Traveling Spirit

I have a Saint Squad. That’s what I call the five saints to whom I have the greatest devotion (and whose medals I wear around my neck): St. Thomas the Apostle, St. Joseph, St. Thomas Aquinas, St. Thomas More, and St. Christopher. Yes, there are a lot of Thomases there, but that’s a conversation for another day. Today I’m going to focus on St. Christopher. Or maybe my mom. Or maybe a little of both. We’ll see where this goes.
 
One night back in November, Shannon dragged me along to an SLS fundraising meeting. The deal was that if I sat in on the meeting, she would give me a ride back to Lambeth. Halfway through, someone suggested a road trip. To ARIZONA. My family has always been big on road trips. My dad doesn’t like to sit still, so relaxing beach vacations or mountain cabin stays have never really been his thing. Instead, we travel, and he plans our trips meticulously. The goal of each one is always to see as many cool things as possible in as many states as possible. As soon as I heard the words “road trip” come out of someone’s mouth (even though I think it was originally intended as a joke), I was hooked. After basically drawing up the entire route with Craig and Shannon, I turned to Shannon and said, “THIS is why I don’t come to interest meetings: I always end up getting dragged into stuff!”
 
This Christmas was the first I’d spent in Virginia Beach, my hometown, in years. We had spent the previous few Christmases with my dad’s family in Maine, but this year it was just me and my parents at home. My sister was even out of town. All of that, coupled with the fact that I was leaving for Arizona the next day, made for quite a weird Christmas. As I was opening my presents on Christmas morning, all I could think about was what was missing. Then, last of all, I opened the smallest package under the tree. Actually, it wasn’t even under the tree for fear of losing it; it was in my stocking. It was about the size of a quarter and slightly heavy for its size. On the tag, it said, “To: Will, From: Mom”. I tore open the paper and... my jaw dropped. It was a St. Christopher medallion.
 
St. Christopher’s story is awesome. I’m going to give you the shortened version here for brevity’s sake, but the conversion part is really cool too, and I suggest you read it at some point if you’re interested. However, post-conversion St. Christopher had a job helping people cross a dangerous river. One day, a child walked up to him on the riverbank and asked to be taken across, so he put the boy on his shoulders and began to wade across the river. As they went, the child became heavier and heavier. When St. Christopher finally struggled out of the river on the other side, he asked the little boy why he was so heavy. The child revealed to the bewildered man that he was the child Jesus and that St. Christopher had just carried the entire weight of the world’s sins on his shoulders. As a result, he is the patron saint of travelers.
 
Now hold on a second. There’s something really important that you need to know so that you understand the significance of that gift. My mom is not Catholic. Any of you who have ever prayed the rosary with me know the three intentions I always specifically mention those struggling with mental illness, my family, and the conversion of my mom. So it was a huge deal that she gave me a saint medallion.
 
Thus began my devotion to St. Christopher. My mom came across him because of his patronage to travelers. She knew I was going on a long road trip, and she wanted to give me some sort of protection. So I took St. Christopher with me as we set off. Earlier I mentioned that the trip to and from Phoenix was one of the most memorable experiences of my life. Well, it was also great because we had a consistent prayer routine. Every day the six of us started our drive in prayer, said a Divine Mercy Chaplet at 3 pm, said a rosary before we arrived at our destination, and said night prayer before we went to bed. Every time we prayed, we asked for the intercession of St. Christopher. Ever since he’s been a part of my Saint Squad.
 
This conclusion part was the hardest for me to write for some reason. I struggled for a long time trying to decide what my closing message was to be, my call to action if you will. But I just kept reflecting on the fact that all of these things happened because someone joked about a road trip to Phoenix. You never know just how the Holy Spirit will work in your life. As I look back on this story, I realize that the Holy Spirit definitely showed me St. Christopher just when I needed him. So I’ll leave you with this: Keep an eye out for the Holy Spirit’s suggestions and build YOUR Saint Squad.