The DC "Beam" is Connected!
Volume XXVI, Number 18
November 11, 2022
My Friends,
I wanted to let you know I'm okay. This was, by far, my longest stretch without writing a CatholiCity Message in 26 years! Frankly, I was overwhelmed for weeks and miss all of you.
The terrific news is that we completed the 650-mile Washington DC "beam" of Operation True Cross over the Appalachian Mountains before the elections—overcoming hurricane weather, injury, and danger—with a big surprise.
As outlined in my previous message, I believe yet another high-level principality was cast down by the power of God because of your prayers, almsgiving, and self-denials as a result of our joining the second "beam" of Operation True Cross.
Here is my photo-diary of the daunting barriers that stood in our way (including links to podcasts by the surprise Cyrenes who came to our rescue):
DC DIARY: Broken Down Dads
My close friend Steve Thomas and I departed from the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception on September 30th. The Mass in the expansive crypt church was followed by adoration.
My son Jude, working on his doctorate at the JP II Institute, joined us. I prostrated myself before the Blessed Sacrament (above), donned the True Cross, and began walking directly through the nation's capital.
The next six days were pure reparation. Day after day of rain and wind from Hurricane Ian pummeled us as we made our way north on treacherous curving mountain roads into northern Virginia and West Virginia. We didn't see a speck of blue sky.
Steve amazed me. At 59, and with no time to train, every step came with some new suffering as "wack-a-mole" pain migrated from one sector of his body to another. For a couple of days, his calves were so strained from miles of ascending steep hills that—if it was safe—he actually walked backwards for short stretches for relief!
Here he is outside the National Basilica of the Immaculate Conception just before we started—without a clue of the torrential hellscape he was about to endure.
Many of the roads dated back to well before the American Revolution. With practically zero cell coverage, we had to "dead reckon" finding each other at the end of our walking shifts.
We froze in the van at night, rain smacking against the metal roof.
Unlike the Wisconsin beam, with balmy temps and flat, straight roads with wide shoulders, we could not rely on energetic twenty-somethings to do the heavy lifting. From before sunrise until after sunset, we bore the cross as friends, as fathers, as Catholics, and as Americans.
Steve recorded a deeply emotional podcast for you describing his experience of Operation True Cross. Listen to the whole thing:
The Surprise CyreneWe were struggling. Then, Our Lady sent us the most unlikely Cyrene:
Randall Terry.
You probably know Randall as the founder of Operation Rescue in the late eighties. He is one of the most important pro-life activists in the history of America.
He's 63 now, carries more than a few extra pounds, smokes, and has a horribly bad back. However, in addition to being an accomplished athlete back in the day, he has a formidable will.
I met him this past summer at a Catholic conference and we became friends in a way only men are capable of, however rarely—as if by an instantaneous providential decree.
He's brilliant, savvy, hard-headed, controversial, energetic, and funny. He focuses each moment of his life on ending child killing. Every other sentence out of his mouth is a sincere, childlike prayer. When not offering prayers (and I truly mean this as a compliment), well, because he grew up in New York, he often communicates with a colorful vocabulary—which I happen to understand fluently.
Now a longtime Catholic convert, Randall is one of the greatest preachers I have ever heard. He impacted my life in June 1990 when I first got involved with Operation Rescue, which, after a sequence of divine "shoves," led to the founding of the Mary Foundation the following year (even though I was just one of thousands and did not personally meet him then).
An accomplished theologian, he understands the nature of the supernatural battle our nation faces. He is an extraordinary man of God who has worked for decades (including being arrested and jailed multiple times) to end legalized abortion.
After my last CatholiCity Message, I mentioned to him that I believed Our Lady wanted the DC pilgrimage completed before the election, but I needed her to send us another "Cyrene." I was hoping one of his older sons would be a good fit.
When he prayed for God to send a walker, the Holy Spirit informed him that he was being called to carry the cross with us!
His podcast is pure Randall—passionate, articulate, and fascinating. His section on the spiritual fruits of Operation True Cross is a must listen.
Apparently, Our Lady wanted three broken-down old men.
Blue Skies, Injuries, and Safe PassageRandall scrambled to clear his schedule and the sun, literally, began to shine one hour before he caught up with us in Cumberland, Maryland. That evening, after I finished walking, while coming out of a gas station, I turned my ankle and fell. Worse, all my weight slammed onto the kneecap of my "bad" knee to break the fall!
Somehow—and this made absolutely no sense to me then or now—despite some intense pain, bloody cuts, and swelling when it happened, these injuries did not impede me one bit when I walked the following day. Go figure. God gave me an injury mulligan. Your prayers for my health were answered.
Randall basically rescued Operation True Cross...and our lives. At that mountainous juncture, the only available roads had become incredibly dangerous.
With narrow or no shoulders, there were hundreds of opportunities to get struck by vehicles no matter how much we tried to stay safe.
Having once lived in the region, Randall told us how nearby roads came with local nicknames such as "dead man" this and "killer" that. Steve and I had already seen the tragic memorials.
Randall immediately found us a safe, peaceful 190-mile walking trail called the Great Allegheny Passage that began within a mile from where Steve and I had reached the killer stretch. It went all the way to Pittsburgh. Turns out Randall is also a logistical savant, although it added a significant number of miles.
This legendary trail, mostly used by avid bicyclists, had been transformed at great cost from old railroad lines built in the early 1900s.
As soon as we were on the "rail-trail," the weather shifted, Indian summer returned, and there was no longer any danger. Just mountains.
Before any of us took a first step, we solemnly kissed the True Cross before placing it over our shoulders. The others laid on hands and prayed for the walking Cyrene with all our hearts.
And that's what it was like for the next several days. The three of us prayed without ceasing as we carried the Relic of the True Cross over the Appalachian Mountains.
One time, because there was no other choice, I covered 19 miles in one long slog. Amazingly, Randall quickly worked up to 7 to 10 miles!
Every night, we cracked each other up at dinner (Steve is deadpan hilarious) before hitting the sack, utterly exhausted.
My two companions openly evangelized every restaurant worker, often praying with them. At a Mexican joint, Randall preached and joked in fluent Spanish with two young brothers who were waiters, who laughed and beamed with gigantic smiles for an hour! (They committed to returning to Sunday Mass.)
As for me, it turns out I possess a special gift for getting under Randall's skin. I shared this gift with him constantly, which became a main form of entertainment for me and Steve, and a source of penance for him.
Big NapoleonWe made up nicknames. Randall was the Talent. Steve was the Bull. They insisted on calling me the Mule.
This baffled me because A.) mules are famously stubborn and unintelligent, and B.) they were not being ironic. I am creative and flexible, always soliciting suggestions for improvements, and genuinely thrilled whenever a better way was proposed—and Steve and Randall offered ten great ideas for every one of mine.
So whenever they called me the Mule, I gleefully (and, uh, stubbornly) referred to myself in the third-person and signed my texts using my own choice for a nickname: Big Napoleon.
(Ladies, there are ancient, secret, and unwritten man-rules for nicknaming about which I may not reveal details, but it is permissible to conjecture that self-nicknaming is never allowed. This bothered Randall to no end.)
Bad Walking FormSteve Thomas, svelte for his age, yet round-shouldered, trudges along, head down, rosary beads in hand—rather like a bull. In his own world.
Randall, spindly legged, stiff, bang-bang-bangs into the ground like his feet are at the end of two rusty pogo sticks. Bouncy. Creaky. Sometimes he even runs full speed! It's quite ugly, yet inspiring.
When he isn't praying out loud or signing hymns, he's on a call working on another creative project to end abortion or taking care of his large family (he has seven children).
The Endless WellAs for me, during my walks, when I am "on pace," rain or shine, shoulders back, arms swinging freely, with more than a bit of a rangy puppy-dog jaunt, my feet barely feel like they are touching the ground. I am nimble for a big man—always have been. (It probably looks like CGI when I change direction.)
I am neither fast nor slow. Hills mean nothing to me. Bad weather means nothing to me.
Before I begin, I already know I will finish. After I finish, I already know I will begin again. This quality was in me when I was formed in my mother's womb. Since childhood, it has manifested many thousands of times when I've played sports, prepared for tests, or dug into professional tasks.
I did not "develop" it. I can't brag about it because it was given to me. It is always there. The "endless well," I nicknamed it once. If I live to be a hundred, it will be there.
The Homeless ManEspecially on the country roads, the locals always seem to treat me as a local, maybe because, in a real way, I am one. I have spent roughly 25% of my life on the road since I was a teenager (at this point, over ten of the last forty years), going just about every place this beautiful country has to offer.
I am comfortable everywhere. Everywhere feels familiar. Because one of my homes is being away from home. I have no true home except Catholic buildings with tabernacles inside, or, in nature itself (God's cathedral).
When no one is around, my face is "set like flint," like in that Bible passage in Isaiah. At times, perhaps because of the history-changing goal of the mission itself, I felt dangerous and untouchable, utterly protected by the most powerful angels and Our Lady herself.
Deep inside me, beyond what can be put into words or expressed with emotions or conveyed even by the most perfect music—that is, inside my immortal soul, where the faith of my baptism is eternally marked, I find a pleasant surprise...
...you. You are there. The grace from your prayers. The power of God!
Unbreakable and FlexibleThe power of grace is what binds the Mystical Body of Christ, the primary theme of every novel I've written. We are not connected by an easily-broken web, but fused together by a force of Love that makes the strongest metallic alloy seem brittle and weak.
Grace, unseen, is unbreakable and flexible. The strongest thing there is.
Yet I am a simple man of peace. My entire life, the one beatitude that strongly resonates with me is "Blessed are the peacemakers." My entire life, the one Mystery of the Rosary that has jumped out at me is The Carrying of the Cross.
Now I know why. So I could be a part of this humble, hidden project with Christ Crucified, with Our Lady of Sorrows, with the Operation True Cross angel, and with Anthony, Patrick, Clete, Xavier, Randall, Steve...
...and you.
I am also carrying a flash drive with your tens of thousands of petitions. It's in my wallet, usually in the "cargo" side pocket of on my left leg, rising and falling in the melody of each step, gently resting on living, moving muscle.
I can't wait to take on the thousands of miles until the third and fourth beams of our living crucifix from California and then Florida "connect" into a fully formed cross.
Only if you come with me.
This divine power is inside us; the Catechism teaches this. It is strength itself. As I type, I want this strength, which I am certain is not my own, to jump through this screen so you can know it and overlay it onto your own divinely-given strength.
You do know it. You do. It is in you. You are baptized. It is eternal. You sense it when you pray. Or look at an image of Our Lady. Or receive Communion. Or kneel to pray your penance after a good Confession. Or sin, and somehow, get back up.
No evil can prevail against it.
Sublime SufferingI almost always walk first, as a kind of personalized reparation for a lifetime of staying up way too late and sleeping in way too much. When I awake, before the sun rises, I leap out of that narrow little bunk onto the freezing van floor, take my vitamins and ibuprofen, and begin again.
A Longfellow quote keeps coming to me: "How sublime a thing it is to suffer and be strong."
During one of my longer walks, after Randall prayed over me, I found myself immersed in an internal spiritual state I still barely comprehend. I was overcome with emotion and I am not emotional (unless you count anger). It changed me.
As happened during the final days of the Wisconsin "beam," Our Lady placed an undeniably strong desire into my heart to complete the California pilgrimage as soon as possible.
Reinforcements ArriveBy the time we reached Pittsburgh, Randall and Steve had to return their families, so my son Clete "subbed in" during his fall break from college. The weather was horrible again, and he bore the brunt of it with good cheer.
His brother Xavier replaced him for the next seven days and brought the True Cross over the blessedly flat Ohio farmlands at a blistering pace—especially after we synced up with the Wabash Cannonball rail-trail.
We were running out of sunlight, and Xavier took on the brunt of the miles for his old man. At one point on the Cannonball Trail, he continued hours into the night, walking through spooky woods and dark towns with just a headlamp and his wits. Glowing eyeballs followed him from the underbrush—local wildlife curious about this 6'5" interloper.
Randall and Steve, determined to finish what Our Lady started, returned to me just past the eastern border of Indiana and took us all the way home to Notre Dame.
That is Steve's son David and Randall's old buddy Joseph, who met up with us on the last day to carry the Cross the final few hundred yards into the Lourdes Grotto on October 27th.
Four full weeks. I walked every single day. By the end, my banged-up right leg had turned ugly browns, blacks, and yellows from the strange, painless bruising, yet became stronger over the final four hundred miles.
A Profound Sign was GrantedAnd as we walked onto the campus of my alma mater, Notre Dame, the Lord God sent us an unmistakable and extraordinary sign that heaven had ordained Operation True Cross—and from a certain spiritual perspective, it was an unnerving sign.
I will tell you about it in my next message.
Stream the Daily Prayers
The Daily Prayers to Save America are the primary means for tens of thousands to participate in Operation True Cross. Now you can stream them every day during your commute or at home!
It's beautifully recorded, and you can listen on Spotify, Apple, and Google Podcasts. You can also stream them from our website.
Catholic Quotations
"Fasting is better than prayer and almsgiving is better than both."
- Saint Clement I
"It is only by sacrificing and suffering, offered as penance, that you will be able, by the grace of God, to convert sinners."
- Saint John Vianney
"We boast in our afflictions, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance proven character, and proven character hope—and hope does not disappoint us, because God's love has been poured into our hearts."
- Saint Paul (Romans 5:1-6)
Let us begin in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit...
Dear Lord, I do not know what will happen to me today.
I only know that nothing will happen
that was not foreseen by you
and directed to my greater good from all eternity.
I adore your holy and unfathomable plans,
and submit to them with all my heart
for love of You, the pope,
and the Immaculate Heart of Mary.
Amen.
Thank you for being a part of it all and for walking with us spiritually.
And listen to Steve and Randall's podcasts. Until next time, I remain your brother by baptism, in Christ Crucified, from time into eternity...
With Saint Joseph,
Terror of Demons,
Bud Macfarlane
Founder
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