"What is wrong with me?" I thought. Since our arrival in Santiago, I have visited the cathedral several times, and have knelt down in the pew. I couldn't utter a prayer, not even a 'thank you' (now that I think about it!). It was as if I was completely mute, internally. I was putting my gators on this morning in the hotel room while J was settling our bill at the front desk. I had this sudden urge to pray. The little voice said, "Pray, now!". Tears welled up and I knew I had to heed that voice. It was as if a mute had been cured. Words were coming to me flawlessly. I had an image in my mind - an image of the rock I touched in the Church of Agony on the Mt. Of Olives, in the Holy Land, where I promised myself that I will always remember God. Prayers came to me this morning that were all about what is really at stake here? And what is really important? I think J. Brierley is right that all these miles I walk really mean nothing if I cannot find the way to inner transformation. If I continue to give so much value to bodily comfort and worldly worries all that is waiting for me at the end of the street is my own mortality. And where do I go from there? I wept for God's aid that I may be strong enough to remember Him for the remainder of our pilgrimage. Once again, I promised myself that I will remember what is important and why I am here. I echo what Thomas Merton had said, "O God, only save me from myself!"
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