Despite my deep and abiding faith, something in me prickled when I tried to convince myself that this could be the real deal. I couldn’t bring myself to go, that is until my most recent — and fifth — visit to the Eternal City. The Holy Stairs were on the itinerary of the pilgrimage I was leading through Italy. When we arrived at the site, I fully intended to stand by and let the other pilgrims proceed, and then my husband, Dennis, volunteered to go first when no one else stepped forward. I immediately joined him, as did our son, Noah.

It is customary to climb the 28 steps on your knees while praying, which is what we did. As the three of us began, all on the same step as we inched our way up, I prayed for all those intentions I had brought with me from people back home and for my family and friends. As we continued, sometimes waiting for those ahead who were having more difficulty navigating the ascent, I began expanding my prayers to include all those who were before and behind me on the stairs, and finally, as my knees started to ache and I felt a twinge in my back, my prayers seemed to encompass the whole world, and there was a feeling of incredible love for all those on the stairs with me. It was for me a version of what Trappist monk Tho­mas Merton described in his “Fourth and Walnut moment,” when he stood on a street corner in Kentucky and saw those around him shining like the sun.

I was deeply moved, not because I suddenly believed without a doubt in the veracity of the claim that the stairs are the stairs, but because none of that mattered anymore. What mattered was that we climbed those stairs out of faith, bound together by a common purpose with our interior prayers swirling around the silence.

That night, as our pilgrimage group gathered for dinner, we began talking about our favorite parts of the day, which, as you might expect on a pilgrimage through Italy, was jam-packed with important spiritual sites. I was so happy to hear numerous people say that the Holy Stairs were the highlight. And that is the blessing and beauty of pilgrimage.

We often think we understand the meaning of the word “pilgrimage,” until we find ourselves in the midst of an actual pilgrim journey with things not going exactly as planned, or on a staircase we had no intention of climbing and discover transcendence and transformation where we least expect it. That is often the case when we are willing to embrace the journey before us rather than the image we’ve created in our minds. To be a pilgrim is not to sit in a café and sip espresso, although that’s lovely; it is to walk the path of those who came before us in hopes that as we do so we will be changed.

Author Mark Nepo writes: “To journey without being changed is to be a nomad. To change without journeying is to be a chameleon. To journey and to be transformed by the journey is to be a pilgrim.”

We do not have to travel far to take up the pilgrim journey. Our very lives can become a pilgrimage, if we can, as St. Catherine of Siena said, recognize that “all the way to heaven is heaven.” God is in our every breath, our every step. All that’s required is our attention and intention.

Mary DeTurris Poust is leading two September retreats in the region: Stillpoint at Pyramid Life Center on Sept. 5-7, and The Journey Is the Goal at Graymoor Retreat Center on Sept. 19-21. For more information, click HERE.

This column originally appeared in the July 24, 2025 issue of The Evangelist.

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I’m not one to find meaning in every little thing that happens, but every once in a while, something stops me. This feather certainly did. It felt like it was meant to make me pause, pay attention. And although I don’t often feel my mother’s presence around me — in the 36 years she’s been gone I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve felt her nearness — on that day in that gorgeous square, she was there. I tucked the feather in my bag and put it out of my head for the next few hours. But then. Then, then, then! As I walked down the streets of Rome, I spotted another perfect white feather floating right where I put my foot down. And another and another. I’m not talking the run-of-the-mill pigeon feathers that are all over Rome. These were perfectly white, perfectly shaped, perfectly curled, and no one but me seemed to be noticing them. I lost count when it went over 40 in the next few days. Finally, as we stood outside the duomo in Orvieto, a tiny white feather descended, and my husband caught it and handed it to me.

Right about now, you might be thinking I’ve lost my mind but hear me out. Two of my favorite talented spiritual women writers — Emily Dickinson and St. Hildegard of Bingen — had profound things to say about feathers. Dickinson wrote: “Hope is the thing with feathers. That perches in the soul. And sings the tune without the words. And never stops – at all.” And Hildegard famously said: “I am but a feather on the breath of God.”

Both women remind us that these delicate, fragile, seemingly insignificant natural wonders have something powerful to teach us about trust and surrender, hope and joy. To be a feather on the “breath of God” is to be carried to places we haven’t intended to go but trust in God’s reasons. The tune we sing without words is that deep communication that happens when we let go of the rote prayers that are as familiar to us as our own name and enter into an interior conversation with God in a way that can be all at once beautiful and scary, energizing and paralyzing.

As I tossed all of this around in my heart and soul as we pounded the cobblestone streets of Italy to pray before the remains of saints, we came to St. Mary Major, where our wise Rome guide, Jan, talked to us about the relics housed there: wood believed to be part of the manger in Bethlehem, and relics of St. Matthew and St. Jerome. One of our pilgrims looked at him skeptically and said, “But how do they know that?” Jan went on to say that they do research and can date objects. The he posed a question: “At a certain point, the rest is what? Faith.” He added: “Faith is a decision; you make a decision to believe.”

Like that feather falling from the sky, Jan’s words pulled me up short. I took out my iPhone and jotted them down so I wouldn’t forget. Yes, “hope is the thing with feathers,” but faith is the thing that gives those wings the power to soar.

This column originally appeared in the October 24, 2024, issue of The Evangelist.

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We will visit the most spectacular and sacred sites these Italian cities have to offer while leaving plenty of time for sipping a cappuccino in a piazza, shopping in an open-air market, or just wandering down a narrow cobblestone street toward a hidden-but-magnificent gem you didn’t even know you needed to see. Throughout we’ll have our own chaplain with us every step of the way. Father Matthew Duclos of the Albany Diocese will say daily Mass for our group and offer insights gained from his years of study in Rome. That’s a benefit that can’t be calculated!

We’ll stay four nights in Rome, giving us plenty of time to get our fill of the Eternal City and all its glories, including a papal audience with Pope Francis. From there we’ll take our comfortable motor coach to the small-but-spectacular city of Orvieto en route to Assisi, where we will spend two nights soaking up the mystical, magical energy that seeps up from the streets of this city of St. Francis. We head to Siena next, another not-to-be-missed medieval city, on our way to fabulous Florence, where we will spend another two days and nights. We head north to the quaint and walkable city of Padua, which will be our base for Venice and our last two days of the pilgrimage. We’ll depart from Venice on another non-stop flight back to Newark on Friday, Oct. 11, 2024.

I have traveled to Italy four times — as a pilgrimage leader, a pilgrim, a student, and with my family — and I can tell you that this particular pilgrimage offers a wonderful and much-needed balance, giving us plenty of time in key cities to see all that needs to be seen while also providing ample time to experience Italian life and not simply check off a list of tourist attractions. You don’t want to race through Italy; you want to experience, at least now and then, dolce far niente — the sweetness of doing nothing, for which Italians are so famous. Join me, and find out for yourself why I continue to return to Italy again and again. You will discover that you cannot get enough.

You can find many more details in the full itinerary and brochure HERE. For New York Capital Region folks, Father Matt and I will be hosting an informational gathering on Sunday, Jan,. 14, at 10 a.m. at St. Matthew’s Church in Voorheesville, following the 9 a.m. Mass. Join us for a slide show, Q&A, and some Italian cookies!

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Join me for a fabulous 2024 pilgrimage to Italy that will begin in Rome and take you to Orvieto, Assisi, Siena, Florence, Padua, and Venice. The trip of a lifetime in a country that is nothing short of spectacular. From the awe of St. Peter’s Basilica and the Colosseum to the quaintness of ancient narrow streets and open-air markets, you will get to experience the very best of what Italy has to offer. We will leave New York on Monday, September 30, and return Friday, October 11, The tour will be organized and operated by Select International Tours & Cruises. I will serve as your tour leader, and Father Matt Duclos of the Albany Diocese will serve as our priest chaplain. Cost: $3,995 land only. Airfare options will be offered as soon as group pricing is available. If you want to sign up right away to reserve your spot, you’ll be given an option to get the airfare pricing as well as soon as it becomes available.

For fun updates related to Italy and the cities we’ll be visiting, follow my travel page on Facebook: Italy: A Feast for Body & Soul
You can find my page on the Select International website HERE. Or click on the PDF of the brochure below for details.

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Join me for a fabulous 2024 pilgrimage to Italy that will begin in Rome and take you to Orvieto, Assisi, Siena, Florence, Padua, and Venice. The trip of a lifetime in a country that is nothing short of spectacular. From the awe of St. Peter’s Basilica and the Colosseum to the quaintness of ancient narrow streets and open-air markets, you will get to experience the very best of what Italy has to offer. We will leave New York on Monday, September 30, and return Friday, October 11, The tour will be organized and operated by Select International Tours & Cruises. I will serve as your tour leader, and Father Matt Duclos of the Albany Diocese will serve as our priest chaplain. Cost: $3,995 land only. Airfare options will be offered as soon as group pricing is available. If you want to sign up right away to reserve your spot, you’ll be given an option to get the airfare option as well as soon as it becomes available.

You can find my landing page on the Select website HERE. Or click on the PDF of the brochure below.

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Of course, my Irish relatives did the same, escaping oppression and famine only to land in a place where “Irish Need Not Apply.” Both the Irish and the Italians were considered less-than by earlier immigrants to this nation, whose birth we celebrate this month. And to this day, despite progressive attitudes in many other areas, it is still socially acceptable to joke about Italians as mobsters and Irish as drunks. Because we humans seem to find our power in demeaning others rather than lifting each other up.

The players may be different today, but the reality is the same. People who look or speak or worship differently from us are “other,” and in finding a common enemy—someone we imagine threatens the status quo—we seek to strengthen our own position and power. At least, that’s how the world sees it, but as people of the Gospel, the Way of Jesus Christ, we know better, or at least we’re supposed to know better.

I feel heartbroken as I look at the division and hatred that seems to grow with each passing day in our country. Like tentacles reaching out in every direction, it threatens to choke out everything we hold dear if each and every one of us is not willing to take a hard look at ourselves and a compassionate look at our neighbors. It is so easy to see someone at work, down the street, in a store and think we know that person’s story. They’ve got it made. Look at that house, that car, that job, that family, that vacation. Easy street. But we all have stories, a history that has shaped us over generations.

My Italian grandfather was an upholsterer, with a ridiculous commute from Brooklyn to Haverstraw long before there was a Palisades Parkway. My Irish grandfather was a machinist in the Dexter Paper Company in Pearl River, even though he had aced all his Regents exams and wanted to go to college. Their struggles are glossed over now by subsequent generations whose lives seem filled with relative ease, but we all know (or hope) that 50 or 100 years down the road, God willing, our grandchildren and great-grandchildren will look back at our own struggles and wonder how we did what we did to get through the challenges life threw us.

If only we could look into the eyes of every person we meet and recognize the unseen struggles that live there. Our problems begin when we forget that others suffer, too, and think that we are the only ones forced to deal with challenges, injustice, loss, heartbreak.

The day I sat at a table laden with homemade pasta, just-caught seafood and local wine as I looked out over the Mediterranean Sea, I was overcome by the reality of the sacrifices that were made by the people before me so that I might have a better life—even though there would be no “I” for many years to come. Because we don’t always sacrifice for our own good; we sacrifice for the good of others, for those who are not yet born, for the future, and we are called to do that as one nation, under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.

This column originally appeared in the July 15, 2020, issue of Catholic New York.

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When we delivered our gifts to the parish’s school gym for distribution last weekend, Olivia and I asked Barbara, the woman in charge, about the remaining tags on the tree. What would happen to those gifts, we asked. They won’t get bought, she said. Some were general asks, such as “Women’s pajamas. Large,” meaning the organization didn’t have a specific person in mind but knew it would be used for one of the many people served. Others, however, had first names. Pel wanted a warm black jacket. Evie wanted a porcelain doll. Olivia and I looked at each other and grabbed those two tags, and we set out to find the doll. I headed straight for Tuesday Morning in Glenmont because it seemed to me that inexpensive porcelain dolls should be Tuesday Morning’s wheelhouse. Wrong. The closest we came was a truly frightening porcelain cat in a Santa suit. To which I could only say, Why?

So I put out a call on Facebook, asking if any local friends knew where I could buy a fairly inexpensive porcelain doll. In response, I received two, count ’em, two messages from friends (Thank you, Jennifer and Arlene.) saying that they had porcelain dolls in excellent condition and would be willing to donate them. When I delivered the first doll to the parish, they asked if the second would be coming because they already had someone in mind. And so Evie is getting her Christmas wish answered, and now someone else, perhaps a woman who isn’t expecting to get anything at all, will also get a porcelain doll.

As I thought about writing this post as a thank you to my friends, I couldn’t help but reflect on the many times people — far, near, virtual — have stepped up to help, sometimes without my even asking — and have made my life so much better, easier, happier. Like last night, when Chiara’s religion teacher (Thank you, Michele.) stopped by to deliver her little Christmas gift and faith formation handouts because Chiara missed class yesterday. Or when we went to Italy, and I called on a whole army of local helpers to make sure my dad and stepmom didn’t have to cart three busy kids all over an unfamiliar town while we were gone for 13 days. To and from dance class and gymnastics class and Scout meetings and school clubs  they drove, sometimes more than once, so that Dennis and I could travel worry-free. Even friends I haven’t seen or spoken to in months called or emailed or pulled me aside on the way out of Sunday Mass to tell me to give my parents their cell phone numbers in case of emergency, or for any reason at all. I want to list them all, but I’m afraid I’ll miss someone — that’s how many people were involved. But I’ll give it a shot…

Thank you for being my extra set of feet, ears, eyes, car keys: Laura, Michele, Valerie, Joan K., Joan W., Lisa, Jessica, Rob, Rose, Fred, Delia, and Liv’s friend who transported her back and forth to Homecoming. And thank you to friends and neighbors who offered to be on call should the need for help arise, which, thankfully, it did not: Anne, Teresa, Denise, Arlene, and anyone I might have missed on this list but really hope I didn’t.

I am so grateful not only for your support and generosity when I was in Italy or when I was searching for a porcelain doll but always. So often many of you offer to drive one of my children somewhere to save me a trip or take one of my kids overnight or come to my rescue with some crazy item I need for school or travel or Giving Trees. Know that you are my village. And I am happy to be yours if ever, whenever you need me.

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Our trip to the Hermitage of St. Francis (Eremo delle Carceri) was well worth the early drive via taxis (because the road is too narrow and winding for a tour bus) to the retreat on the slope of Mount Subiaso. This is where St. Francis and his friars came to get away from the busyness of life and pray in silence and solitude. The views were stunning, but the fact that we were able to touch the walls of the cell where St. Francis once slept was pretty overwhelming. Here’s a quick visit to the hermitage in photos.

Entering the hermitage. Can you tell I can’t get enough of this St. Francis stuff?

The chapel where St. Francis prayed…

Looking out from the hermitage…

Narrow stairs leading to St. Francis’ cell…

St. Francis slept here in this little cave. I just kept running my hand over the wall, trying to grasp the fact that I was actually touching a wall that St. Francis surely touched as he came and went from this cell.

Exiting the cell. Obviously St. Francis wasn’t a very tall fellow…

Hermitage beauty…

Out on the grounds…Imagine St. Francis looking out at that view and praying his Canticle of Brother Sun and Sister Moon.

After the hermitage, we headed to the Church of San Damiano, where St. Clare and her Sisters lived. We attended Mass while we were there. Here’s the spot where St. Clare died:

Here’s the window where she stood holding the Eucharist, eventually turning back attacking forces.

The flowers mark the spot where St. Clare prayed each day.

Me with my godmother, Aunt Margaret, in the cloister garden at San Damiano.

From there our fearless bus driver, Sergio, managed to drive our giant bus up some very narrow, winding country roads and around hairpin bends — even backing our bus back down a road that was just too small — so that we could eat lunch at the Arnaldo-Caprai winery, an agriturismo that serves only what it grows and makes on its own grounds. Here’s one view:

Our antipasto. Actually this was just one small part of our first course. Not enough room for all those photos.

Our segundi — the best rigatoni I have ever had.

Our favorite of the many wines we tasted.

Back out on the grounds…

Me and my sweetie at the winery.

The best bus driver ever: Sergio.

And…the three musketeers of the pilgrimage: On the left, Melani of Joyful Catholic Journeys — the one who got this whole food-faith pilgrimage rolling two years ago; yours truly; and Isabella, the most amazing tour guide ever. She MADE this pilgrimage. So talented, so hard-working, so funny and knowledgeable. We were truly blessed to have her as our guide from start to finish. To be honest, I can’t imagine going back to Italy with out her.

And finally…a return to our hotel for a last dinner in Assisi. This is taken from the window of our room with a view. Yeah, amazing.

Next up: ROME, one of my favorite places on earth. (Assisi being the other.) If you missed yesterday’s Assisi post, click HERE And if you want to go back to see any of the earlier pilgrimage posts, click the “Travel” or “Pilgrimage” tabs at the top of my blog menu. Ciao for now!

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Our pilgrimage group was lucky enough to spend two days in Assisi — inside the city walls and out in the surrounding area. Although we didn’t originally intend to go back to the center of Assisi the second day, a large group of us just couldn’t stay away. We had to go back for one more dose of what can only be described as heaven on earth. You can feel the sacredness of the place seeping up through the ancient stone streets. You can sense St. Francis all around you. You can spend hours just walking and sitting and watching the world go by and be perfectly content, which is what we did on our visit the second day.

In today’s little photo essay below, I’ll give you shots from inside the city on both days, with one exception. Although it’s outside the city walls, I’ve included our visit to Santa Maria degli Angeli because the Porziuncula should be included with the rest of the holy sites of Assisi and not with the winery tour. So here you’ll see the beautiful city of Assisi: spiritually powerful, physically breathtaking. I can’t wait to go back.

First stop, the San Damiano cross. This is the cross that spoke to Francis, that all-important moment when Jesus told him to “repair my church, which you see is falling into ruin.” Francis, as we know, thought Jesus meant the actual physical church building, but later Francis figured out that he meant the Church as in universal Church. He founded the Franciscan Order, and the work began and continues to this day. So this cross is pretty special. It hangs in the Basilica of Santa Chiara. (And thank you, Dennis, for snapping this photo despite signs that said it was forbidden.)

As we made our way through the city we passed lots of little stalls selling cheese and cured meats. Oh, if only I could have taken samples home…

And lots of roadside shrines. Just gorgeous. This one was my favorite.

And beautiful doors, like this one.

On the street where St. Francis was born, there’s a beautiful church built on the spot, and at the end of the street a little door leading to a shrine that is supposed to be on the exact spot where Francis was born. Here’s the alley…

Here’s the shrine…

Believe it or not, this alley and that shrine are on a regular street where we found an amazing little restaurant, Otello’s. We had a fantastic meal, and our guide later told us — when she asked where we had eaten — that we had found a local gem. We can vouch for that. Here’s my meal of farro e fagioli. Dennis’ pizza is in the background. And local wine, always wine.

Here’s us looking really happy about being at this restaurant in this city. Assisi selfie.

Finally we made our way to the Basilica of St. Francis, the moment I had been waiting for. Okay, one of the moments, but a pretty big one.

Right where we were standing for the photo above was a home with its shutters open. Dennis managed to catch a boy watching us from the half-open shutter.

How about this beautiful alley with a view. There’s actually a restaurant at the end of this with a few seats looking out over Umbria.

Our first day in Assisi also included a visit outside the city walls to St. Mary of the Angels, which is the basilica that is built over the Porziuncula. So it is a church within a church. Here’s the basilica from the outside:

And here’s the inside. The little church is the one where Francis heard Christ talking to him from the cross. (Thank you again, Dennis, for taking a forbidden photo.)

On our second day in the city, we had a chance to relax in the main piazza and just watch the world go by. Make sure you have time to do this when you visit. Here was the view from our table.

Here we are enjoying Birra Chiara, a beer named after our daughter. Okay, named after St. Clare.

Finally it was time to leave. It wasn’t easy to leave. It’s not even easy to leave this post about Assisi, as you can probably tell by the overload of photos.

Here’s one last look back at the city as we depart at dusk.

If you’d like to experience Assisi, join me on my next pilgrimage, Sept. 30-Oct. 11, 2024. Email me for info, or watch this website. Or follow my travel page on Facebook: Italy, A Feast for Body and Soul

If you missed my earlier posts, click on Florence, Siena, and/or Coffee, wine and beer, oh my.

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