2
The Pilgrimage Begins
Blessed are those whose strength is in you, whose hearts are set on pilgrimage. As they pass through the Valley of Baka, they make it a place of springs; the autumn rains also cover it with pools. They go from strength to strength, till each appears before God in Zion.
Psalm 84:5-7
New Hope
When Meg arrived at the New Hope Retreat Center on the second Saturday of September, she instinctively looked for the parking space farthest away from the building entrance. After circling a bit, she chose a spot partially shielded by small shrubs.Help, she breathed, turning off the ignition. Her hand was on her seatbelt, half poised to remove it, half clinging to it for security. From her semi-secluded vantage point, she watched a small group of people gather outside the main entrance. She wondered if any of them had wrestled with demons that morning. The sacred journey hadn’t even started, and she was already exhausted.
“Just remember the old saying,” Rachel had told her. “‘A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.’”
As Meg stared at the ivy-covered brick building, she tried to rouse enough courage simply to walk one hundred yards across the parking lot.Help, God, please, she prayed. Though her high heels clicked a steady tempo on the pavement, her insubordinate heart raced uncontrollably. By the time she reached the portico, her chest was pounding in her ears.
A tiny, silver-haired and round-faced woman greeted her at the door. “Welcome! I’m Katherine Rhodes,” she said, extending both her hands. Meg was expecting a flimsy, delicate handshake from the five-foot-nothing sprite—not a firm, steadying, two-handed grip. This was a woman of sturdy resolve, like Meg’s mother. But unlike Ruth Fowler, who had been determinedly wintry, Katherine radiated summery warmth. “Are you here for the sacred journey group?” Katherine asked.
“Yes,” Meg squeaked. She felt her face flush with color. Why was her face always hot when her hands were always cold?
“So glad you’re here,” Katherine said. “Just make your way to the end of the hallway and turn right. And help yourself to coffee and bagels.”
Meg ducked into a restroom off the hallway, relieved to see she was alone. Scrutinizing herself in the mirror, she turned this way and that. No use. Each angle merely gave her new inspiration to find fault. She experimented with pulling her shoulder length blonde curls away from her face, but that was too open. The red blotches were still visible on her neck. So she let her hair down again, opting to shield herself with a veil.
And what about her skirt and blouse? Too dressy? Katherine and the others had been casually dressed. What if she discovered she was the only one in church clothes? She licked her finger and rubbed it feverishly over a small black spot on her sleeve, becoming increasingly irritated with herself.
When a woman wearing jeans and a sweatshirt opened the door, Meg knew she had run out of time to make herself right. There would be no pleasing her clamoring inner critic today, no quieting Mother’s voice inside her head. Or was it her own voice? She wasn’t even sure anymore.
The sunlit, sage green room was filling slowly with casually dressed people when Meg entered. She s