Woosh!
Originally published at Closed Doors. You can comment here or there.
Sorry for the outage. Seems like nothing technological wants to work with me for the past couple of weeks. I want to finish telling you my “pilgrimage” experience, but I have come to realise there’s only so much i can “describe”. I can’t tell you the extent of my exhilaration, nor how mundane life’s suddenly become now that I am back.
The few things I have learnt from WYD08 was that our God loves us, and despite the fact that I have been a major disappointment time and again, He will still forgive me as long as I repent, I acknowledge him and acknowledge my mistakes and not do them again.
The most beautiful thing that I felt was the unity of the church, the people near me, the diversity of the people that follows God, the different ways they worship God and I was pretty amazed all in all. I knew i am a pretty self-centered person, but watching these people care for each other and their communities…. I wanted to belong with them and just contribute to them.
I
fell desperately ill on Friday morning. I already had a cold prior to going up to Sydney, and then the living conditions (which really wasn’t bad) that we were in excarbated my condition into a full on flu which pretty much exhausted my lungs. By the time Friday morning rolled along, mucous was dripping down my throat and into my lungs voluntarily. at about 10a.m, I visited a doctor in Lurnea Medical center (or something along those lines) with an incredibly sore throat, almost on the verge of losing my voice. I felt breathless and wanted to just roll over and lose my neck (if that was possible). The doctor pretty much looked at me, listened to my right lung and told me i just needed antibiotics and I would be good to go.
And then I left for the Stations of the Cross….
At the 8th station, I was panting, wanting to roll over dead, and shivering from the cold. For someone who’s been in Canberra for this long, and who loves the cold, this is quite an unusual state. I just thought perhaps it’s the wind, and proceeded to the First Aid station to “borrow” the warmth.
I never quite came out properly. Even with a blanket and heater on me, I was trembling like a mad dog, registering a temperature that fluctuated around 35 to 40 and my heart rate swung to 129. I felt tired, my eyelids were heavy, so I just “relaxed”, only to find that i would stop breathing whenever I did that. I got scared each time and started gasping for Air….
the Doctor and nurses were worried to death. They put me on oxygen tanks and 2 nebulisers before i was some what stabilised enough. and then i was pretty much advised to go home. I couldn’t stay in the cold, I couldn’t do any real physical stuff (i,e the walk to randwick).
But you know, I felt like I did what I came here for. I had my cake, and I ate it. Had I seen the Pope, it would be the best icing on the cake - but I did have my cake.
The night before my body delivered me into what felt like near death, I met a man on the train. Since the week was full of both crazy, ignorant people and really nice, warm loving people, when he first started requesting an audience (it was the way he asked, it felt like he was asking to meet us
), i thought he was about to bash us and question our “blind” faith.
This man proceeded to tell us his life story. He was a vet: been to Phillipines, Vietnam, East Timor - you name it. He was also about 40. He’s grown up in a Catholic family, gone to Catholic schooling but has pretty much fallen off the path because, as he puts it, “Religion was something to be ashamed about in Australia”. He’s killed men while on duty, and didn’t think twice about it.
And then… he asked, “Would the Church and God still want me back?” and he burst into tears.
we spent about 2 hours standing in the cold after the train stopped, explaining to him what little we knew about the church doctrines on penance and redemption - and how much God loves. He just bawled like a baby, and thanked us profusely in between tears, because, according to him, he was scared we would have turned him away or told him no, he wasn’t welcomed.
I offered him my Catechism book that we all got with our WYD package, a hug, a prayer and the offer to come to church with us tomorrow. Whilst he never made it to the church, I hope he read through the book, forgive himself and find the forgiveness and love he so seek from the church and God. Because, the love is there, the forgiveness is also already there - he just needs to find his way into forgiving himself before he would be able to realise all he’s seeking for has been there all this time, waiting for him.
Here, I want to thank my priest Fr Laurie for letting me into the pilgrimage to Sydney, for all the support he’s provided. To the ANU Pilgrims, thanks for all the care and concern that I knew i spurned while i was at Sydney. I do appreciate it, albeit I am terribly bad at showing it. To the Vet, I thank you for your questions and your tears, because you made me realise that there’s alot of people out there that were like me: at times uncertain of God’s love and yet still seeking for it constantly.
And to God… I still love you. I suck at attending church, and praying often enough, not to mention keeping to my promises. I am not perfect, and I am lazy as, I will change though :D <3