The cold mountain air nips my skin, I can hear the sound of my stops on the hard path, everything seems abandoned, every star seems to cast a shadow, there are no turns but the lines of trees converge on a gargantuan cross. All the artificial light converge upon it.
I had wanted to go to San Giovanni Rotondo for a while to visit the grave of Padre Pio. Earlier this month, a visit from my mom made this possible.
We spent a long while in prayer before his tomb. We visited the cell where he lived his last years. We saw his clothes, his confessional, and the crucifix he was praying before when he received the stigmata. It is a very peaceful place, especially this time of the year when it is supposed to be rainy – we only got rained on when we stopped in Foggia to switch from a bus to a train.
We decided to go to the early mass (6:30am) so we would have the most time for visiting everything related with Padre Pio. For this reason, we were going up the long walk alone. It ends abruptly with a cross that is probably the biggest I’ve ever seen. It was the part that had a surprising impact for me; this 3 minute walk seemed like the path to the priesthood. All physical supports are inadequate; I walk straight on supported only by those of my family, both natural and religious, to the cross where I am crucified as another Christ.
