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Thursday, May 12, 2011

Medugorje: Redemption Through & Through






A blog post by Maria Rocha, Spring 2011


Medugorje is a simple kind of beautiful. The kind of beautiful that makes you feel like you are a child again. The kind of beautiful that makes you want to lie down in a field and nap, run around barefoot, and sing. This is the kind of beautiful that makes you want to jump out of bed in the morning.


It’s not the kind of beautiful that makes you feel hideous. It’s not a production. Rather, it just is. It invites you to join in the unspeakable beauty.


We climbed Apparition Hill on our first day. We were to reach the top just in time for Our Lady to appear to the visionaries, who were somewhere in the city. As we climbed, I noticed a very, very old Italian woman climbing up in front of us. Her back was hunched over and her grey hair was disheveled. She wore a deep green dress and wore black worn shoes that contained her gnarled feet. Her walk up the mountain looked painful. As our group passed her, anyone who was near her would take her hand and help her for a second. The guys would take her arm and walk with her until she waved them away. The woman had a will as unrelenting as the mountain she climbed. With every difficult step she let out an exclamation like “issaahh!” She was determined to overcome this mountain. Determination does not die with age.









The next day we all climbed Cross Mountain. Most of us were barefoot. As we walked we picked our way up the mountain looking for smooth stones to set our feet upon. However, Cross Mountain was not smooth for any of us. Yet, it showed me the true men that have emerged in our group. Those men that took the time to do the littlest things like, offer others water before they took a sip, carry other people’s shoes, run down the mountain to retrieve shoes for the ladies, carry a woman down the mountain, and those who trailed behind to be available to those who would not make it to the top alone. This is the kind of man that is not always present in American society, this is the kind of man who is formed, built and molded by the hand of God through our Blessed Mother. These men were an incredible witness of male redemption to a jaded cynic like me. These are the men that will change the world for the better.

That weekend wasn’t earth shattering. I didn’t have an intense emotional experience. I didn’t see the sun dance or Our Lady in the hills. I didn’t need to see anything to know She was there. I didn’t have to be shaken, pushed, or pulled to know I’d come to see my Mother. I was a quiet feeling that crept into my soul the way a child climbs onto your lap. Our Mother has a funny way of showing you the things you have forgotten about yourself, a unique ability to reveal to you your true self, to gently push you back to who you really are. That’s what happened in Medugorje.

Many of my peers went in looking for answers about the future and I’m sure they received the words they needed. I, however, came in empty with nothing but my guitar and a few broken prayers, left Medugorje alive. I left with a song in my heart that was not new but a lovely revision of the one my very being has sung for years. I left knowing and embracing the girl I forgot I was. I left full of grace and love for our Mother and her Son.

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