On a road trip a few springs ago, I visited quite a few of the old California Spanish missions; each has its own piece of the story of Spanish colonization, exploitation of native people, religious conversion—voluntary or otherwise—and later struggles over ownership of the land.
After a while, it felt almost as if the history and artifacts were playing in a loop.
But at the last stop on my personal pilgrimage, the Mission of San Juan Capistrano, it felt different. Not the displays or the story, but the pleasant outdoor garden and courtyards.
A fruiting orange tree and colorful spring blossoms invited me for a pleasant hour, wandering a bit and then just sitting and reading for a while.
I know that’s not the reasons the missions exist, far from it, and I’m still not a believer, but I’m still grateful for that afternoon respite.
