A Pilgrimage That Wasn’t: St. Mary of the Springs
A Pilgrimage That Wasn’t: St. Mary of the Springs
By: a.d. elliott | Take the Back Roads - Art and Other Odd Adventures
While I was in Hot Springs, Arkansas, I stopped by St. Mary of the Springs for a pilgrimage, and it did not go according to plan.
St. Mary of the Springs is one of the oldest continuous Catholic presences in Arkansas. As early as 1850, priests began traveling into the Ouachita Mountains to minister to the steady stream of visitors arriving in search of the healing waters. Long before the bathhouses and hotels were built, people had already begun making their way to Hot Springs, hoping that the natural springs might offer relief where medicine had failed.
The Catholic Church followed them.
The parish took the name Mary, Mother of God, as its patron while also honoring the springs that defined the town itself. While there was always a small population of local Catholics, the parish’s mission was never entirely local. St. Mary of the Springs existed largely to serve the transient population: travelers, laborers, and the sick who had come to Hot Springs seeking relief.
For many of those visitors, their stay was not long.
Because so many came to the city when their health had already begun to fail, the priests of St. Mary of the Springs often found themselves called not for weddings or baptisms, but for the quiet work of accompaniment at the end of life. Confession, anointing of the sick, and the final reception of the Eucharist—the sacraments often called “last rites”—were among the most common ministries offered by the parish. It was a church accustomed to meeting people at the far edge of hope.
I’ve been struggling a bit with hope lately.
Something about modern life, however, has quietly changed the way we encounter sacred spaces. Churches that once remained open throughout the day now often unlock their doors only briefly before Mass. The reasons are understandable: fewer staff, growing security concerns, and the realities of insurance and liability, but the effect is still unsettling. The pilgrim arrives expecting a place of refuge, only to find a locked door and a small sign listing the next available hour.
St. Mary of the Springs was no different.
Like many historic churches, the doors are opened only for a short while before Mass begins. The evening Mass was scheduled for 5:30, and by the time I had wandered around the grounds, taken a few photographs, and sat quietly near the shrine to Our Lady of the Springs outside, I realized I simply did not have the strength to wait that long.
As I am still learning how to manage the new diagnosis of Graves’ disease, and its complications with my already complicated medical history, I could feel my body beginning to shut down.
So I never made it to Mass. Perhaps it simply wasn’t my time for this particular pilgrimage.
After all, St. Mary of the Springs has long been a church where people arrived when the road had nearly run out. Despite the current health issues and the lingering uncertainty that comes with them, perhaps this was simply not the moment for that kind of a pilgrimage, and most certainly isn't the time for last rites.
xoxo a.d. elliott
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About the Author
a.d. elliott is a wanderer, photographer, and storyteller traveling through life
She shares her journeys at Take the Back Roads, explores new reads at Rite of Fancy, and highlights U.S. military biographies at Everyday Patriot.
You can also browse her online photography gallery at shop.takethebackroads.com.
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