When Our Footsteps Become a Prayer

By Kevin Hensley
My wife, Thi Van, and I joined the Walk for Peace together. My first thought is simple: if there is another Walk for Peace, I will absolutely join again.
The first time I joined the Walk, in Mississippi, I came to see if this was real. I wanted to experience it for myself. And yes, I found out that it was real. But I wasn’t prepared to fully embrace what I was experiencing. I needed to come back again.

The second time, we met the monks in Alabama, just outside Selma. We arrived before lunch and waited for them to come. I remember Bhikkhu Paññākāra giving a speech about his time spent in Selma. He spoke about a sadness he felt there.
The route from Selma to Montgomery carries a deep history connected to the Civil Rights Movement. There was a certain energy there—a feeling of sadness.
As we walked, I prayed and chanted. I prayed that our footsteps would somehow bring this sadness to peace and give it the rest it deserves.
Our time in Montgomery exposed me to parts of American history that I knew very little about. Learning about that history and the struggles and conflicts surrounding it was deeply concerning and humbling for me.
The Walk for Peace may not have touched everyone, but I believe it has made an impact on many people. Perhaps, with our efforts, we can help people find their inner peace. Maybe we can also help places that carry painful histories finally rest in peace.
Walking with venerable monks gave me a sense of belonging. It felt as if I was part of a brotherhood. And for those moments, we were all walking together toward the same hope: peace.
Thank you so much for this experience and for having us.