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.
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.









