The Chapel of the Holy Cross: Sedona, AZ.

According to the ancient Chinese proverb, A journey of a thousand miles must begin with a single step.

In a previous post, A Vocation Journey: the road to Damascus, I wrote of how my Christian journey had gone from one of faith, to no faith, to a re-discovered faith. I recalled how I was challenged to re-think my attitude toward Christianity. Indeed a kairos moment between myself and a colleague led to my returning to Church and being renewed in my faith in a way that would be yet unrecognised.

In this post I want to pick up from that kairos moment to another which would set in motion a series of seemingly unrelated events that would eventuate in my move to religious life in the Society of St Francis.

But as the ancient proverb states, a journey of thousand miles must begin with one step, so I don’t want to jump too far ahead but begin with what became the first step; however unknowingly.

I was working at the Westmead Children’s Hospital as an operating room nurse. One evening I had a call from my flat mate. We had been robbed, our flat had been cleaned out, even opened bottles of expensive colognes were not exempt from the ‘liberation’ of our belongings. It was not a good time, not only had I lost all my belongings but I was in the final stages of editing my honours thesis for submission.

At that same time I received, from what seemed out of the blue, a card from my uncle in Aotearoa, New Zealand, wondering when and if I might come and visit some time. As well I had often looked into working overseas but always managed to find a reason not too; to many possessions, what would I do with this, too busy studying, what about my thesis. I managed to concoct several reasons to stay set in my ways. My flat mate and I also had a major falling out over the events and had decided to move out.

I talked to a dear friend of mine, who was mother figure and friend in my life, about all that had happened. She said, “why not move out of your flat, leave your things with me, go and see your uncle and then come back and see where things go from there; you can use your bond money to do it”. It sounded like a good plan to me. Fortunately my thesis supervisor had working copies of my thesis and I was able to get it in without too much delay; even managing to get a 2nd class div 1 hons.

I moved out of my flat and funded a trip to see my uncle out of the bond money. I had a long talk with my uncle, the world traveler, who advised me to get out and see the world and life would look differently.

After I got back from Aotearoa something was afoot. I had received a letter from an international nursing recruting agency wondering whether or not I would like to work in the UK. Hearing from recruiters was not uncommon; as I said I had made lots of enquiries over the years. What was perplexing, however, was how the letter ended up at my friend’s place where I was temporarily living. When I moved from the old place I had told no one where I was going, not even the post office for mail forwarding.

At this point a few friends I worked with from the hospital were also considering going to work in the UK. We were looking at different hospitals but ended up deciding to work at the one place; the Great Ormond St Hospital for Sick Children in London.

I decided to leave earlier than the others and go and visit a few places I’d always wanted to go to, and to see people I had not seen in a long time or even met before. I planned to visit NZ, Hawaii (one of my uncle’s favourite places), Anaheim CA (old childhood Disneyland fantasy) and most importantly Flagstaff, AZ.

During the writing of my thesis I had contact with a lady in AZ who had researched a similar topic and we had developed quite a friendship over email correspondence. Wendy had become a great friend, even though we had never met, she had been a great support to me during the writing of my thesis. As I was passing through the US I could not wait to see if we could meet up, which we did.

I had a great few days with Wendy among the many touristy kind of things we did, the Grand Canyon of course, she also took my to Sedona. What a wonderful place. Wendy particularly wanted to show me the Chapel of the Holy Cross. It is a simple chapel built into the red rocks of Sedona. I love that colour red, it reminds me very much of the lovely ochre red of outback Australia.

Figurine of St Francis of Assisi, Chapel of the Holy Cross Sedona, AZ.

As I wandered around the Chapel I was taken in by its amazing presence, not just physically, but in a greater more spiritual kind of way. It felt like a ‘place of presence’. What struck me particularly was a small unassuming figurine of a man holding up two birds in his hands.

I didn’t think much of it at the time. Being raised in the Salvation Army I didn’t know much about Saints. I may have heard something of St Francis. I don’t quite remember. However, there was something about that figurine that seemed to say quite a lot to me. It is a shame that at the time I didn’t realise the full connection between this simple figurine and the rest of my life; for it was at this kairos moment that I first met St Francis of Assisi.

We left the red rocks of Sedona and I continued my journey onto the UK, having been thankful for the opportunity to meet an exceptional woman and dear friend. In the next ‘episode’ I continue with the way in which I kept ‘meeting’ St Francis and how my calling to a Franciscan life was beginning to reveal itself.

A close up of the figurine of St Francis of Assisi: Chapel of the Holy Cross, Sedona, AZ.