So, Tell Me About Crossroads…

“So, Molly, how was Crossroads?”

I don’t think I’ll ever be able to adequately answer this question. This blog was an attempt. But even documenting a few anecdotes and analyzing a few sweet and bitter moments could not summarize an entire summer of incredible experiences.

Let’s face it, I couldn’t even keep up with the blog the last few weeks out of sheer exhaustion. Illinois, Indiana, Ohio, Pennsylvania, West Virginia, Virginia and Maryland went by so quickly.

Still, I will try to tell you what it was like.

Our lovely host family from Columbus, Ohio

Each day of that last month  , I just looked forward to the end of walking. My eyes were on the prize of walking to DC. And walk we did. It’s 2,438 miles from San Francisco to Washington D.C., and by our calculations we walked over 2,500 miles over the course of our route. What an amazing adventure!

This summer, I learned to be flexible. Things could change in an instant. Every preconception I had about Crossroads flew out the door. Our van tires fell flat from nail holes twice. One day we locked our keys in the car. Daily Mass was not always available. I slept on table-beds, couches, floors, sleeping bags, and host family’s beds. We ran. Yeah. I, the girl who did not train before Crossroads, ran. One day, for fun, we ran 81 miles as a relay – about 10 miles per person! It was kind of a big deal.

I also got interviewed. And interviewed again. That was not something I was expecting!

And then our RV died. So for eight weeks, we lived off of fast food and made ourselves at home in sketchy motels (across from a prison, haunted, druggie neighbors, blood on the walls, you name it).

Yet people were constantly looking out for us. Strangers stopped to give us cool drinks and snacks. Police officers came to check on our van many times. Once, on a bitterly cold day, two officers stopped thinking I was homeless and offered me a ride.

Soon though, the running joke became that “Molly knows everybody.” At every major stop, I would run into folks I knew or had connections with (priests, radio hosts, pro-life leaders, family friends, friends of friends, a religious sister who teaches at my parish school, a religious sister who attends my college, my future RD, on and on). In the picture, I met a friend from college when I spoke at her home parish. My teammates started betting on how many people I would know at the next stop!

And through it all, there were new experiences. I tried chewing tobacco (ew), year old applesauce (fine), a salt flat (not terrible), and the Great Salt Lake (UGH!). For the first time in my life, I walked through a drive-thru, shot a gun, and drove an RV (and even floored it and went off-roading in it). Our walk leader read us bedtime stories, backed the RV into a pole, and scared me half to death by waking me up from a dead sleep by slamming on the window of the van yelling. But I got back at him by flat-tiring his shoe.

I witnessed the majesty of the great outdoors, and all the creatures that call it home: wild horses, antelope, coyotes, beavers, bison, moose, elk, marmots, and even a bear. Throughout the United States, I found solace in beautiful cathedrals, basilicas and churches where the dear One is ever present.

Oh yes. Out on the road, I found God. He is so near to us when we seek Him. Often, the only way to pass the time was through prayer. It was a constant conversation that grew sweeter and stronger the more I cultivated it. I wanted to draw closer and closer to His Heart. And is not that our end – to grow in love?

It was unforgettable. I know now that I will never fully be able to sum it up or express it. But let me tell you: it was worth it.

I, I did it all / I owned every second / That this world could give / I saw so many places / The things that I did / Yeah, with every broken bone / I swear I lived. ~I Lived, One Republic

Praying outside an abortion clinic in Indianapolis, Indiana

We met up with Bryan Kemper and the whole Stand True Missionary team. They were super chill, hosted us for 2 nights, and even walked with us for a few miles.

Our nice tour through Virginia

Crazies

All of the ladies who started in San Fran finished the walk. Proud.

We made it as a team. None of us could have done it without the rest of these amazing people.

We finally met up with Northern and Southern Walks. It’s amazing how you can bond over the mutual suffering and sacrifice of the walks.

And after our selfie war with the other walks, we took one last selfie as a big group. We made it, and that’s what matters.

Do Small Things with Great Love

It seems that every month, every day, every moment of Crossroads brings new challenges, new sacrifices. I went into the summer with the knowledge that I was sacrificing working for the summer. But there are so many little sacrifices that make up our day to day life out here on the road.

Hiking mountains, trekking through the heat, homesickness, real sickness, blisters, shin splints, little sleep, early mornings, late nights, little variety in food…they each hold a small suffering that He can use for souls. Lately, I’ve been noticing the monotony more. The same lengths of corn fields, the same rumble strips and white highway lines, the same fwap-fwap-fwap of my feet on the pavement. But offering this up to God is such a grace, since I would love to complain otherwise. 😀

Some days we offer up the pain of powering through to get many miles. Others, we offer up the frustration and disappointment of not getting very far. Some days, we offer up rising at ungodly hours to head to Mass, and over a two week stretch in the desert, we offered not having a daily Mass to attend.

For Central Walk, we have been without our RV for over a month. The engine needed to be replaced, and it’s still back in Utah while we’re in Illinois. Without the RV, we are essentially homeless. We don’t know where we will stay the night until that same evening – usually a motel.

Fast food is standard since we have no kitchen to cook, and between shifts, we hang out in libraries or bookstores for a temporary refuge from the heat (with books and wifi of course). We’re blessed to have food, showers, beds, and shelter. But being homeless, living out of very packed cars, and eating out so much is its own sacrifice.

And I think that that is the point. When God called us to give up our summers, it wasn’t a half-way calling. We have received so many blessings along the way, including exceptional weather. But it’s not meant to be sunshine and roses. It’s meant to hurt.

In some ways, it’s easier to make a large sacrifice than a simple one. We all want to offer everything to God, but everything is summed up in the small ways. “We can do no great things, only small things with great love.” ~Blessed Mother Teresa

Our country has suffered the scourge of abortion for so long. And while many of our sufferings are very small in scope, we are blessed by them. If we are living in accord with God’s will, it’s not the size of the sacrifice that matters, but the gift our hearts make in offering them to God.

Making an Impact

When I first started walking, even when I applied for Crossroads, I had no clue what kind of impact we would have.

When I’ve walked precincts or done phone banking for pro-life political campaigns, lobbied or set up educational events, I’ve always had a vision for their effect. But with Crossroads, I only could envision the walking. Consequently, I expected to be a billboard and have lots of conversations with pro-choice folks.

Nope. I’ve only spoken with a couple pro-choice people. The heckling has been quite minimal. A few one finger salutes, a few nasty comments, a few yells.

Rather, our presence draws confused stares, puzzled looks, and wide eyes. At Wal-Mart, the grocery store, small shops, gas stations, burger joints and RV parks, people gape as we explain, “Oh yeah we’re walking across the country.” In one antique shop, the clerk’s eyes grew big as she asked, “Why on earth are you doing that?”

But then, this turns to admiration. For us, it’s not that amazing. We’re just walking. We believe in this mission with our whole hearts, but to walk does not take that much effort. But for those people, it brings hope.

I can’t tell you how many people see our shirts and say, “Pro-life? Me too! I admire what you guys are doing!” After Masses, so many people come up to us and say, “Thank you so much for what you’re doing! It’s so inspiring!”

They are inspired…by our feet moving. That’s it. That’s all we’re doing: moving one foot after the other. But that brings them hope. To us, it’s a small sacrifice. But to these wonderful people, it means the pro-life movement exists! They aren’t alone. If we’re willing to walk, and we’re from all over the country, there must be many more willing to stand up for the unborn, for the elderly, for human dignity.

The most wonderful part is when parishioners tell me, “I pray outside the abortion clinic,” or “I pray with 40 Days for Life every year.” Some even have said, “Our parish got an abortion clinic to close after we prayed there.” Their faithfulness to the cause is astounding.

We are a witness. But not in the way I expected. Crossroads reaches those in the trenches and those on the other side, but most importantly, we reach the apathetic majority, the people who are pro-life in name only. These are the folks we need to build a Culture of Life.

People Are Amazing

My favorite part of Crossroads is the people we meet. People are so incredible if we just take the time to listen and understand.

Some of the people we encounter are curious or have questions about the pro-life position. The very first weekend, a couple guys sitting next to us at a table at In ‘N Out asked us what we were doing and why. Then, one of them asked, “I’m sure you guys get asked this a lot, but what about in cases of rape?”

Our walk director explained that abortion in cases of rape is only 1% of all abortions, and so that does not justify abortion. I added that rape is such a hard situation, and the woman deserves every support and care we can give. But we don’t give the death penalty to rapists, and so even in such a hard situation, we cannot take a life. They just listened and absorbed, and thanked us for talking to them when they left. Praise God for their openness.

Other people open up to us in ways I could never have imagined. It’s always a privilege to listen to folks’ stories. It’s amazing how vulnerable a stranger can be with another stranger.

That first weekend, a young dad in his thirties came up to me after Mass, his two little girls in tow. He told me, “I used to be on the fence, but when I saw her ultrasound…” pointing at his older daughter, “I said, ‘That’s her! That’s Nina!’ Now I make videos for 40 Days for Life.” How beautiful that the tiny moment of seeing his preborn daughter could change his mind.

In Jackson, California, a gas station clerk told us her mother had been raped, and became pregnant, and she was the child. She thanked us for our witness, and asked us to pray for her daughter who was pregnant now with her grandchild. What a remarkable testament to the beauty of life, even after tragedy.

When we were in Reno, I got in a conversation with a very sweet, very mature thirteen-year-old girl. She told me, “It’s so cool that you guys are so happy and have fun! Normally, people like you are so serious.” Yes! We can be joyful and excited and happy because our message is great!

In Rocky Mountain National Park, Colorado, I met a lady in the bathroom. I answered her questions about our mission, and just as I was about to leave, she stated, “You know, I had a son before I was married. I placed him for adoption, and we’ve been reunited for 18 years now. You’d never know he wasn’t raised with my four other children – they’re all great friends. I just don’t understand how someone can take a life.” I gave her a hug. Talk about a testimony.

This one girl in Vernal, Utah, however, completely stole my heart. We attended daily Mass there three days in a row because it was the only church for hundreds of miles. This little ten-year-old was there helping her mother take care of her three younger brothers. The second day, she came up to me timidly and asked, “Excuse me, but, what is pro-life?” She added, “I wanted to ask yesterday, but I was too scared.”

Oh, she was so precious. I explained to her we were walking for the unborn, the elderly, and to share the beauty of all human life. She said, “Oh, yes! Because the unborn are special…and just because they’re different doesn’t mean they’re not human.” My heart melted. What a sweetheart.

I’m so blessed to be able to listen to so many beautiful people, to talk to people about pro-life apologetics, and to share with them the message of the dignity and sanctity of human life.

The Girls Who Stole My Heart

For me, the highlight of mission was meeting the girls at the Missionaries of Charity home.

Me (left) with the girls ❤

We drove 1 hour from Managua, the capital where we were staying, to Grenada, a quaint, old town, where the Missionaries of Charity run a home for girls. That first day, we decorated their rooms while they were at school with posters saying, “We love you,” “God loves you,” “Jesus, I trust in you,” “You are beautiful,” and similar phrases. When the girls returned from school, we got to meet them, eat lunch with them, help them with their homework, and then play games with them.

One girl who originally was very reluctant to do her English homework brightened up when I offered to help her. Another girl with large, sad eyes was struggling through Catechism. I sat down to help her, and she slowly began to enjoy her tedious studies. She even began to smile! Over the next couple of days, I really saw her come out of her shell.

During the games time, there was one game where the girls had to take a few M&M’s. After they took a bunch, we told them they were for explaining one fact about them to their small group. One 12-year-old girl in my group with a vibrant, larger-than-life personality had taken a humongous pile. When her turn to list facts came, she cried, “Oh no! How will I list them all?” But she was soaking up all the attention she could get, and drew out each one so she could stay in the spotlight a few moments longer. Oh, she was such a gem.

The second day we were heading to the Missionaries of Charity home, we had to stop at a few stores. There were more girls than we anticipated, and we did not have enough gifts for each of them. Of course, it was 8am, and the mall doesn’t open until 10am. But we stopped in the shopping plaza, hoping that maybe something would be open. The place was empty, and all the stores were closed. Well, all but one. It was the one we needed to purchase supplies to make more crowns for the added girls. The shopowners told us, “We don’t open until 9:30, but the door is open so you can buy what you need.” Wow. But, we still needed gift boxes and mirrors at a different store. Right as one of our missionaries walked up to the store, the owner was unlocking the door (that store doesn’t normally open until 10am either!). Double wow. God really blessed us.

At the Missionaries of Charity home, when the girls returned from school at lunchtime, we ate with them, and helped with homework (they were far more excited about showing us their work now).

Then, we held a mini-retreat for them. Our team of missionaries gathered the girls into the chapel, and a sister exposed the Blessed Sacrament in the monstrance. Several of our missionaries led the girls in praise songs, times of quiet prayer and journaling, and talks on the love of our Heavenly Father. One of the guys in our group read the Father’s Love Letter.

A princess with a crown and rose

Another of our missionaries read the story of the woman with a hemmorhage who touched Jesus’ cloak and was healed. With this story in mind, we then called each girl up individually to kneel before the Lord. The humeral veil was draped from the monstrance to the kneeler, so each girl could touch, as it were, the cloak of Jesus. Then, we would crown each girl, hand her a rose, and tell her that she was a princess, that she belonged to Him, that she was beautiful, wanted, and loved. So many of these girls had never heard these truths before.

The little girls were super excited to be called princesses, and many of the older girls were in tears. Finally, we gave each girl a gift box, holding a mirror. When they peered in, we told them, “Look! You’re the gift!” They giggled, but when the ceremony ended, many of these sweet girls came up to us telling us that this mini-retreat had touched their hearts. They were so grateful, and we were grateful that God had blessed this time with them.

An additional small blessing was the fact that we somehow had leftover boxes, roses, and crowns. Sitting in the back through it all were the paid volunteers who help the sisters care for the girls. Hearing the talks of the Father’s love and watching the transformations take place in the girls left them in tears too! We brought the extra gifts, roses, and crowns to them. It was such a blessing to be able to have them share in the truths that every woman longs to hear: that she is beautiful and loved.

During our last day with the girls, we took them to a leadership camp. The girls got to do meditations on confidence, using words, teamwork, and goal-setting. At lunch, they were so excited to be served by real waiters, and to eat fancy dishes. Throughout the day, our team and the camp workers led the girls in teambuilding activities like swinging their whole team on a rope from one platform to another, rock climbing, and more.

It was incredible to watch these girls go from untrusting to interdependent, from a cluster of individuals to a close-knit team of friends. Before leaving, we sang some songs with them, and left them each a parting gift of candy, rosaries, 33 Days to Morning Glory, and photos of each girl. As the day drew to a close, their counselors told us, “This is what our home needed, but we did not know how to provide it for them.”

But we didn’t do it. It was all God. Only God could make our pre-made plans fit so perfectly.

I do miss these girls. They were so precious, so beautiful. One girl in particular stole my heart. She loved to repeat my name over and over. It was the sweetest thing. They each stole my heart. But that is how it should be. It means I cannot forget. It means I can’t help but pray for them. And that in itself is a gift.