1. Visit holy sites. We’ll start with the obvious one! But remember that “holy” isn’t just about churches or just for saints. Certainly, shrines and cathedrals make wonderful destinations, as do mosques, synagogues, and temples. A monument, memorial, or historical site also can be holy if it lifts up your heart.

2. Meet the locals. Sometimes we can get caught up in sites and forget about the people who make a place what it truly is. Strike up a conversation with a local you run into at a restaurant, park, or museum. You’re likely to find great differences between you both, but you’ll be astounded by just how much we all have in common.

3. Learn the history. Even the smallest town has its own story, filled with interesting characters and a few oddball pieces of trivia. Knowing such things might not change your life, but it quite possibly could change your perspective.

4. Appreciate the art and architecture. The way we build and decorate our homes and workplaces says a lot about what we value, doesn’t it? So look around where you are: What does that house on the corner tell you? What about the fountain in the park? What inspired those creations? What inspires you?

5. Appreciate the natural environment. Trees, flowers, animals, rain, hills, prairies—no place is exactly like any other. There’s a powerful message there about God’s creativity, and too often we miss it while moving from activity to activity.

6. Relish the local food. From crab cakes to borscht, food means something. The ingredients tell the stories of place and people; the recipes are a tale of tradition. Take a look at your plate. What does this meal mean to the people who made it? What does it mean to you to eat it, to be served it? Food is one way people express love. What else does this dish express about the history, culture, and natural resources where you are?

7. Embrace adventure. We don’t need to be Chevy Chase to know that many vacations don’t go as planned. The challenge is to be OK with abandoning control and seeing it all as a grand adventure, something new and different from our daily lives. That’s not always easy, true. But it’s always worth it. 8. Take the road less traveled. No doubt, for many of us, the idea of vacation immediately sends our bank accounts into spasms. But all around us are roads we haven’t taken before, even if they’re just one neighborhood over. So, go for it! Start walking, riding, or driving, and see where you end up. It won’t cost you much, and there’s great value in exploring the unknown.

9. Marvel at the methods. We tend to take for granted how we get where we’re going, but the transportation can be part of the fun. Cars, trains, planes, and boats (to say nothing of our own two feet) are works of art and science rolled into one. While you’re waiting for the bus or the airport tram, think about what it takes to move you. Who invented it? How is it made? How many parts have to come together at the right time and in the right ways to get you where you’re going? When you break it down that way, you’ll see that even a brief cab ride is nothing short of a miracle.

10. Give a nod to God. Whatever you do, wherever you go, whatever you eat, whomever you meet—it’s all God’s creation. If that realization doesn’t make your heart skip a beat, you probably need a vacation.

It’s worth noting two key points: Francesco Bernardone was on his way to becoming the saint we know as Francis of Assisi; and it’s important never to let the facts get in the way of a good story when it has a real message to convey. St. Francis of Assisi is renowned today as a champion of peace and a lover of animals. That’s an oversimplification, of course, but it’s not exactly wrong.

In his day, Francis gained a reputation as having been a merchant-class kid and up-and-coming soldier who gave up everything to follow Jesus. He literally gave up even his clothing—in public, no less—to live in poverty among the sick and the outcast. As people heard of Francis and his friends, his “brothers,” they came to appreciate the work the men did and the spirit of selflessness with which they did it.

That’s why, when all else had failed, the people of Gubbio sought Francis to help tame the wolf. They needed a miracle, and they believed that if anyone could give them one, it would be him.

Brother Wolf

And so the story goes that Francis spoke with the wolf. He asked the wolf why he was attacking the villagers and explained what a problem that was. Francis learned about the wolf’s needs and came to understand the animal’s motivations. From there, he was able to solve the problem, and the wolf threatened Gubbio no more. Over time, the story has been changed

by some who struggle, presumably, with the supernatural elements of such a tale. Instead, they say, the “wolf” was really a madman—lupo, in Italian—who was murdering people. They say Francis talked to him, calmed him, saw his true nature, and basically “cured” him of whatever mental illness had sparked his behavior.

Whichever story is true, if either of them is, the point is clear: the crucial step in solving the problem, in taming the wolf, was to understand the real issues at the heart of the matter. The legend of St. Francis and the wolf of Gubbio is one of compassion, concern, love, and peacemaking—and it’s every bit as applicable today as it has been over the course of the past 800 years. Perhaps it’s more relevant than ever.

In each of our lives, don’t we all have a “wolf of Gubbio” somewhere in our souls? Don’t we each have some element of our personality that we need to address or some behavior we wish we could change?

How often do you say to yourself, “No one gets me”? How often do you feel alone?

There is plenty of writing and research available on the idea that—even as we grow increasingly connected technologically—real personal connection has suffered. It’s something we all probably know intellectually, but the emotional impact of it is still hard to grasp.

Loneliness leads to isolation, which can create confusion. That confusion can cause depression. And thus begins a self-perpetuating cycle in which we feel so detached from other people that we are prevented from making or renewing the very attachments our hearts crave.

A Place to Hide

Back we go to Gubbio, which is also part of another chapter in Franciscan history that speaks to us centuries later. Francis’ immediate family had relatives in Gubbio, and it was to them that Francis retreated after he had denounced his father and boldly proclaimed he would forge a new path for himself, alone.

Even Francis, whom we remember through the gauzy lens of sainthood, needed a sounding board. He needed a place to run to where he could stop, rest, think about what he had just done, and then muster the courage to move ahead. He needed, quite simply, some loving arms to embrace him and a shoulder to cry on. I love that even someone who was holy needed friends—just as I do. Francis was far from bulletproof. He hurt; he was scared; he was nervous; he questioned his own choices sometimes.

And he had friends who helped him get through all of that. In their loving reaction to him, he found an example to follow and treated others the same way. He found the strength to serve the poor and be courageous in his decisions and actions. He also found the softness to empathize with others who just needed to be heard and understood.

Being There

We all have that same capacity. Maybe we can’t all be saints, but we can be saintly.

It doesn’t take much looking to find someone in need; the opportunities to serve are around every corner, in the faces of friends, family, and coworkers. Service isn’t just about giving money or donating canned goods. Service can be about simply being present.

Be the sounding board for someone who’s struggling. Be the reassuring smile for someone whose day is terrible. Be the friend who reaches out to another when it’s been too long between phone calls. That person you miss? She probably misses you, too.

Never miss an opportunity to connect. Everyone has a story, and often the details aren’t as important as the telling of the story itself. When you understand, you can help. When you understand, you can be understood. The story of Francis and the wolf, whether it happened or not, reminds us of that.

And she’ll continue making the two-hour round trip from her home in Oldenburg, Indiana, every two months for as long as there are people who need blood. “I look at what Francis did,” Sister Damien explains. “When they didn’t have food to feed the friars, they fed the poor. I have something somebody needs; I feel like I should share it. Even if I don’t know who it’s for, it’s for someone who needs blood.”

Sister Damien can recall the time many years ago when her father was ill and needed blood while hospitalized. What would have happened, she wonders, if there hadn’t been enough donors? That’s the question she wishes more people would ask when considering whether to donate blood. She also wants to make clear that blood donation is nothing to be feared.

While she donates, she’s able to read a book and relax, and the donation center generally provides a drink or snack afterward. The technicians watch new donors closely to make sure they’re doing well, and they’ve even offered to arrange rides home if a donor is unable to drive. “They make it as easy as they possibly can,” Sister Damien says.

Sister Damien doesn’t love the attention she’s received in the past year since she passed the 80-gallon mark—her milestone was met with a celebration and local media coverage—but she’s willing to be in the spotlight if it helps raise awareness of the need for more blood donors.

“Blood is what we live with. We have to have it,” she says. “We don’t have artificial blood. Blood has to come from another human being, and it has to be someone who’s willing to get stuck by that needle and sit in that chair. What greater gift can you give somebody? It’s life!”

Over the years, Sister Damien has inspired family members, friends, and other sisters to become donors. She herself has been inspired by Francis as well as by her parents. Her parents, she says, were unfailingly generous, and her dad had a penchant for bringing home stray and injured animals. One of six children, Sister Damien says a spirit of giving was ingrained in her upbringing and has simply carried on throughout her adult life.

“You give,” she says. “If you’ve got something someone else needs, you give. As a Franciscan, I don’t feel like I own anything. It belongs to me to use, but anybody can have what they need. That’s how I feel about my blood too. That’s just the way we were raised.”

Sister Damien also was profoundly influenced by a book she read about Father Damien during a high school retreat. Father Damien, a Belgian priest, was canonized in 1995 for his work caring for a leper colony in Hawaii—which ultimately cost him his life.

Sister Damien, given the name Judith at birth, took her hero’s name when she joined her order. “I so admired Father Damien for what he did,” she says. “He took care of these people whose skin was falling off. If he can do that, the least I can do is give people something they need.”

“Followers of St. Francis” is a monthly column in St. Anthony Messenger.