In the harshest conditions, peace still finds a way. In the coldest moments, hearts still warm with compassion – Walk For Peace USA

Squatting, with my jeans pulled down, I tried to relieve myself on the edge of the slippery culvert off Interstate 64 in Apex, North Carolina.

But suddenly I felt my knees buckle and I went down head first into the grass (I was trying to protect my new hip).

For privacy, I’d been attempting to hide myself between a parked car and my husband’s large down vest.

He quickly grabbed the collar of my jacket and yanked me up. Mission accomplished.

Because I just couldn’t hold it any longer.

We had been huddling in the cold for almost 4 hours.

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We were standing in a line of thousands of people who had pulled their cars off of both sides of the highway’s shoulders, and here we waited.

Waiting, waiting for the Buddhist monks.

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I had heard they were on a Walk for Peace that was traveling from Fort Worth, Texas to Washington, D.C.

On foot, some of them even barefoot.

I was there to witness and pay respect and to simply be in their presence. Just to get a glimpse as they passed through North Carolina.

We had no idea there would be throngs of people wanting to do the same thing.

An assortment of them- children and old folks, Black, Brown, Indian. Some held signs. Some waved flowers. Some came to be healed. I’m not sure what most people wanted.

But their faces seemed to me to be happy and expectant.

Many were radiant.

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We had been instructed to stay quiet and only to bring our hands together and bow in prayer. And we were not to reach out to them or get in front of them. But we could follow along behind them and walk.

Throughout the day I felt the warmth and respect from those around me.

I’ve never been a part of a group like this. I’ve been to protests, but this was a different thing.

The air felt thick with promise. There was a restrained joy.

But mostly, there was a yearning. There was a hunger to see these men.

And finally the police escort lights were visible through the trees of the state park and the tiny figures moved closer.

Their saffron gold and brown robes moved along at a clip – they walked pretty fast.

I was holding my breath.

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My nerves had been so jangled.

Throughout the long afternoon of waiting I had also been endlessly scrolling my text messages to get word about my sister.

She was being arrested in Minneapolis at that very same time.

She, along with other clergy, were protesting at the airport.

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Later, I watched the media footage of them as they kneeled in the freezing cold, praying. They were bundled up, covered in ice and snow. Palms open to the sky.

And across the sidewalk a large group of fellow protesters chanted Let them pray /Let them pray.

And then one by one they were calmly taken away by the police, hands zip-tied and then put in a school bus.

This was all going on while I was waiting on the highway.

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My sister is so beautiful anyway, but seeing her like that took my breath.

She had a glow like an aura around her face – like the saints in those medieval paintings. I was transfixed.

Her breath came out in icy puffs but you could see that she was praying. Eyes closed, her face was simply luminous.

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Witnessing that scene was akin to receiving the beatific smile from the lively little monk who reached out to me and handed me flowers.

I couldn’t breathe, time slowed down and I felt golden warmth spread through my whole body.

As they passed, the glow went with them but a tiny bit, like holy pollen, brushed across my being.

I felt warm from the inside out and everything was shining.

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My husband and I could barely speak the rest of the way home and into the evening. Something had changed and we didn’t want to disturb that.

And even now, remembering the event makes me tear up.

In this world that feels so broken, there are these beautiful things.

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In these moments I feel hope. I no longer automatically default to that cynical vibe that believes that evil cannot be defeated.

Because I witnessed that mighty force that came walking bravely down the highway, undaunted and free.

A walk that embodied the hope that I’ve been searching for. The monks showed me what peace looks like.

I needed that because I’d forgotten.

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Courage and hope in one day. It was a lot.

And now I’m trying to keep those smiling men with bare feet in my mind, front and center as I go about my ordinary day.

And of my sister kneeling and praying on the curb at the airport, both of these images interlace.

I want to hold the light of these holy people in my heart.

As a reminder of hope –

for joy, for peace and for love.