dallasites: “Gaylord” in Grapevine is a huge Oprylandesque structure and Kel was taking her little, sick-as-dogs guys to enjoy some post-Christmas fun as a getaway treat.

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Our Gaylord Experience!  So far . . .

So, we head out of our neighborhood and I pull into Preston/Royal for green tea for the road.
Cooper says, “Mom, I forgot my ipad (Leapfrog).”
Wyatt replies, “Well, that doesn’t concern me. Does it concern you, mom?”

We head out to get on LBJ. You got it, totally backed up. The boys don’t understand why the traffic jam does not appear on navigation.
Wyatt, “Why are all these trucks on this road. We’d go a lot faster if they weren’t.”

We’re almost to our turn-off toward Grapevine, when I see two very low airplanes and point them out to the boys.
I say, “Where do you think they came from?”
Cooper, “Half-America!” (You can imagine the enthusiasm)
I reply, “South America?”
“Yes! Half-America!” (More enthusiasm)
(While hibernating in the germ-infested land of hacking, sneezing, and a whole lot of laundry, Wyatt ventured out into the world of “menu” on the car TV. He found some sort of nature landscapes that featured South America. To my complete satisfaction, they were fascinated and I was incredibly thankful for a break from Batman, Angry Birds, Injustice, Clash of Clans and Minecraft.)

So, we turn off onto Gaylord Road and as we approach the monstrosity of what is the Gaylord Hotel, Cooper says, “Mom, it’s bigger than me, Wyatt and YOU!”

We pull through valet, start to unload the back. I tell the boys how big they are and that they can carry their own bags (leaving me, still, with more than I can handle). The lady behind us shows Cooper how to wrap the straps around his neck to make it easier to carry! What?!?!

We walk through the lobby to find a swarm of orange and black OK State fans and I start to have an anxiety attack. They are waiting for their rooms, which are not ready. What craziness are we in for?

We get our room, which is ready, and we walk about 5 miles to get to it. I start to get a little upset when I realize what a good thing it is to be at the end of the hallway on the far end of the whole place. The fans will be trickling in past midnight and not bothering us! Phew!

We get situated and all the boys want to do is bound from bed to bed. We could have done this at home. At this point, I also realize that I forgot shoes, other than the snow boots I wore here.

After purchasing ICE tickets and Snow tickets at $100, we head that direction. I find a store with some cute flats, purchase them and wear them out, only to enter the world of FREEZING cold! At which point, I put my snow boots back on. Wyatt jumps on board for snow-tubing, Cooper follows but freaks out last-minute. I go up with him with a double-tube, sit on the freakin’ wet, cold fabric for this child and he decides he won’t do it. I say, “I’ll get you ice cream after dinner.” Guess what? Yup. The entire staff is cracking up.

We all put on massive blue coats like total champs and head into what must be 15-degree temperature! Wyatt about throws a fit, after being cold anyway and we scurry through in no more than 4-minutes flat! That was money well-spent!

Outside of ICE is a little stand with hot chocolate and Gigi’s cupcakes. I get the boys hot chocolate. Cooper takes a sip and spits it all over me. “I don’t like it!” I ask what on earth in a nice way and Cooper replies, “Sorry, Little Lady.” I clean up the best I can and we head back to the lobby to find seats by the fire in the lobby. Finally, we’re all happy and relaxed and could hang until dinner.

Wyatt is hungry well before dinner time so I go around the corner and grab some pretzels and use the restroom, at which point I realize I have been sporting a beautiful hot chocolate mole on my nose for at least an hour.

We look at four menus and Wyatt will only have pizza, so we go to the Italian restaurant and sit at a wonderful table by the fire. It is still pretty cold and so I ask Wyatt if he wants my sweater. “Yes!” Leaves me with a thin blouse to shiver through.

After being sick for 4 days, I think to myself how hard a glass of wine could hit me . . . so I opt out (I know most of you don’t believe me!)
You also won’t believe that I ordered a filet. I didn’t eat much of it but justified it based on the book I just read about genotypes. Beef is a superfood for mine! Yippee! I’m a hunter! Roar!

So, here we are. So happy to be in pj’s, cuddled in bed with ice cream, Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs and a cup of medicine Wyatt needs but won’t take. Cooper is still bouncing of the walls (with a chocolate ice cream mustache, like maybe he face-planted in a pile of mud)

The truth be told, this has been a blast! These boys crack me up. We have one “go with the flow” and one with very particular thoughts and expectations. It works out pretty well. If Cooper winds down, we will have a good night’s sleep and have some more fun in the morning.

They are arguing over who gets me in their bed. It really boils down to who’s kick hurts less and who’s nighttime behavior is less annoying. I’ll be sleeping with Cooper . . .

Stay tuned . . .