Reaching Out My Hand

I'm reaching out my hand. Help me. - I can't remember if I spoke these words out loud or quietly in my mind, as I was laying in my bed in February, not able to move, not able to go outside for even 5 minutes with my dog. There was nothing wrong with my body, but my spirit was suffering deeply. Exactly a year after my breakup with a man twice my age, I was a 25 year old who spent her days silently in her apartment, my only activities being: caring for my rescue dog and getting some groceries from time to time. I'd eat one meal per day. I developed a serious social media addiction. Anything to escape the pain.

Eventually my thoughts became like dark, thick clouds, the kind that wouldn't allow a single sunray through. I lost my purpose, my deeply rooted dreams of becoming a mother seemed impossible now. Winter was brutal for me. I began having suicide thoughts. I wasn't planning on doing anything to myself but I constantly kept having visions of dying alone in my room, with nobody there to hold me or even mourn my passing. The devil whispered that my end was inevitable. And I believed him.

Until another night of weeping, until THE night where I reached out my hand. It wasn't much, just a last, small attempt at living. But everything was about to change. For good, this time. A few days later as I was scrolling on my phone, I noticed a Facebook event pop up. The Extreme Way of the Cross. What is that? I immediately became curious. Turned out it was a solo night walk, a pilgrimage of at least 30-40 km filled with contemplation and prayer, that takes place every year before Easter. It was supposed to happen next week, on March 8th - women's day. It took me two days to decide that I wanted to go. Yes, I barely moved for months. Yes, I was out of shape. Yes, this was a challenge like no other. But something in me knew I needed this challenge, the kind of challenge that would make me appreciate life and my body again. Did I still have two legs? Yep. And that's all I needed. Although this was a Christian endevour, I didn't see it as such at the time. Lord knows, in a few months my whole perspective was about to shift a 180 degrees.

I prepared a list, I bought the dark chocolate and packed sandwiches and hot tea in a thermos. I wore warm layers, cause this was about to be a long and freezing night. I showed up at the cathedral in the city center at 8PM. I waited for mass to finish to start walking the route I had chosen for myself beforehand. And off I went. I wasn't completely alone, there were always people before me and behind me, moving along that very same path in complete silence. I felt strong in my legs, having decided already that I will finish this, no matter what. At each of the 14 stations of the cross, I'd stop, read from the official pamphlet and say a short prayer. If I'm doing this, why not devout myself fully? Just for the night, of course.

The first half of the night was quite easy. Whenever my feet would start hurting, I'd say The Lord's Prayer under my nose and that seemed to help. Around station 9, I started conversing with a group of three strangers. Together, we walked a difficult part of the path that was covered in water, because the river flooded the area unexpectedly. It was just us four now, with our headlamps on, making our way through the terrain, when many other people turned away and chose another route. I had faith, however, that we could make it and find our way around the pools of water. And we did, we just had to make our way to the other side of a stream by going over a fallen log of a tree. 

At some point of the journey, around 6 AM, the sun started rising, casting a beautiful light over the forest we were now in as mist covered the valley of the river. Never have I felt such calm before. At station 12 I could not walk fast anymore, in fact, I could barely walk at all, the two people out of our group went ahead, since they were faster, but one woman decided to help me and walk with me till the end. Walking those 2 last stations to our destination took about 2 hours, even though the distance was only 7 km. My body really started giving up. But my spirit was strong and happy. I took my shoes off for the last 10 minutes as we finally approached the church that marked the 14th station. I was proud of myself. And God was too. The welcoming party gave me tea and pastries to eat, and it was the most satisfying meal of my life. It was earned.

After the Extreme Way of the Cross, the full recovery took me a week, but I was well taken care of. That journey sparked something new inside me, I had a great curiosity to educate myself on everything related to Christianity and for the first time, experience Easter in the church. I sense it was no coincidence that my birthday that year happened exactly on Good Friday. It all felt very cathartic to me. As the year went by, I dived deeper into prayer, but most of all I became a true student of the great mystery. Letting go of all of my previous beliefs and knowledge. Like a newborn baby, I started learning everything from scratch.

Right now, I am in a place of "in-between". If a Christian was to ask me if I'm a Christian too, I'd say 'no'. If a non-Christian asked me that same question, I'd say 'yes'. Because what I learned through all of this is that I no longer belong to any group, any category, or to the world. I only belong to the Lord who created me and he's the only one that knows me so well, to the very core. That's why I wish to know him too and learn his ways and follow his lead. His plan for my life. For it is better than anything I could ever imagine for myself. My parents are surprised with my new found faith and I let go of so many "friends" on the way. Everyone who knew me before says that I'm the last person on Earth that they could ever expect to walk this path. I agree with them. Even I don't recognize myself anymore. I have shed so many layers and God has lifted so much weight off my heart. Everyday I am becoming the person he meant for me to be and I'm honored to have been loved by the greatest love in existence. Hallelujah! This is not the end of my story. This is the holy beginning.