The Pilgrimage to Chimayo
The sound of beating drums, the haunting sound of chanting, the distinct scent of incense burning will serve as a constant reminder of who I am. I am walking down a dusty road, with thousand behind me. This is a walk of enlightenment for some and for others a penance.
The sun will rise high in midday, and the surface will cook under the strength of its heat. The wind will blow with the quiet whisper of his name. The clouds will come, and with them rain, replenishing the poor, who giving thanks.
So now I look back; behind me above the hill the one who walks with his head hung low, and in his hand a Rosary that has yet to be told. In the desert people turn to Christ.
It’s surprising how much God has influenced my life, and it is surprising how much I think of him as my friend. Many people would constantly say, “How can you be friends with someone you can’t see?”. Can you see the wind, can you see the air? Just because you cannot see it doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.
My friends are people I can appreciate and look to for guidance, just as we who live in the desert appreciate water living in the desert.
God is real, and so is Jesus along with the Holy Spirit. I still believe that the three are one in the same.
And all those things came to me by simply living where very few drops of rain ever come.