Darkness Dawning into New Life

In October 2014, I was blessed to be able to take a pilgrimage to Rome and Assisi, the home St. Francis and St. Clare, with a group of strangers-turned-friends from other Franciscan institutions. And I got to share this amazing journey with my beloved mother! As the marketing coordinator for a Franciscan retreat center, it was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to learn about the patron saint of Earth and her creatures. And as a daughter, it was an incredible chance to travel with my mom when I was old enough to really appreciate the gift of time together in a holy place.

There were many highlights to this ten-day pilgrimage, including a seven-course feast in the town of Greccio (where St. Francis created the first Christmas crèche), a day of silence and solitude in Carceri (where St. Francis would retreat for his own spiritual deepening), and mass and Eucharist celebrated at the Porziuncola (a favorite meeting spot for Clare and Francis). And one of the quietest, most unexpected moments also became one of my most memorable …

One morning in Assisi, my mom and I set our alarm, awoke before sunrise and went into the tiny town square for Caffè Americano and pastries. We sat on the cement bench surrounding a fountain and watched the city wake up around us. In the darkness of the early morning, we saw a shopkeeper shaking out her doormat, a baker forming soft loaves of bread, the manager of a small café wiping down chairs on the terrazza. We ran into Mauricio—a local leather-smith who had customized beautiful purses for us the day before—out for an early-morning jog. He greeted us as though we were old friends, kissing us on both cheeks and gushing in broken English over how good it was to see us again.

Even though this morning in Assisi was quiet and dark, this town on the Italian countryside didn’t feel abandoned. It felt expectant. Like an amazing day was about to be born.

In the years since, as I have faced times that seemed dark and lonely, I have remembered that this is not the end. Although I may feel as though I am walking through dark, unfamiliar streets, I am reminded that this is not a time of death or abandonment; it is a time of new life!

As I hear news of immigrant children being separated from their parents, a mass shooting by an angry coworker, a church body turning its back on the LGBTQ community, a hate crime perpetrated against people simply because their skin is not white, it is hard not to feel alone and abandoned. But I remember the tiny town of Assisi one October morning before sunrise, and I know that something amazing is waiting to be birthed.

—Andi Lewis, Prairiewoods marketing coordinator

Posted March 5, 2019