On Sunday, I woke up not knowing what I would do for the day. My family would be home again later in the afternoon or early evening, but I still had most of the day to myself.

As I wrote in my journal, what better place to start the journey this week but at the train station.

In the last five years, I’ve been luckily been able to travel in three of those years: Wales in 2009, Denver in 2011, and Williamsburg, Virginia in 2013. By far, the trek with the least amount of travel stress was in 2013 when I took Amtrak. I would love to do that again. I loved the traveling by train.

I spent about two hours there, amid the noise of hellos and goodbyes, the Red Caps rushing about helping passengers, people asking for the bathrooms, a man working on his laptop, even a Tardis hat. I had a bag for my books and things, so I didn’t look out of place.

I took out my Kindle and read the first part of James Martin’s Together on Retreat. His first prayer was the calling of the first disciples. Jesus’ very simple, but powerful “Follow me” said out loud what I felt when he called me two years ago. I think that sometime this week, I might be ready to write about that in more detail.

After the train station, I followed the signs to a place where you could look across the river to the Albany skyline. I was surprised at how close I was to the water. To be honest, this looked like the place in the movies where you find the dead body or where the thugs take you to shoot you in the head and let you fall into the water, never to be seen again.

Despite this, there was a playground nearby with laughing children, painted murals on the highway support pylons, which after Doctor Who’s most recent episode, Flatlines, made me very, very, very nervous. I took pictures of the boats, of the water, of the bridge above me and the tall buildings across the way.

It wasn’t the Sea of Galilee that Fr. Martin was writing about, but it was still a beautiful place to meditate on a few things.

I haven’t sorted out what I’m doing with the rest of my week. I had only formally planned Monday and Saturday.

Monday, at my church was their annual Anointment Mass, and with my current health issues, I was really looking forward to going to this healing mass. It was beautiful, and very moving. There was music, which I loved singing with; most of the songs I’d had a little knowledge of, and the Fathers came to where we were sitting to anoint us and give us the Eucharist. It was very welcoming and intimate, and I got a lot out of it. They also served a lunch, and I sat with people I’d just met. It was lovely.

Out of the blue I’ve decided to drive out to the St. Kateri Tekakwitha shrine tomorrow. We’ll see what I find there.

Hopefully, all will be well, as was quoted from Julian of Norwich during the homily.