Every journey begins with a call -- a whisper, a nudge, a deep knowing that something must be done. For us, that call comes from a Mother. She doesn't shout, she simply invites:

"Will you march with me?"

Our latest step in that journey took us to the quiet town of Montgomery, Minnesota. A picturesque community known for its Kolacky Days and Czech heritage--but on this day, it became something more. A battleground of grace. A small-town street transformed into a path of pilgrimage.

The Call to Adventure

We didn't show up for applause. We weren't there for politics or promotion.

We came to bring beauty.

To remind hearts of Heaven.

To reintroduce a Mother to her children.

We came with roses--handed not randomly, but intentionally.

> Only mothers were given roses. Each one was offered gently, with the sacred words:

"This is a rose from the Holy Mother of God, who loves you."

We came with candy--joyfully tossed into outstretched hands of children.

And at the center of it all, we came carrying the sacred image of Our Lady of Fatima--her gaze steady, serene, maternal.

But this was no easy march.

Into the Heat

The sun bore down like a furnace. The blacktop burned under our feet. Every step cost us something. Shirts soaked through. Faces flushed. Muscles tired.

It would've been easier to pack up and say next time.

But we remembered why we came.

Because Our Lady didn't stop marching when it was inconvenient.

She stood at the foot of the Cross.

She goes where her children need her.

And if she would walk with us, then we would march with her.

Gifts

Our team was a patchwork of the willing--young and old, families and friends. Some held banners. Others passed out roses and candy. Every smile became a channel of grace.

There were no celebrities--just saints-in-training.

And hidden behind every act of generosity, the quiet voice of Mary echoed:

> "Do whatever He tells you."

A Battle of Comfort vs. Mission

Halfway through, the heat pressed hardest. We saw it in the eyes of our team--glazed, blinking back sweat, fighting fatigue.

And that's when something powerful happened:

we didn't back down.

One marcher whispered a Hail Mary.

Another offered a rose to a tired mother on the curb.

We weren't just walking.

We were offering.

The discomfort became part of the devotion.

The heat became part of the prayer.

This wasn't just a parade.

This was prayer-in-motion.

Changed by Love

As we reached the final stretch, the crowds have clapped--not for us--but for the Queen we carried.

Children make the sign of the cross. Elders smiled. A few wept.

Seeds were planted.

That's the thing about marching with Mary:

She doesn't just go through towns.

She goes through hearts.

And those who walk with her?

> We never return the same.

March With Mary - Take up Space for God!