When humans go on these unique excursions with high hopes of meeting amazing people and having such magnificent support from different individuals, it looks astounding on paper. The reality though, was different.
My goal was to raise awareness for the homeless, lonely, and suffering. My first day I wanted to quit, to be quite honest. Being a family man myself, I felt like I had experienced a sense of loneliness. However, day 1? Please... let's not quit that early. Let's go one more day.
When I was leaving home I was greeted by many of my amazing and best friends. My family was there to support me as well as The Starkweathers and church friends--Angie, Greta, and Sarah Jane. It was an emotional send-off, but I managed to take my first couple steps. Being Memorial Day when I departed, I devoted the first day to US Military Veterans who were homeless, lonely, and suffering.
I was about half a mile from my house when a man named Bob asked why I had such a big rucksack. I told him I was walking to Washington DC to raise awareness for the homeless, lonely, and suffering. Bob had a US Marine Corps Vet hat on, so I thanked him for his service. He was astounded to hear about my journey as well. After we shared a bit more, I departed and walked more.
The Starkweathers and church friends drove passed me, waving and honking. It was great to have that reassuring feeling.
I made it about two miles when I heard someone honking at me. It was none other than an old friend, Matt Holland. He jumped out of his car and greeted me. It was great to see that wherever I went there was friends or family. I also had a walking stick which I put everyone's name on it who has supported me financially or emotionally throughout preparing this journey. Matt carved a cross at the top, gave me some cash for my journey, and departed, driving away with a smile as I returned that smile as well.
I made it to Dunbarton, NH and made a rest at the gazebo where I was greeted by Chuck and Laura Houghton--family friends the past 8 years. It was such a relief to get off my feet and sit down to talk with them for a while. After having some trail mix, they left and I continued walking.
I saw my mom and dad twice, who brought me water unannounced. The support from my family was tough to receive, let alone I cannot fathom how tough the support was for them to give. I quickly learned how much it affected them, and every time I thought of them, I slowed down my steps. Attempting to focus on something else, I brushed it off and kept moving. I was almost to Goffstown, NH when I wanted to quit. I was being constantly reminded of what I was doing by the birds chirping, frogs croaking, and squirrels climbing trees. Why? Because I simply see God in nature.
After walking 13.8 miles, I made it to Goffstown, NH to St. Lawrence Church and called Fr. Gerry. He answered, told me to turn around, and saw him standing on his front porch across the street. I was warmly greeted and brought in to take a tour where I would be staying. The upstairs had a soft feel to it--light blue walls, a nice small chapel with statues of Mary, Jesus, and a nativity scene. My room had a mini fridge with water and gatorade as well as a framed picture that said, "Service." I knew I was in good hands. After the tour of the rest of the house, Fr. Gerry reminded me that I was to act as a visiting priest for the day; that this home was my home. I settled down, then returned downstairs.
The table was decorated with an amazing amount of food. There was a fruit tart cake, spinach, blueberries, crackers and cheese (my favorite) and a salad I dressed with balsamic dressing. Fr. Gerry cooked protein pasta with, what was to become my favorite pasta topping of all time, arrabbiata! The arrabbiata was the absolute most amazing thing I had ever eaten. It had a sweet sausage and amazing tomatoes. Fr. Gerry would teach me the recipe in time. I made it upstairs and took a warm bath with epsom salts to relax my muscles after the first day. It was much needed.
Fr. Gerry and I talked later on the back porch lit by 4 bright oil candles. We shared stories how he used to be a Franciscan Friar for 5 years, his stay at St. Lawrence for 8 years, and his vocation calling him since the 3rd grade. What an amazing man Fr. Gerry is. He also told me about near-death experiences and a book called, "Fast Lane to Heaven" by Ned Dougherty; something I'm interested in picking up soon.
Fr. Gerry also gave me a cross made by someone named Ron. It was lightweight and made of oak. I put it on my nightstand before going to bed. I called my parents, my friends CJ, Shane, and Ginger, then went to bed.
When I woke up I felt very refreshed, and was excited to hear Fr. Gerry play guitar before mass. When I was walking into mass, I was greeted by Mr. Bergeron. His wife was my freshman year theology teacher at Bishop Brady High School. He also spoke at the Kairos retreat my senior year in high school, so it's been a while since I've seen him, but the shared smiles had not changed.
I said the homily at mass, where I introduced myself to the amazing community at St. Lawrence as well as explained my journey to them. I told them the truth--that I wanted to quit the first day. However, I knew the community was waiting for me and I made it there for them. When asking God to give me 'one more day' it quickly changed to 'one more step'.
After mass there was an abundant breakfast with many more donations by the great community of St. Lawrence. I departed as Fr. Gerry sent me out, and continued on my journey.
My blister on my right foot popped, regardless of the mole skin I used, within the first mile, so I duct-taped it and continued onward. I was stopped by a couple guys in a truck and asked where I was going. I said Washington DC, and gave them a card my sister's boyfriend Max and I made a couple days before the walk to lead them to this site and explain what it is I am doing. After a little while talking, they moved along as I continued walking.
I was walking along a small river in New Boston as two female walkers passed me, asking where I was going with such a large backpack. I also gave them a card and said Washington DC for the homeless. Their names were Faith and Kristen, and had such a humbling presence about them. They explained that they were going to see a statue of a little boy fishing along the river. After a while talking and some selfies later, they made it to the little boy statue as I did too a little after them. We said our goodbyes and continued our separate ways.
I was greeted again by a man named Butch in a truck who asked if I was going to Colorado. I explained no, Washington DC and gave him a card as well. After a little while talking he drove up the road as I pressed on. About a mile later I heard a strong robust voice shout, "STEPHEN!" For a split second I thought it was God. I looked around and saw Butch sitting on his porch. He shouted if I wanted some water, which I was very relieved and quickly responded with a strong, "Yes!" Take what is offered, you never know when you'll need it.
Later on down the road I fell at a rock and called CJ, his sister Franella, Shane, and I received a call from my priest Fr. George. I called CJ, Franella, and Shane for motivation. I was slow, I was weak, I was falling apart. I was lonely. The first day I felt homeless, especially leaving home. I did not feel as lonely because of many familiar faces I had seen along the way. It was hot, but I was drinking lots of water and the gatorade from Fr. Gerry earlier in the day. Suffering? Yes, emotionally and mentally I was suffering. I felt as though I had fully hit upon the three aspects for which I was trying to raise awareness. The whole point of the walking stick was to not be alone--to look down and be reminded of my support. However, without the face-to-face human connectivity, I felt lonely. I felt homeless especially as the glances from some drivers passing by seemed shocked and surprised. Some did give a simple smile, something I had needed all day.
When I was praying to God the first day on my walk, the prayer went something like this:
"Dear Lord, please give me the strength to press on. Please help me day by day achieve awareness for those who are homeless, lonely, and suffering. Bless them with all Your might, and help me make it to DC, for if I don't, I have failed myself. Please help me succeed."
The second day, something happened. Everything changed so soon. The prayer shifted to this:
"Dear God, please give me the strength to make one more step. Please help me each and every step to realize the truth about human dignity; that everyone deserves to be loved. Bless them with all Your might, and help me make it one more step, for if I don't make it to my destination, I know I can always come home and you will be proud of me up until and after the last step I take. Please help me have the courage and wisdom to know when my last step will be; to be honest with myself and my health, for my sake, my family's sake, and everyone's sake. Please help me continue to help myself in order to help others."
After calling my friends I picked up and moved on. Step. By step. By step. Within 50 yards after where I rested on the rock, there was a rock that said, "Sunday driver, if you stop to think, you'll think to stop." Stop to think, you'll think to stop. Yep, that's what happened. I had stopped to think. I thought of my family, and how much it affected them. I thought of the continued and unconditional love and support from each of them. My mom and dad shedding tears as I left. My sister being one of my biggest supports and best friends throughout my whole life. My brother Sean and his Track and Field meets I rarely had gone to because of school. My brother Richard succeeding at Lacrosse this year and seeing his emotions get the best of him the day before as well. And my little sister Halle, whom I've been at college since she was 7 years old. I had just gotten back home from school and a week later I left for what would have been a month long journey. Every time I thought of them I slowed down. The rock, being a symbol of foundation and strength upon which the church was built, was right. I stopped to think. I thought to stop.
By now I was out of water. I had stopped to think so much day 2 that I had only made it 6 miles with 11 left to go by 4:00. I went into the woods to camp out for the night, but found no level foundation. I got out of the woods and sat on another rock by Summit Dr and McCurdy Rd. I called my mom and lied, saying that everything was alright. I couldn't muster the confidence to say, "I want to come home." I was also not in the right condition to come home. I was very skittish and aware of every single sound of my surroundings. I called Franella again and asked to be picked up. Her brother, my best friend and also brother, came to pick me up an hour later. When he got there, I didn't want to go. I didn't want to give up. No one had shown as much confidence in me and hadn't pushed me harder on the phone and in life than my other best friend Shane. He was telling me just one more day. Just one more. I could do it. First three days suck, but I got this. It took CJ and I two hours of fighting and talking with people on the phone to realize this. I talked to Franella. I talked to CJ's mom. CJ talked to my mom, my cousin Colin, my priest, everyone. It took two hours to throw my bag in the back of CJ's car, along with walking stick in the back seats, to realize that I was done. That I had changed, that I am supposed to be home, and that I am not supposed to be suffering or letting my family suffer like this.
I was also not homeless; I was forever home with God. I was not lonely, I was walking with God. I was suffering, but not an obstacle in my way that God knows I cannot handle, but the wisdom to know when to stop, and the courage to actually stop.
I met a lot of amazing people along my way, however I met one in particular that had the greatest impact on me. I re-met myself. My direction was clear and future still bright, full of potential and all. I return home today.
I just want to thank everybody via Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, churches, strangers, friends, and family that have supported me throughout the past couple months in preparation for this march. I just hope I raised enough awareness and money to make the slightest impact. However, I changed myself too. I hope this in exchange makes an even bigger impact someday in the people I met and those I am raising awareness for.
Again, thank you. Pictures will be posted later. I love you all, and appreciate every single person for every single thing they have done for me. Thank you.
After walking 13.8 miles, I made it to Goffstown, NH to St. Lawrence Church and called Fr. Gerry. He answered, told me to turn around, and saw him standing on his front porch across the street. I was warmly greeted and brought in to take a tour where I would be staying. The upstairs had a soft feel to it--light blue walls, a nice small chapel with statues of Mary, Jesus, and a nativity scene. My room had a mini fridge with water and gatorade as well as a framed picture that said, "Service." I knew I was in good hands. After the tour of the rest of the house, Fr. Gerry reminded me that I was to act as a visiting priest for the day; that this home was my home. I settled down, then returned downstairs.
The table was decorated with an amazing amount of food. There was a fruit tart cake, spinach, blueberries, crackers and cheese (my favorite) and a salad I dressed with balsamic dressing. Fr. Gerry cooked protein pasta with, what was to become my favorite pasta topping of all time, arrabbiata! The arrabbiata was the absolute most amazing thing I had ever eaten. It had a sweet sausage and amazing tomatoes. Fr. Gerry would teach me the recipe in time. I made it upstairs and took a warm bath with epsom salts to relax my muscles after the first day. It was much needed.
Fr. Gerry and I talked later on the back porch lit by 4 bright oil candles. We shared stories how he used to be a Franciscan Friar for 5 years, his stay at St. Lawrence for 8 years, and his vocation calling him since the 3rd grade. What an amazing man Fr. Gerry is. He also told me about near-death experiences and a book called, "Fast Lane to Heaven" by Ned Dougherty; something I'm interested in picking up soon.
Fr. Gerry also gave me a cross made by someone named Ron. It was lightweight and made of oak. I put it on my nightstand before going to bed. I called my parents, my friends CJ, Shane, and Ginger, then went to bed.
When I woke up I felt very refreshed, and was excited to hear Fr. Gerry play guitar before mass. When I was walking into mass, I was greeted by Mr. Bergeron. His wife was my freshman year theology teacher at Bishop Brady High School. He also spoke at the Kairos retreat my senior year in high school, so it's been a while since I've seen him, but the shared smiles had not changed.
I said the homily at mass, where I introduced myself to the amazing community at St. Lawrence as well as explained my journey to them. I told them the truth--that I wanted to quit the first day. However, I knew the community was waiting for me and I made it there for them. When asking God to give me 'one more day' it quickly changed to 'one more step'.
After mass there was an abundant breakfast with many more donations by the great community of St. Lawrence. I departed as Fr. Gerry sent me out, and continued on my journey.
My blister on my right foot popped, regardless of the mole skin I used, within the first mile, so I duct-taped it and continued onward. I was stopped by a couple guys in a truck and asked where I was going. I said Washington DC, and gave them a card my sister's boyfriend Max and I made a couple days before the walk to lead them to this site and explain what it is I am doing. After a little while talking, they moved along as I continued walking.
I was walking along a small river in New Boston as two female walkers passed me, asking where I was going with such a large backpack. I also gave them a card and said Washington DC for the homeless. Their names were Faith and Kristen, and had such a humbling presence about them. They explained that they were going to see a statue of a little boy fishing along the river. After a while talking and some selfies later, they made it to the little boy statue as I did too a little after them. We said our goodbyes and continued our separate ways.
I was greeted again by a man named Butch in a truck who asked if I was going to Colorado. I explained no, Washington DC and gave him a card as well. After a little while talking he drove up the road as I pressed on. About a mile later I heard a strong robust voice shout, "STEPHEN!" For a split second I thought it was God. I looked around and saw Butch sitting on his porch. He shouted if I wanted some water, which I was very relieved and quickly responded with a strong, "Yes!" Take what is offered, you never know when you'll need it.
Later on down the road I fell at a rock and called CJ, his sister Franella, Shane, and I received a call from my priest Fr. George. I called CJ, Franella, and Shane for motivation. I was slow, I was weak, I was falling apart. I was lonely. The first day I felt homeless, especially leaving home. I did not feel as lonely because of many familiar faces I had seen along the way. It was hot, but I was drinking lots of water and the gatorade from Fr. Gerry earlier in the day. Suffering? Yes, emotionally and mentally I was suffering. I felt as though I had fully hit upon the three aspects for which I was trying to raise awareness. The whole point of the walking stick was to not be alone--to look down and be reminded of my support. However, without the face-to-face human connectivity, I felt lonely. I felt homeless especially as the glances from some drivers passing by seemed shocked and surprised. Some did give a simple smile, something I had needed all day.
When I was praying to God the first day on my walk, the prayer went something like this:
"Dear Lord, please give me the strength to press on. Please help me day by day achieve awareness for those who are homeless, lonely, and suffering. Bless them with all Your might, and help me make it to DC, for if I don't, I have failed myself. Please help me succeed."
The second day, something happened. Everything changed so soon. The prayer shifted to this:
"Dear God, please give me the strength to make one more step. Please help me each and every step to realize the truth about human dignity; that everyone deserves to be loved. Bless them with all Your might, and help me make it one more step, for if I don't make it to my destination, I know I can always come home and you will be proud of me up until and after the last step I take. Please help me have the courage and wisdom to know when my last step will be; to be honest with myself and my health, for my sake, my family's sake, and everyone's sake. Please help me continue to help myself in order to help others."
After calling my friends I picked up and moved on. Step. By step. By step. Within 50 yards after where I rested on the rock, there was a rock that said, "Sunday driver, if you stop to think, you'll think to stop." Stop to think, you'll think to stop. Yep, that's what happened. I had stopped to think. I thought of my family, and how much it affected them. I thought of the continued and unconditional love and support from each of them. My mom and dad shedding tears as I left. My sister being one of my biggest supports and best friends throughout my whole life. My brother Sean and his Track and Field meets I rarely had gone to because of school. My brother Richard succeeding at Lacrosse this year and seeing his emotions get the best of him the day before as well. And my little sister Halle, whom I've been at college since she was 7 years old. I had just gotten back home from school and a week later I left for what would have been a month long journey. Every time I thought of them I slowed down. The rock, being a symbol of foundation and strength upon which the church was built, was right. I stopped to think. I thought to stop.
By now I was out of water. I had stopped to think so much day 2 that I had only made it 6 miles with 11 left to go by 4:00. I went into the woods to camp out for the night, but found no level foundation. I got out of the woods and sat on another rock by Summit Dr and McCurdy Rd. I called my mom and lied, saying that everything was alright. I couldn't muster the confidence to say, "I want to come home." I was also not in the right condition to come home. I was very skittish and aware of every single sound of my surroundings. I called Franella again and asked to be picked up. Her brother, my best friend and also brother, came to pick me up an hour later. When he got there, I didn't want to go. I didn't want to give up. No one had shown as much confidence in me and hadn't pushed me harder on the phone and in life than my other best friend Shane. He was telling me just one more day. Just one more. I could do it. First three days suck, but I got this. It took CJ and I two hours of fighting and talking with people on the phone to realize this. I talked to Franella. I talked to CJ's mom. CJ talked to my mom, my cousin Colin, my priest, everyone. It took two hours to throw my bag in the back of CJ's car, along with walking stick in the back seats, to realize that I was done. That I had changed, that I am supposed to be home, and that I am not supposed to be suffering or letting my family suffer like this.
I was also not homeless; I was forever home with God. I was not lonely, I was walking with God. I was suffering, but not an obstacle in my way that God knows I cannot handle, but the wisdom to know when to stop, and the courage to actually stop.
I met a lot of amazing people along my way, however I met one in particular that had the greatest impact on me. I re-met myself. My direction was clear and future still bright, full of potential and all. I return home today.
I just want to thank everybody via Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, churches, strangers, friends, and family that have supported me throughout the past couple months in preparation for this march. I just hope I raised enough awareness and money to make the slightest impact. However, I changed myself too. I hope this in exchange makes an even bigger impact someday in the people I met and those I am raising awareness for.
Again, thank you. Pictures will be posted later. I love you all, and appreciate every single person for every single thing they have done for me. Thank you.
