Breathe In The Beauty

One of the most enjoyable two-week stretches of my life was when I was able to take a small group (including my parents) to Ireland. With family names like Bachmeier and Tuchscherer, we’ve never been mistaken for being Irish by birth. There are a lot of things about Irish culture, however, that make it attractive and give many a longing for a share in the Irish heritage. Our tour guide for the two weeks in Ireland was a very funny and quite happy man by the name of Patrick Buckley. Patrick laughed easily and was a joy to have along as we toured the land of his birth. Near the end of the trip, when I told him that Ireland was so green that it was all starting to look the same to me, he said, “But Father, breathe in the beauty. Breathe it in.” I had a strong recollection of that phrase today when the first eight miles of the journey were made up of an uninterrupted, long piece of Highway 101. The trees and shrubs were all looking the same; there were no rises and no falls, no curves to the right, nor to the left. What made it more monotonous was that I could see so far down the road that I knew it wasn’t going to change for, well, eight miles. All of a sudden, I heard that Irish brogue in the back of my head, “Breathe in the beauty.” I’ve offered the same advice to others over the years, but it was advice that I both needed and gladly received today. It won’t help to mention the beauty that I breathed in, just trust me that everything changed in appearance, no matter how boring it had previously seemed. I was grateful. God is, indeed, good, all the time.

Emerging Out of the 8-mile Stretch

Breathe In the Beauty

Breathe it In

It has been good to share the few occasions when people have overtly said, “God bless you” to me during the past three or so weeks. People who were previously complete strangers have wished that blessing on me, sometimes without even knowing much about the underlying theme of support for 1^st Way that has been at the heart of this. Far more often, people have said, “Good luck.” Just like at home, there have been occasions when I’ve answered, “I don’t believe in luck, but thanks anyway.” If they ever look like they are curious enough to hear more, I say, “I believe in grace, God’s grace, not luck.” I know that makes me sound like a smart aleck, but it’s still true.

First View of the Rogue River Bridge

Entry Into Gold Beach

Atop the Rogue River Bridge

One of my Mother’s nine siblings, Anne Marie Weiler, has always been respected by my generation of the family as a deeply spiritual woman. The whole Tuchscherer clan is well respected, but Annie, as we call her, has always had a special spark when it comes to her relationship with God and God’s created beauty. When our Mother died, nearly ten years ago, Annie told me to be on the watch for birds that may remind me of the spirit of my Mom. My first thought was, “She’s been reading too much Native American spirituality lately . . . that’s kind of weird.” But, lo and behold, I cannot drive up or down Interstate 5 anymore without seeing a Red-tailed Hawk alongside the road. As a sort of homage to Annie, I always pray a Hail Mary for my Mom and a Glory Be for her when I see the Hawks. There are some times of the year, when the Hawks are plentiful, when I could just as easily get the Rosary beads out, because I’m going to end up praying just about the whole thing anyway! It might come as no surprise that I’ve been reminded of this along the way for 25 days now. The Eagle in Arch Cape, the Heron in Wheeler, the Hawk near Beaver, the Gulls in, well, pick a place, the Turkey Vultures at Waldport, the Stellar’s Jay yesterday south of Port Orford . . . . This morning, when Bruce and I ventured out of the St. Charles rectory here in Gold Beach, there were two doves on the power lines over the parking lot. What a beautiful sound it was as they sang to each other! All of these birds have been a reminder to me to be grateful, to pray in a spirit of gratitude. I no longer think that Annie’s notion that such creatures can remind us of the ones we love is so nutty. The Holy Spirit of God, after all, descended upon Jesus at His baptism in the appearance of a dove. “Come, Holy Spirit, enkindle in us the fire of your love.”

The Kissing Rock (Gold Beach)

Climb to Cape Sebastian

(Endurance Test at the End of a

Fourteen-mile Day!)

Thought for the day: If walking clears the mind, I’m not signing up for an I.Q. test anytime soon!

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A new contest is now underway: please help me decide what to do as I reach the Oregon-California Border this week. I’ve been told that there are now only thirty miles or so between where I ended today (80 Acres Road, south of Gold Beach) and the border itself. So, Tuesday, at the latest, will be the day I pass through Brookings and make the final part of the journey. Should I flash the Oregon “O”? Make a peace sign? Kiss the ground? Throw my shoes in the ocean? Keep going to San Diego? Help me, please. Send me an email, call me, text me, or leave a comment here. Time is short. Creativity will be rewarded!

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1^st Way: please Google 1^st Way or go back to previous posts to find the link. We haven’t set up a quick and easy “Donate” button on their website, but all the contact information you need is there (phone, address, etc.). Any contribution will be gratefully received. If you are in Eugene, drop by their office and ask if there are any practical ways you can help them. As I suggested to the parishioners at the Church of St. Mary, making a per mile pledge would be a great gesture of support; that number will likely be in the low 340’s, so even a dime per mile wouldn’t break the bank! Thank you and good luck God’s blessing be upon you!

Sunset at the Pioneer Cemetery (Gold Beach)