All it took was seeing one post - and I headed down memory lane

 

These are pictures from an afternoon visit to the Eremo di San Bartolomeo in Legio (The Hermitage of San Bartolomeo in Legio) a place I dream of returning and brining my beloved to share the experience with me.

The afternoon we visited in 1998 my heart was heavy with grief from the loss of my mother, my best friend who went to glory less than a year before.

Grief that was hard to work through because I was also dealing withe reality of a difficult and dangerous situation at home.  Being in Italy with my family was a brief respite from the situation I was dealing with at home.  I don't mean to be cryptic, that is a story in itself for another day. i traveled from Boston to Rome and my dad, my two sisters, each with one of their daughters and my sister-in-love and her and my brothers son all few in from Texas.  We were going to visit our family in Italy and to make a family pilgrimage in honor of my mother who recently passed to her and our family's patron Saint San Gabriel of the Sorrowful Mother.   

I was so grateful to be with my dad and family and to once again see my aunts and uncles, first cousins and family in Italy.  And being surrounded by our beautiful family in Italy after losing our mom was just what we all needed, to be where she lived most of her life, got married and had three children when she and my dad and siblings came to the United States in 1956.  And I had promised my mother before she died that I would make the pilgrimage to the Gran Sasso Mountains and to the Sanctuary of San Gabrielle in her honor because she knew she was never going to make it there on this side of heaven. And it was someplace she talked about often and wanted to take me there.  And we did that and so many other things with our cousins and family during our almost three week visit.

It was nearing the end of our visit and we were back in Cegagatti where in 4 days we would be heading home.  Once night after dinner my sweet Zia Bambina, cousin Gabriele, his beautiful wife Carmelina and their three children brought me, my sister Irma and my nephew Mark on a little excursion to the mountaintop hermitage of San Bartolomeo in Roccamorice a few towns from where they lived.

It was an experience I will never forget and its etched so clearly into my heart. This profound and deeply spiritual experience along with several others during this trip to visit our familia mixed with the grief I was feeling over the loss of my mother and the turmoil going on in my life at home was the beginning of my journey back to the Father.  And it awakened in me a desire for a relationship with Jesus that I didn't even know I had and that I never fully understood until I lived my Cursillo three years later.  

It was a beautiful walk through the intense yellow carpet of ginestra-covered slopes (Scotch  broom  - ginestra dei cabona) to get to the hermitage. A wooden rail to our right keep us from getting to close to the edge of the cliff and a few precarious and tight passages down well worn mountain made steps and trails.

This was a surprise, after dinner we might make take a little walk around the vast land my uncle and cousin had, walk down to where there road leads to other homes and farms, and then retreat back to the house where we would sit outside under a blanket of stars, drinking wine, listening to music, singing, dancing and telling stories.  So when my cousin asked who wanted to go for a ride and walk in the mountains, Irma, Mark and I were excited to go on a little excursion. 

And I am so grateful I did, because that little excursion touched my heart in ways I could never have imagined. 

That night back at my Zio's house in Cegagatti I stayed up late after everyone went to bed.  Sitting outside under the blanket of stars shining brightly over the beautiful country side I journaled about the day, all that was flooding my heart, the grace, gratitude, thankfulness and so much peace, a peace I hadn't felt in a long time and before I knew it I was writing a little poem.  I called it "Little Sweater" or as I was thinking in Italian, La Maieletta, but that does not mean little sweater in Italian.  I guess I was thinking of the Maiella mountain and I adding the -ella to the end which can be a diminutive in Italian for "little"  But there is no such word.  

Why Maiella, because most of my experiences about Italy I learned from my parents who were born and raised in the eastern foothills of the Maiella Mountain and my experiences in Italy and many on this trip are in the Abruzzo area where my family is from and in particular the provinces of Chieti, Teremo, Pescara, where most of of them live is surrounded by the Apennine Mountains and the Maiella National Park.

The Eremo or hermitage di San Bartolomeo in Legio is in Roccamorice and was built in 1250 by Pierto da Morrone who later became Pope Celestine V and is situated over 700 meters above sea level on a rocky cliffside in the Valle di Santo Spirito. The hermitage is accessible by hiking trails from the hamlet of Decontra but we drove from Cepagatti to Roccamorice through rolling farmlands and vinyards, entering into a narrow valley and then up a steep climb into rocky mountain terrain where the landscape suddenly shifts into the Maiella foothills.  We parked along the side of the road and walked through ginestra-covered slopes and along a rocky and cross ridden path to get to the hermitage.

After we walked around exploring the hermitage and the little chapel inside everyone walked down the rock steps. i stayed in the crevice of the rocks and stood there for the longest time looking out ant the mountains in the distance, the gorge below and the beauty that surrounded me.  And as the sun was just beginning to set I felt in that moment that I could reach out and touch the face of God.  I could feel my mother's presence, I knew that she was safe in the arms of the Lord with no more earthly pain.  I found peace in her passing and I actually outstretched my hand because there in that moment I felt like I could touch the face of God. And in that moment I believed that I did. And I believe that He touched my heart in a way only He could.  I know without a doubt that He has brought me through many many  seasons to the season I am in now, one of great gratitude, blessing and trust of how fully I am in His hand.

And since that day I have considered San Bartolomeo a dear friend alongside my beloved San Gabriel.  

All of my aunts and uncles have gone to glory now with my parents. It is now us, the generation of the first cousins and we have so many cousins and family in Italy that like our branch of the family tree, the only one of my fathers side of the family and only two branches of my mothers side of the family tree in the US continues to grow.  

One day if it is God's will and I am in a healthier season, I will bring my beloved John here, we will visit my cousins and family.  While he has met a couple of my cousins who came to the US he has yet to meet the whole family and I can't wait for that day and to bring my beloved  to Abruzzo to not just meet the family but to bring him on a pilgrimage and share with him this beautiful hermitage and very many other places in the Abruzzo that I love and that always feels like home to me. 

I would love to be able to attach the reel that started this trip down to memory lane for me this week, but I don't think I can attach the reel.  But I might be able to attach a link and you can take your own sneak peak at the beauty of Abruzzo and of this memorable hermitage and so much more from this great page on hiking and trekking in Abruzzo.

https://majexperience.it/