The third experience [of the noviceship] is to spend [a] month in making a pilgrimage without money, but begging from door to door at times ... in order to grow accustomed to discomfort in food and lodging. Thus too the candidate, through abandoning all reliance which he could have in money or other created things, may with genuine faith and intense love place his reliance entirely in his Creator and Lord.
(St. Ignatius of Loyola, General Examen [67])

Between June and July 2008, Eddie Cosgrove (a novice of the Irish Province) and I were sent on a six-week pilgrimage between York and Iona via Holy Island (Lindisfarne) – a journey of about 400 miles. We carried with us a tent for lodging and a maximum daily budget of £4 per head for food. While we were certainly tested physically and emotionally on the journey, what remains most with me is the sense of complete trust in Divine Providence. God watched over us, preserved us and sustained us throughout the journey from the first moment to the last.

The most memorable instance of Providence for me was the ‘walking shoes’ episode. By the time we had reached Holy Island (less than halfway on the journey), the pair of shoes I had started with had developed such severe cracks in the soles that water gushed up and soaked my feet. Clearly, they were not going to carry me the rest of the journey. I was considering my options on Holy Island when the person who had generously arranged a place for us to stay there (in itself an instance of Providence) suddenly asked me what size my shoes were. I responded, “A size nine”. Five minutes later she walked into the room with a brand new pair of walking shoes in their original packaging – size nine. She had originally bought them a few months earlier to walk her dog in; but, on reaching home, she realised that walking shoes were probably not the most comfortable option. She bought a pair of trainers later (and still happily walks her dog in them), but never returned the first pair. In her own words, “I’ve seen the box there so many times and wondered why I ever bought them in the first place. Now I know.”

I still have the pair of shoes she gave me. And not once in my weeks of walking in them did I have a single blister.
I remember with gratitude the numerous ordinary people who took us, two complete strangers off the street, into their homes, gave us food, hospitality and kindness. Often without realising it (not all who helped us were Christians or even theists), they took us in as Christ (c.f. Mt 25:35-36) and, in their turn, they manifested the care of God for us (c.f. Lk 12:27-28). During the pilgrimage, God manifested in a concrete way His loving care for us, a face of God I have had trouble seeing in the past. It was one of the most graced periods of my life.