Connection

Arriving in Greece was not the panacea I had expected. I came tired and worn after an intense season at church, and the many wrinkles in our pilgrimage program had left me feeling ragged. (Did I mention that the itinerary had to change at the last minute because our four-night cruise got canceled?) By the time I arrived, I had very little left. I spent my first day simply sitting in a taverna drinking coffee, letting myself be still. Then I went to be early. The next morning, after sleeping in, I hurried to meet two dear friends who were spending two days with me in Athens before we all headed to Istanbul for the first phase of the pilgrimage.

Seeing Michael and Barbara was like taking a deep draught of spring water after a long thirst. We have been friends for decades, ever since meeting at First Pres Berkeley—before I became a mother, before seminary, and before ordination. In other words, they have known me through many seasons of my life. Because of my move to Cincinnati nearly a decade ago, I had not seen them for a few years.

To see them again, to hug them, to simply be in their presence, was pure joy. It felt as though no time or distance had separated us at all as we caught up on our children and grandchildren and, of course, our faith journeys. The sites we visited in Athens almost faded into the background beside the grace of being together again and renewing our love for one another.

As our second evening wound down, photos of the rest of our pilgrims began to appear on WhatsApp. Documenting flights about to take off and arrivals in Istanbul, each picture reflected the nearness of this gathering with those who would soon join the pilgrimage. I cannot begin to describe the excitement I felt. I know nearly all of these pilgrims, who come from all over the country. Some are from churches I have served; others are dear friends gathered along the way. The affection and love I feel for each of them is immeasurable.

My heart felt as though it might burst with joy. These beloved people would soon meet one another. People I never expected to see in the same room would now be traveling together on a sacred and transformative journey.

What a gift. Before the pilgrimage had fully begun, grace had already arrived in the form of connection—old friends, beloved companions, and the mysterious joy of lives converging in one holy moment.

I had come to Greece weary, carrying more strain than wonder, hoping that perhaps a change of place might be enough to restore me. But
renewal did not come first through the beauty of the landscape, the weight of history, or even the promise of sacred sites. It came through people. It came through embrace and conversation, through shared memory and abiding affection, through the quiet miracle of being known across time and distance and loved still. It is no surprise that God so often meets us not only in solitude or sanctuary, but in friendship, in community, and in the bonds that endure across years and miles.

As our pilgrimage is about to begin, I am reminded that connection itself is sacred ground. These friendships, old and new, are not incidental to the journey; they are part of the journey. They are a living testimony to the ways grace gathers us, sustains us, and sometimes even carries us when we have no strength of our own.

And so, before we ever set foot on the ancient paths ahead of us, something holy is already unfolding among us. We are being knit together—by affection, by memory, by hope, and by the God who delights in bringing people together at just the right moment. What lies ahead will surely shape us. But already, in this first gathering of hearts, I sense that the pilgrimage has begun.