Gail's reflections

When I first heard of the plans for a pilgrimage from Reigate to Canterbury, I know I wanted to take part, even if we had to sleep on church hall floors (we didn’t).  The idea of doing this, like in the past with others, appealed.

Preparation was the key, and on the first (wet) practice walk, my gear was tested, but also it was revealed that I wasn’t up to the speed of others, so I was thankful that shorter walks over the five days were arranged. I am grateful to God that I can walk, following an illness many years ago.

I was surprised and encouraged to see so many on Reigate Hill to see us off on the journey, and soon at the Millennium stones, the group was surrounded by curious sheep and goats. I was struck by and puzzled long and hard on this image, with its similarities to the Biblical tale.

This was time set aside to be with God in a more conscious way. More used to the silence and stillness of retreat, I was broken from my shell of comfort, as the pilgrimage had a strong physical aspect, making each part very memorable

The walking involved safe exploration, combined with the thrill of the unknown. Once, inattentive, I missed the signpost, and led the group downhill off course, and we had to work our way back. The journey had many elements; there were some long easy broad paths through beautiful bluebell woods, and occasional grassy slopes with a view.  There were bumpy meadows that hurt my feet, and downwards paths with loose stones and twigs, where I had to watch my footing.  Sometimes I climbed down a long flight of big steps to, not long afterwards, climb up another such flight.  I do not enjoy climbing hills and was slow up them, and careful coming down, while others didn’t seem to notice them, or said it hurts them more to go down.  The hardest stretch for me was in the middle, while the last day was through undulating countryside filled with orchards just busting into bud. The analogies to the Christian spiritual journey are obvious. 

For myself, I puzzled on such things as - why did I get asked the deeper questions just as I was putting all my energy into climbing a hill? As I relied greatly on my hiking stick, leaning heavy on it to conquer hills,  I considered  whether, and how I could   cling  as dependently to our Father.  When I was worried with staying safe and struggling to keep going on the right path, I found it less easy to think ‘higher’ thoughts.  I wondered how those living far tougher and busier lives, particularly if preoccupied with physical survival, can find the time for spiritual awareness. 

Before the start of the pilgrimage I knew few details about the members of this eclectic band of fellow travellers, but they definitely got me through to the end.  They kept me moving. My affection and respect for them would grow and widened. As we shared our stories, it was heartening to hear how Jesus had worked in them to heal brokenness, and is shaping the present.  The psalms  seems a particular inspiration in our morning and evening meetings and saying the  pilgrimage prayer of protection in demand as a point of unity at the beginning of our walks.

I lost my mobile phone going over a stile, but because my walking companion rung it, and then later on, so did my prayer partner – it was found and returned, an amazing provision.

My awareness of the need for protection for the ongoing journey as we entered the cathedral at the conclusion of the pilgrimage, was helped  when during the communion service, Hazel preached, highlighting the shoes of peace and the belt of truth from the armour of God.

A strong longing took me on pilgrimage. I desired views (from hill tops) – and there were occasional vistas. Thankfully, I was enabled physically; I did not fall over and was kept safe on the walk.  I gained a little more self knowledge, and appreciation of community.

So looking forward, my prayer is  I will follow Jesus our Shepherd, and grow in the strength and grace of God, so I may  serve, albeit unknowingly, others on the way to journey’s end, like the sheep in the Bible narrative.