Leave Taking

Returning to the narrative where I left off. ...

As I said previously, I spent a great deal of time today wandering about in the wooded gardens of the Priory grounds exploring its terrain, doing more walking than I originally wanted to, causing additional soreness to my legs. I spent some time meditating, and paid my respects to the Holy House, now alit with candles and decorated with flowers, as was the rest of the Shrine in anticipation of the Maria Consolata. I made use of the simple Rosary I bought before the altar using it to bring my intentions before God.

There is not much left to say about the rest of my stay. Sunday after the Maria Consolata I left for home, with promises to write Adrian, which I intend to make good on, (assuming, of course that I don’t loose his address). Your probably wondering how I got from Walsingham to Norwich for my 8:40 train when I didn’t leave until 7:00, making my last good-byes, eating a last hurried meal forced on me by the Accommodations night staff, preparing myself to return to the cares of the library. Well, to put it simply, and after much wrangling of hands about the lack of bus service, I secured a cab for 7:00 Sunday evening. The return journey home was short, much shorter than the coming., taking less than an hour, and costing about L32. I still had plenty of time to reflect on my journey’s outcome though and prepare for the return to London. Additionally I had a 40 minute wait for the train spending it partly in the open, partly in the enclosed waiting room. This also taught me patience, as there was among the other waiters and elderly gentleman (looking a bit like the stereotypical Santa Clause) who had a habit of talking gibberish and nonsense to himself while reading the paper or doing crossword. He managed to chase out 3 other passengers, and I’m not sure which train he was waiting for -though he was obviously not going to London. I managed not to ignore him, but to tolerate his manners attempting to loose myself in one of the books I had acquired: _Walsingham: its history and spirituality without much success, he kept intruding on my consciousness. Still, I had time to take in my surroundings and notice the effect he had on other people. Occasionally he seemed to relish the reactions around him but I cannot be sure. Still, I reserve judgment and give him the benefit of the doubt. It is not my place to make judgments on others character in passing. One stormed out, others tried to tune him out: at one point there were 4 of us in the waiting room and were all reading! Finally they called my train and I left, gratefully for the train.

The hardest part of any trip is leaving for home, and this trip was no exception. Its also the hardest to write about. Before I left, I was warned that "you will return. It may be later rather than sooner, it may be years from now, but you will return to Walsingham". Sooner or later everyone returns to Walsingham -everyone who has felt the touch of our Lady’s presence at Walsingham, as of her Son will return. If Audrey, Adrian, and Mrs. C are any indication, then I’ve no doubt but that I must return to Walsingham some day, if for nothing else then to participate in the formal Pilgrimage as set forth in the Pilgrim manual. To make an extended study of Walsingham is a dream to replace the dream of coming here, which has been fulfilled. (And with all the book purchases on Walsingham, I am partly on that road anyway.)

And so finally, I left, taking a piece of Walsingham home with me: part of Walsingham’s spirit of waiting. of waiting for the Annunciation, of waiting for Easter, of waiting on the Lord: from the waiting of the first pilgrim, Richeldis -faithful to the commissioning vision of the Blessed Virgin in bringing her House to Walsingham, to the waiting of the early pilgrims royal and common; from the breathless waiting for the end amid the Dissolution, of the endless waiting from the Reformation through the centuries, until the beginning of our century when Pilgrimage and honor were restored to Walsingham, to the waiting of the individual soul before the altar of the Lord.

But memories were not the only things I left with. Material reminders of my Pilgrimage keep Walsingham alive in my memory; the flower from the Priory, the rock from the road, the flower from the service, the books from the shrine shop -all served as reminders of the physical presence of Walsingham in the world, of the touch of the hand of God upon the foothills of His creation. The one-decade Rosary I carried home with me serves also as a reminder of my Pilgrimage -of the journey I underwent and the waiting I endured on the road and off; its reciting bringing to mind the needs and intercessions of others; the Our Lady of Walsingham juncture (the connecting medallion) bringing me closer to Walsingham in spirit. Safe at home at last, there are still things to accomplish. Now there are the thank-you letters to write, letters to friends informing them of the prayers left behind at our Lady’s feet, the candles lit for their intentions entrusted to me. Walsingham has taught me the need for perseverance, and the need for preparation.

Now my trilogy on Our Lady Walsingham is complete taking me from London to Walsingham and back again. ‘Pilgrimage’ is a much greater undertaking, concerned not so much with the externals of my Pilgrimage as these posts were, but the interior, spiritual side. I shall make every effort to consolidate my thoughts for you, but doubt that it will be finished before next week. The inner life is always harder to grasp than the outer.