Holy Faith

The providential nature of my destination did not strike me until just a few moments ago as I stood on the balcony gazing at the constellation Orion as he hung over the city of Santa Fe. Santa Fe. Holy Faith. One of the oldest installations of Catholicism in the United States. 

When I first suggested to my parents that we should take a trip to Santa Fe, the idea bore no particular religious significance to me. I wanted to see the city and its environs, and I wanted to take a trip with my parents. For a variety of reasons, my dad was unable to come and so I am sitting here now in a cheaply rented apartment with my mother, delightfully full of Mexican cuisine, and so deeply grateful at the prospect of several days off with no interruptions from the infirmed and dying, the hard-up, or those burdened by the woes of life. I love each of these groups of people as best I can, but truth be told, the best I can has been somewhat mediocre of late. I'm tired. Frightfully tired. My spiritual batterieas are nearly out of juice, and without a pause to recharge, I could easily become an obstacle to Christ. So, here I am in Santa Fe, ready to renew my own holy faith. 

I've been on the road two days getting here. Roads were mostly good for the drive, and Mom and I have found little to fight about. We shared a motel room in Stirling, Colorado last night and both managed to sleep. We transgressed the mountains at Raton Pass around noon today, and, after a brief stop at the ruins of Fort Union (the history of which involves the War with Mexico, the Civil War, Kit Carson, and the Santa Fe Trail), we got into Santa Fe around 4:00. It was a beautiful drive that became progressively warmer the further south we went, and there is blissfully little snow to be seen around here. Tomorrow we will meet a family friend whom we only discovered today works in a museum here. We will eventually see the miraculous staircase. Perhaps we will drive up to the Pecos State Park.  Perhaps we will just sit in the sun if it gets warm enough. In either case, I am anxious to rest, to pray, and to learn about things only tangentially related to the Church. I will try to keep you posted here.

Raton Pass

Hospital Ruins at Ft. Union

Bricks from which the original fort was constructed. 

Calvary bits. 

Calvary branding iron

View from the balcony. 

My living room for the next few days.