I remember a difficult but beautiful journey to my mother's homeland in Northern Italy in the Apennine Mountains adjacent to the city of Parma.

My mom and grandparents had always generally spoken of their little mountain village of Belforte and the city of Parma as being in close proximity. Having failed in doing my geographic research before my trip, my friend and I drove from his family's home in Turin directly down to Parma. I was amazed that the pristine city of Parma was absolutely flat.

Where was the mountain village?

Stopping at a gas station and struggling through my Italian, I asked "Where is Belforte?"

The attendant looked at me in surprise, pointing in the far distance to the mountains rising up from the plains.

"Seventy kilometers that way!"

Placing a call to my grandmother's sister, Aunt Josephine, all she could advise was "Keep going straight!"

Straight? All the roads were curves and twists to varied villages all the way up and along the mountain paths. Finally, stopping at a local bar perched on what looked like a precipice, I asked the bartender for help. He laughed aloud, saying the postman will surely help us.

The postman, in uniform, was sitting at the bar, having an espresso.

"I will take you to Belforte! Follow me!"

Jumping on his motorcycle, he revved it up and led the way to yet higher altitudes as I struggled to calmly follow in my car, steadying my nerves with every dizzying turn overlooking frightening drops. At last we arrived, my aunt in the middle of the road greeting us with open arms — welcoming us, smiling and also gently scolding us for being late.

I cannot tell you the joy and glory of seeing mom's birthplace, the majesty of the land, the little cemetery bearing the names of many relatives I had heard about as a boy — one of whom I was named after — and the unknown love and sense of my true self that welled up in me.

Lent is a journey of creative searching, finding, bearing the cross, and nearing-embracing the risen glory of Jesus. Like my trip to mom's birthplace, it is not easy, but it will be rewarding

The mountain and curves we face will pay off if we are faithful to the destination. Lent is meant to lead us to getting in better touch with the truth of who we are. Jesus says: "Then you will know the truth and the truth will set you free" (John 8:32). The closer we get to our true selves, the freer we are to love others without fear or resentment, envy or timidity.

Kneeling at that little Italian cemetery, I felt amazed by how our relatives and friends who have gone before us in the sign of faith, and all the known and unknown saints in heaven, are all rooting for us on the way — praying with and for us on the path to glory.

We may think we are lost at times, but Lent is a time to refocus on Christ — who gives us help to steady ourselves and puts us back on track.

Lent takes us to the mountain of Calvary so that when Easter dawns, we can truly appreciate the depth of Christ's love, a love which bursts forth beyond the grave.

None of the arduous Lenten work and the oftentimes difficult Christian journey would be worth it if it wasn't about love and relationship. Indeed, the journey is all about God taking the initiative to call us into relationship, and his remarkable, faithful, all sustaining love.

In journeying toward Christ's love, St Ignatius of Loyola recommended that we each stand in spirit at the foot of the cross on Mount Calvary. Once you are firmly standing there, ask yourself: "What does Jesus want of me?"

Going up that steep mount to Calvary, like my journey, will be scary at times. But hang tight. Ascend it! You are not alone.

The cross will lead you and me home. It will lead us into our hearts where we will know the truth.

On Easter morning, we will be stronger, bathed in a new light, ready for risen glory at work in us.