For Will Gunter, the last year raised old doubts and questions.
"Maybe this is heretical to say, but it seems like there are some things God has to answer for."
This isn't the first time Will has been down this road through grief, doubt, questions, and anger with God. Over the last ten years, he's lost his best friend, his wife, and twice had an opportunity to serve as Lay Rector at Cursillo delayed by events beyond his control. And then came 2020, a year that left us all feeling lonely and disconnected.
"I'm an introvert, but I've been lonely," said Will. "I'm tired of streaming movies. I've seen every Marvel movie, and I'm ready to be with people."
"Although, to be honest, those Marvel movies really are fantastic," Will added with a grin.
Will is the Lay Rector for the next Cursillo, which is scheduled to for April 2022. He sat down to talk about what it will feel like to be the first Lay Rector after the great pause over drinks and guacamole at Taco Mama on a beautiful Spring afternoon.
"In Cursillo, we encourage each other when things get tough," said Will. "We say, 'ultreya,' which means, 'onward,' and we say 'the best is yet to come.' But sometimes, those encouragements are pretty tough to hear."
There have been times when Will's grief was so profound, he wondered whether the best was in the past and if ultreya was even possible.
Faith Like St. Thomas
Will was raised in the church, but it was complicated. His mother was Southern Baptist, and his father, Episcopalian. Whether it was a dour priest who seemed intent on taking the joy out of the Christian life or the fundamentalist pastor who mostly seemed to love his own ego, Will wasn't finding answers to his questions. He never quite felt at home in church.
So he walked away.
"I didn't believe in God, and I really didn't miss church. But then my children were born."
As Will stood over the crib looking at his baby, his heart opened with the realization that something called God must exist.
"I didn't know what God was, and I didn't think I would find God in church. But as I looked at my children, I knew there must be something beyond ourselves."
He started attending St. John's Montgomery as a young, single parent primarily to reconnect with his extended family. But something happened as he participated in the sacraments and liturgy week after week. Will started to feel at home. He even started attending a Sunday school class led by a layperson by the name of Glenda Curry. The church became an important part of Will's life.
But his faith wasn't personal.
"Before my Cursillo weekend, I tried to approach Christ through my logical mind with limited success. At Cursillo in April of 2002, I experienced the love of God in Christ in a deeply visceral way."
And nothing has been the same since. Will still has doubts. In fact, St. Thomas will be the patron saint for his weekend. But he is completely convinced of God's love.
The Way
Cursillo started in 1947 as a renewal movement in the Catholic church in Mallorca. It developed around the Camino de Santiago, a 500-mile pilgrimage to the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela. After watching "The Way," a movie about the Camino starring Martin Sheen, Will and his best friend, Clif Dixon, started planning a trip to Spain.
"We planned to walk the Camino together," said Will. "But God had other plans."
Clif was preparing to serve as a Lay Rector at a Cursillo weekend when he was diagnosed with mesothelioma.
"I made the decision to go ahead and walk the Camino in 2013 as an intercessory prayer for Clif's healing. That prayer wasn't answered, and I've had a hard time accepting that."
"Clif was a big man. Big in stature. Big appetite. Big anger. Big laugh. Strong. He fought cancer hard," said Will.
Clif pushed through his illness to prepare Cursillo #189, but in the end, he was too sick to attend, so he stayed home to pray for the weekend. He died on a Tuesday, two days after Cursillo #189 ended, having fought mortality to see it across the finish line.
"I was devastated and alone in Spain. Walking the Camino is really hard under normal circumstances, and I was desperately sad. As I started to question whether I could continue putting one foot in front of the other, I rounded a bend, and right there in front of me, I saw the word ultreya painted on a wall. It gave me the strength to keep moving forward until my wife Avis could join me on the trail. I couldn't have finished without her. After she arrived, my walk started transforming from intercession to thanksgiving for having known Clif and for having been his friend."
Will took this picture of the wall that encouraged him to carry on just when he needed it.
"Because I was in Spain, I wasn't able to attend Clif's funeral, but the thoughtful and kind Rev. Mark Waldo sent a communion wafer with Avis. I received the body of our Lord from Clif's funeral in the pilgrim's mass at the cathedral in Santiago de Compostela, weeping for the loss of my friend."
"With time, I was able to transform some of my grief into gratitude. But the grief never goes completely away."
Becoming A Lay Rector
The next year, Will received a call he never expected.
"They asked me to be a Lay Rector. I couldn't believe it. I never expected that anyone would think of me for that role. You only do it once in your life, and it's a really special thing."
He started assembling a staff and planning the Cursillo weekend.
"But once again, God had other plans."
Will's wife, Avis, was diagnosed with an aggressive form of ALS called bulbar onset, and he stepped down from the Lay Rector role to care for her.
"She quickly lost the ability to walk, and the only way she could communicate was by email or texts."
As the disease progressed, Will wondered how they would have the strength to continue.
"But an angel named Carleton Ambrose got people from all over to write cards and letters, and she brought us a care package that beats anything you've ever seen. I can't put into words how much that expression of love meant to us. It gave us the strength to ultreya."
Avis Gunter died on a Spring day in 2017.
"What I have learned about grief is that you have to let yourself feel it and take it one day at a time. There's no shortcut. Avis is the love of my life, and I miss her every single day."
Avis Gunter on the Camino with Will in 2013
Called a Second Time
Over time, Will gradually transformed parts of his grief into gratitude for the time he and Avis had shared. It gradually got easier to move forward, day by day.
And then, in the Spring of 2019, Will got a call asking him to serve as Lay Rector at Cursillo #222 in April of 2020. It seemed like things were coming full circle. One of the first calls Will made while building his staff was to his old Sunday School teacher.
"Glenda was just a priest at the time. She was elected Bishop not long after joining our staff, but we don't take credit for that," said Will, laughing. "We might take some of the credit for her making the jump from Sunday school teacher to priest, though."
It seemed like everything was falling into place.
But then the trickle of news about COVID-19 turned into a flood. In mid-March, the announcement came that the Cursillo #222 would be delayed indefinitely.
COVID-19
Once again, Will's opportunity to serve as Lay Rector had been delayed. It would have been understandable if he had felt sorry for himself.
"I've been through this kind of thing before. Not a pandemic, but I have some experience with grief. I know that just when you don't think you can go on anymore, you round the bend, and right there in front of you is a friend or a sign to provide the strength to 'ultreya.' It enables you to fully experience the grief, and then little by little, start turning grief into gratitude."
Will was quick to point out that "turning grief into gratitude" isn't an original concept.
"That was John Claypool. He knew a lot about grief, and he was really onto something there. Here's an example. My time alone over the last year has shown my inner introvert what a great blessing it is to be around people. This year of grief in loneliness taught me deeper gratitude for the times when we can be together. That's a small example of how, little by little, grief turns into gratitude."
The Best Is Yet To Come
All of us have been affected by the pandemic. We've lost friends and loved ones. We've suffered in isolation. We don't really know how things will be in the future or what a new normal looks like.
But when the staff and pilgrims of Cursillo #222 meet at Camp McDowell in April of 2022, they won't have to walk into the unknown future alone. They will have Will by their side.
When he says, "The best is yet to come," he says it because of how deeply he appreciates the beauty that has been lost. He says it because his journey has shown him the strength needed to 'ultreya' is usually just around the next bend.
"I don't have all the answers. I don't know what happens when we die. I don't know if we are conscious or asleep until Jesus returns. I don't know if I'll see Avis right away or if I'll even know the difference. I don't know what happens when the trail ends or why it has to be so rocky and difficult along the way. I only know that something bigger than us is at work and that we are loved beyond our wildest dreams."
"And when I think about all of us being together at Camp McDowell next April for Cursillo #222, all I can say is... I'm grateful."
