by Brett Manero
I have done a lot of driving this summer, so much so that I have little desire to get into a car and start the engine. I drove from Denver to Wisconsin (article about our visit to Our Lady of Champion is coming soon!), and from there to Connecticut. Less than two weeks later, I made the return trip from Connecticut to Denver by myself. In the past few days, I have driven across nearly the entire country of France all alone – from Paris to Lourdes, and two days later from Lourdes to Bayeux, Normandy. More on the trip to Lourdes is coming soon!
As an introvert, driving alone for up to eight hours a day can seem like the dream. You’re alone with all of the time in the world to think, pray, and enjoy the scenery. This may be so for the first hour and indeed, the final hour, because you’re almost there at that point. But the middle part is the most dreadful: hours and hours of driving alone through so much seemingly empty land, wondering how anyone could possibly believe that the world is “overpopulated.” Don’t get me wrong – there is lots of beautiful scenery and interesting things to see, such as the tomb of Abraham Lincoln (article about that coming soon), and Marian apparitions sites (Champion and Lourdes). But it’s the monotonous grind of the drive, that middle part of the journey, that gets one down. Even as an introvert, it becomes a bit too much. Driving across the United States (or France) is an adventure for sure, but for the melancholic, it’s all the more challenging.
Yesterday, while driving from Lourdes to Bayeux, part of me wanted to just turn back. And turn back to where? Lourdes? I had already visited it and while I loved it, there was little point to going back. I have to be back in northern France anyway if I’m going to fly out of Paris, so returning south is pointless. Part of me just wanted to find an airport and immediately get a ticket back to America. But why? I was so excited to travel to France this summer. That silent voice – the voice of Lord – comes to me in that moment: just keep going. This is a metaphor of life. Life is long, sometimes boring, but it’s worth living. The beginning and the end of life can seem so exciting: the sheer joy and innocence of childhood, and for the person of faith, the relief towards life’s end that heaven awaits. The middle part with all of its trials and challenges, hard work and headaches, is maybe the most difficult. It can seem overwhelming and pointless. But it’s worth it. Better times and a much better destination will arrive, even if it seems years (or in the case of a long road trip, hours) away. Just keep going. Hang in there. Persevere. Perhaps it’s an image of purgatory too: it can be long and painful, but the great guarantee of it is that it will end, and salvation will come.
And indeed, after some terrible traffic, a wrong turn, and roughly eight hours of monotonous driving across the French Republic, I made it to Bayeux. I was amazed by the natural beauty of Normandy, with its green fields that remind one of Ireland. I loved the charming medieval town of Bayeux, and I’m off the Utah Beach soon – the first beach of the D-Day invasion that I came to visit.
Hang in there. Persevere. Better times are ahead.
“Blessed is the man who endures trial, for when he has stood the test he will receive the crown of life which God has promised to those who love him (James 1:12).“