It's no surprise, then, that as God led me to a Eucharistic life--a life of radical dependence on him, of trust, and of simplicity--he would lead me to Mary, his Mother, so that I would learn how to pray.

I say this because during Holy Week I heard that Lisa and Amy were going to Medjugorje (a village in Bosnia-Herzegovinia whose life revolves around the life of Christ and the messages of Mary). Steve, my roommate, had gone there before, and enjoyed it thoroughly, encouraging us all at some point to go. In one night, I planned and decided on the trip to Medjugorje, catching a train the next afternoon to Ancona, the Italian port city on the Adriatic Sea-- the city where I would catch a boat to cross.

There, I found that boat and pretended to be St. Paul for the 10-hour journey