My Personal "Via Crucis” - Lessons from Ordinary Events

Bosnia is such an interesting country to visit. With its blend of recent and ancient history, mixture of cultures, and stunning natural beauty, it is a place with welcoming people and nice food.

We had envisioned a varied tour to grasp all we could about the culture of this country, and part of it was to visit "Our Lady of Medjugorje,” a site not recognized by the Vatican where the Virgin Mary supposedly appeared to some children.

I am not particularly interested in religious trips, but my companion was, so I was willing to make the best of it.

In 40-degree heat, we found out that the supposed place, where they keep a marble image of the Virgin Mary, was somewhat up in the mountains. There was a kind of “Via Crucis" to get there, populated with portraits of what seemed to me to be the history of the apparition. Nowhere was it explained how many meters we should climb or how difficult it could be. We only knew it was hot as hell and that only by climbing the mountain would we be able to see the Virgin and pray.

I was there, wasn’t I? So, regardless of my beliefs, I decided to take the road and seize this moment to pray for some beloved ones who are struggling with health issues right now.

Step by step, I started the journey, proud of my goodwill. After 15 minutes under an excruciating sun, climbing a rocky mountain, with no sign whatsoever if I was getting closer or not, my pride turned into rage. Instead of continuing to pray, I was cursing myself, questioning why I was doing this if even the person who was interested in the first place hadn’t joined due to the hot weather.

Then I felt ashamed for being selfish and only thinking about my well-being, not the others I was praying for. Then, I replaced this guilty feeling with self-hatred, pointing out to myself my stubbornness in not recognizing it was too hard for me and giving up. The more I climbed, the louder this discussion in my head became.

To make things worse, I came across some people descending, and by their faces, it didn’t seem the trip was worthwhile. They were mostly sunburnt, exhausted, serious faces, not enlightened ones as I was expecting on a religious tour.

I asked them whether it was far away, and I regretted having done so. Through their reactions, I noticed I wasn’t even in the middle.

And then the learning happened: If I was about to reach the middle and at least, I had a purpose for doing this, which was praying for beloved ones, I would be able to go the other half. Two aspects here were crucial for the success of the mission (Yes, I succeeded in getting there): first, instead of looking up and realizing how far I was, I focused on my step-by-step progress, looking at my surroundings, seeing where I was stepping. Sometimes, I even looked back to see how far I had already gone.

The second thing was, every time I was about to give up, I remembered the purpose. I imagined myself there, up on the hill, finally praying to the Virgin. With this strategy, I could bear the trip more easily, and it even became more interesting.

Recognizing what you have already achieved, focusing on the little steps, and having a purpose—not only a goal, but a purpose that resonates with you—are valuable fuels to set up any venture in our lives.

I wish you all challenging, yet interesting and purposeful journeys.