In one church, a man bent low over a “carpet” of colored sawdust, designing beautiful images on the ground for a Lenten celebration.The design would be trampled and swept away soon after it was done, a reminder of the fleetingness of this life but the need to seek beauty anyway. Baskets of fruit and dozens of candles surrounded the artist and the altar beyond. As I walked back down the aisle, an entire Mayan family approached the altar on their knees, momentarily stopping me in my tourist tracks. My daughter and I just stood in awe.

It took a visit to this stunning developing country to call me back to what this Lenten journey is supposed to mean for me, for us. In a place where people live in corrugated tin shacks and where street vendors sell their wares with babies strapped to their chests and blankets stacked on their heads, faith and joy and generosity are rampant. Before I went to Guatemala, I had some reservations. The U.S. State Department website says: “Reconsider travel due to crime.” But not once did I feel unsafe, just the opposite. I never met a rude or cranky Guatemalan, even in the airport after hours of delay, even among the beggars on the street. Instead, I was met with a pureness of heart that exemplified the Gospel.

“Blessed are the pure in spirit,” Jesus said. So often I’ve wondered what that looks like in real life. Now I know. Among a people who have been through forced conversion, a stripping of their Mayan culture, enslavement, civil war and far more than we can imagine, I found only love.

On our last day, Olivia and I rushed back to Antigua to soak up a few more hours before heading to Guatemala City for our flight. I ducked into a shop that had on its outside walls two large purple banners with three crosses marked on each. In my broken Spanish, I asked if there were purple Lenten flags for sale, hoping to bring one home. The worker just looked at me quizzically and instead pointed to a Guatemalan flag. The memory would need to be enough, and it is.

As we head into Holy Week, I hold in my heart the Guate­malan people who touched my life in ways I never expected when I booked this trip. From Paola, the Mayan artisan who tried to teach me to weave (no small feat); to Ruth, the vendor in Parque Central who won me over on two separate occasions and to whom I gladly overpaid for two table runners; to Alex, our indigenous guide who told me with great pride about Blessed Stanley Rother (known as Padre Apla’s to the Mayans) and pointed to the base of two volcanoes where he lived and died and remains a “grandfather” to the people he helped free from oppression. “He is Jesus to them,” Alex said.

Maybe that’s why Guatemala affected me so deeply. Jesus is alive there, not just in Blessed Stanley Rother’s memory, but in the words and actions of every person who crossed my path — literally. Sometimes here at home, it can be hard to see Jesus in the people around us, or to be Jesus to the people who make our lives difficult. But the beautiful Guatemalan people, many of whom would have every reason to be cranky or impatient, showed me what true faith looks like, and it doesn’t require a purple Lenten flag.

All photos © Mary DeTurris Poust
This column originally appeared in the March 21, 2024, issue of The Evangelist.

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Air travel is not for the faint of heart. Although I don’t have a fear of flying, I do have a fear of pretty much everything else involved: getting through security, missing my connection, losing my luggage, etc. So when a recent trip from Milwaukee to upstate New York devolved into a multi-day travel odyssey, I was amazed to find myself reveling in the experience.

It began after I’d led a five-day retreat for the Pallottine Fathers on the Wisconsin-Illinois border and was dropped off at the airport five hours before my flight. Armed with a new novel, a cup of coffee and a two-hour webinar on compassion and courage, I patiently whiled away the hours. As the time for my flight to Detroit neared, a delay was posted and I knew there was no way I’d make my connection. Attempts to get rerouted proved unsuccessful, so I returned to my seat, accepting the likelihood that I’d be sleeping in the Detroit airport on the travel yoga mat packed in my carry-on. A stranger sitting nearby suggested I try to get on the flight to New York’s LaGuardia Airport, which was boarding at the gate opposite ours. My first angel on this trip.

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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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As the lazy days of summer wind down and travel plans shift from weeklong vacations to weekend getaways, it’s nice to know that a short hop on a direct flight from Albany International Airport can get you to the Windy City, where there’s something for everyone, whether your interests run toward sports, art, food, architecture or shopping. And, if you’re interested in tackling two cities, a quick and inexpensive Amtrak ride will take you from Chicago to Milwaukee, where more of everything awaits on the banks of the seemingly endless Lake Michigan.

Chicago is one of those cities that almost everyone has been through — even if only on a layover at one of its twomajor airports — but doing a deep dive into the city of deep-dish pizza can fill a weekend to overflowing.

Having a game plan is a good bet. Start by choosing from one of the many hotels that are within walking distance of most major sights. Somewhere along the Magnificent Mile, known for its upscale shops, is the perfect location for navigating the must-see attractions. Purchase the Chicago CityPASS, and you’ll save money and time by getting one ticket to access five key attractions.  Continue reading…

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@marydtp518

#jellyfish #letgo #gowiththeflow

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Undaunted, I prepared my talk—Finding the Joy in Waiting—and embarked on the adventure of a new city and a new audience. I didn’t have a lot of time, but I’d decided that I’d try to squeeze in a few key must-see stops. Saturday morning, in predictable Seattle drizzle, I called an Uber, hopped into the car and immediately got into a conversation with my driver. Since she was picking me up at the church, she was curious about why I was there. We started covering some religious ground. She was Greek Orthodox, originally from Ethiopia. By the time I got out at Pike Place Market, teeming with fish and flower stalls, gift shops and coffee bars, I felt uplifted and abuzz with a palpable spiritual vibe.

Fueled with a cappuccino and a crumpet known as “The Life Changer,” I happened into a gift shop whose name intrigued me: The Raven’s Nest. I’m a sucker for anything having to do with ravens. I wandered around looking at Native American and Asian treasures. As I went to the counter to pay for a stone etched with a crow (not a Raven, but close enough), I started talking to the owner. She asked if the item I was buying was a gift. I said, no, it was for my own sacred space, and we were off. Next thing I knew, she was tucking her card into my bag and holding my hand. I felt like I had just received a blessing and could not help but smile as I practically floated along to the next vendor.

Throughout my short jaunt around Seattle, I felt a spiritual vibration all around me, even in the French restaurant where I sat at a table for one with my glass of rosé, people watching from my perch. A woman approached me to ask what kind of wine I was drinking because she liked the color — a first in my many years of eating out and drinking wine. We got to talking while I waited for my food and before she moved on, she knew about my retreat and I knew her husband had gone to Catholic school in San Diego. Spiritual connections everywhere, just waiting to be made. God isn’t in hibernation in the Pacific Northwest, He’s just wearing different clothes and drinking good coffee.

We hear a lot about the “nones” these days, a moniker that is not very friendly and is actually somewhat derogatory, but I would venture to guess that many of the “nones” out there are bubbling with God’s presence, just waiting for an invitation to engage in a conversation even if they are not ready for a conversion. The question is, are we ready to acknowledge that God is with our spiritual-but-not-religious brothers and sisters just as deeply and as unconditionally as He is with those of us who make it to church each Sunday?

As my Uber driver, Moses, shuttled me be back to St. Monica’s and we talked about everything from religion to restaurants, I felt blessed in a way I hadn’t for a long time. Grace poured over me, and I knew in that moment that Seattle had given me a great gift. The “nones” hold out that same gift to each one of us, if we’re willing to listen, to welcome and to find our common bond. Our similarities are stronger than our differences; we are one.

This column originally appeared in the Dec. 31, 2019, issue of Catholic New York.

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GPS: Once we dropped the girls off at grandma’s house, we headed to the Marriott at 49th and Lex, where we scored an amazing 30th-floor room with a slim view (see photo above) for only $3 thanks to Dennis’ reward points. Great room, great location. From there we took the train down to Greenwich Village, one of our favorite haunts from our dating days. We shopped, strolled through Washington Park, had cocktails (a Manhattan and a French 75) at the Malt House, and wandered into St. Anthony of Padua Church on Houston and Sullivan streets just as the choir was warming up for the Easter Vigil. Then we headed to Villa Mosconi, our all-time favorite Village restaurant, for an amazing dinner, which brings us to our next section of this post…

Menu: You know the food is good when I forget to take photos. We had an appetizer of carciofi (artichokes) that was out of this world, followed by zuppa di pesce (Dennis) and fettucini verdi alla bolognese (me), all washed down with a carafe of Chianti. If you get the chance, go to this wonderful spot on MacDougal Street, where the pasta is all homemade and everything is about as authentic as it can get this side of the ocean. Here’s the zuppa di pesce:

Viewfinder: Some other shots from our weekend…

A window of St. Anthony’s shipwreck off the coast of Sicily, from St. Anthony of Padua Church in Soho:

My steampunk bracelet, a gift from Dennis from one of my favorite Village shopping spots. (I also scored two dresses — only $10 each — at the same market and a beautiful red leather bag from another Village shop.) “Sculpture on your wrist,” that’s how the salesman/artisan described the bracelet below, which caught my eye as soon as I walked into his stall of goodies. The warped antique watch face is supposed to be reminiscent of Dali’s “The Persistence of Memory,” with its melting clocks. The blue piece is for the earth, and the middle piece with the gear in between is the moon, or so he said. True or not, I loved the story and the bracelet.

Dining at Villa Mosconi:

On Easter morning, we grabbed delicious New York bagels at Zucker’s Bagels & Smoked Fish before heading to St. Patrick’s Cathedral for Mass with Cardinal Dolan. Although the altar is still covered in scaffolding, you can see in the photo how beautiful the restored portions of the cathedral look. It’s breathtaking, as is the exterior.

We capped off our morning, before heading to Dennis’ mom’s apartment for Easter dinner, with a double cappuccino. Check out that foamy artwork:

Soundtrack: So many songs could fit this past weekend, from Handel’s Messiah, which the choir was singing as we recessed out of St. Patrick’s Cathedral, to John Lennon’s Imagine, which a street artist was performing on the subway platform as we waited for the E train. But this is what popped into my head just now when I tried to sum up this weekend with a song, only we took a Chrysler minivan rather than a Greyhound bus down that Hudson River line.

https://youtu.be/UFlsXgw_SFE

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Overall, this past week has brought with it very strong feelings of gratitude. As I knelt in church last night, I had an overwhelming sense of joy for the many blessings I’ve received lately — Noah’s restored health, the kids’ safe return from their school trip, Noah’s many college options, my own busy work schedule, the chance to see some old friends.

I hope you have a blessed and grace-filled Holy Week. Here’s the Manic Monday run down…

Bookshelf: I’m working my way through At Least You’re in Tuscany: A Somewhat Disastrous Quest for the Sweet Life by Jennifer Criswell. As my faithful NSS readers already know, I love anything that has to do with Italy. I like this book, although I don’t love it. Yet. Maybe I’ll feel differently by the end. It’s not bad, but when I read a book about Italy I want to be transported. I want to smell the food and feel the cobblestones underfoot. Yes, I ask a lot of my books about Italy.

Menu: It’s been an unusual week of eating for us with both big kids away for five days. Lots of easy-to-make treats. Like this antipasto: 

GPS: Although I’ve been close to home, my kids are traveling far and wide. Noah and Olivia spent the past five days or so in Williamsburg, Va., with the Bethlehem Lab School. Despite rain every single day, they had a great time. Noah departs for a 10-day trip to Italy on Good Friday. I’m reading the detailed itinerary this morning and just cannot believe I don’t get to go. I am so jealous. He’ll hit spots I’ve never seen — Verona, Venice, Padua, Pisa — as well as places I have — Florence, Assisi, Rome, Naples, Sorrento, Capri. Eighty teenagers and 19 chaperones. Imagine moving that group through 10 cities in 10 days?!? Please say a prayer for their safety.

Datebook: Last night Noah decided on Le Moyne College out of the many wonderful options he had. So, come fall, he’ll be headed to Syracuse to major in biology. He picked it specifically because it is not only Catholic but Jesuit, which makes perfect sense for my science-minded faith-filled boy. I am so proud of him.

Viewfinder: A few visual highlights from the past week….

Noah and Olivia in Williamsburg, Va.

My sweetie found Chianti from the winery we visited when we were in Siena this fall — Coltibuono.

A touch of spring despite cold, wintery weather. Thank you, Paula!

A reunion of colleagues from Catholic New York during Dennis’ baseball draft.

Soundtrack: Here’s a new song Dennis downloaded for me. Funny thing is, I had snapped a photo of the artist/title of this song when it was on SiriusXM recently because I planned to download it for him. Kismet. It’s called “Made for You” by Alexander Cardinale. Enjoy.

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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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