Imagine trying to explain this place to someone who has never seen it. “It’s a farm.” Okay. “There is a school.” Sure. “A sawmill.” Fine. “There is also a 38-foot cross on the mountain because thousands of people have come here over reports of visions of the Virgin Mary.”
That is where the explanation usually gets complicated. This Alabama property has drawn pilgrims and curious visitors since 1988, earning the nickname “Mejabama” from the comparison people make to Medjugorje.
The grounds are otherwise surprisingly down-to-earth, with working buildings, a broad gathering field, and a gravel road climbing toward the ridge. It is an unusual combination of the everyday and the extraordinary.
The Cross That Weighs Three Quarters Of A Million Pounds
Concrete does not usually inspire awe, but this cross manages it.
Rising 38 feet above Penitentiary Mountain, the structure was finished in 2013 after roughly six months of labor by the resident community, who handled the excavation themselves and poured a foundation engineered to hold a three-quarter-million-pound load.
The design copies the famous cross on Cross Mountain in Medjugorje, Bosnia-Herzegovina. Around the property it goes by another name, the Cross for the Soul of America.
Scale is the part photos never quite capture. From the field below, the cross looks like a neat white mark against the treeline, almost modest.
Get within a few yards of the base and the proportions flip completely, with the arms stretching far overhead and the concrete surface holding warmth from the afternoon sun.
Weather changes the whole mood of it. Morning fog rolling off the Shelby County hills can swallow the lower half, leaving the top hovering, while a clear evening turns the whole thing amber.
Bring a wide lens if photography matters to the trip. Standing back near the treeline gives the best sense of height without cutting off the top.
Take a minute at the base before heading down. Most people do, and the quiet up there is genuinely different from the quiet in the parking lot.
Fourteen Stations Along The Climb Up Penitentiary Mountain
The walk up is the point, not just the destination. Stations of the Cross line the path from the base of Penitentiary Mountain to the summit, spacing the climb into fourteen natural pauses that break what would otherwise be a straight uphill push.
Pilgrims move slowly here. Some pray at each marker, others simply catch their breath and look back at how much of the valley has opened up behind them.
Footing varies with the season. After heavy Alabama rain the trail turns soft and slick in spots, and sneakers with worn tread will not cut it, so proper shoes with grip make the whole experience less of an adventure than intended.
Summer heat is the real challenge. Shelby County humidity in July can feel like walking through warm soup, and the tree cover thins near the top exactly when the sun is strongest.
Water bottles are essential. Two per person is not overkill in warm months.
Early morning is the sweet spot, cooler air, softer light, birdsong instead of cicada roar. Families with young children often turn the stations into a counting game to keep small legs moving.
The descent goes fast, which surprises people. Knees appreciate a slower pace, especially on the steeper sections closer to the field.
The Field Where Thanksgiving Day 1988 Changed Everything
Grass, benches, and a whole lot of open sky. The Field of Apparitions sits directly below the mountaintop cross, and it earned its name in November 1988 when Marija Pavlovic, one of the six young visionaries from Medjugorje, reported a vision here on Thanksgiving Day.
Word traveled fast. Crowds arrived from across the South and beyond, and the field went from ordinary Shelby County pasture to a destination almost overnight.
What makes the space unusual is its openness. There are no gates, no ticket window, and no closing hour, since the field stays accessible around the clock, every day of the week.
People show up at odd times because of it. A car pulling in at eleven at night is not strange here.
The Community of Caritas gathers in the field daily for the rosary at 5:00 AM, then again at 10:00 AM in winter and 11:00 AM in summer, timed to match the apparition hour in Medjugorje. Visitors are welcome to join or simply sit at a distance.
Bring a folding chair or a blanket if a long stay is planned. Ground seating fills up when groups arrive.
Mosquito repellent belongs in the bag from May through September, no question about it.
Inside The Bedroom Of Apparitions
An ordinary bedroom in an ordinary house is not where most people expect a pilgrimage to lead. Yet the room inside Terry Colafrancesco’s home became the heart of this entire site after Marija Pavlovic stayed there in 1988 and reported apparitions of the Virgin Mary within its walls.
The name stuck. Visitors and community members alike call it the Bedroom of Apparitions.
Counting has been careful over the decades. More than 200 reported apparitions have occurred through Marija at locations across the Caritas property since 1988, and 148 of those are tied specifically to this one small room.
Access is not a walk-in situation. Seeing the interior generally happens through the private tours the community arranges, so calling ahead saves a wasted drive out to Sterrett.
The space itself is plain, which catches some people off guard. No soaring ceilings, no marble, just a modest room in a residential house.
Photography rules can vary depending on the tour, so asking first is the polite move. Voices drop naturally once inside anyway.
Whatever a visitor believes walking in, the contrast between the room’s plainness and its reputation is genuinely striking. That gap between the everyday and the extraordinary is the thing most people remember afterward.
A Working Farm, A Sawmill, And A Gift Shop Walk Into A Hilltop
Chickens, lumber, and rosaries share the same zip code out here. The Caritas campus grew well past its original house, and today the property includes a farm, a working sawmill, a school, a gift shop, and the Tabernacle of Our Lady’s Messages.
It functions like a small village. Volunteers live on site and keep the operations running day to day.
The publishing arm surprises first-time visitors most. From this rural corner of Shelby County, newsletters, books, and CDs go out to millions of households worldwide, which means the mailroom is busier than the average Alabama farm office.
The gift shop is worth a stop even for the merely curious. Shelves hold devotional items, printed materials, and small handmade goods produced on the property.
Sawmill noise drifts across the grounds on weekdays. It is an oddly grounding sound next to all the quiet prayer.
Wandering the campus gives a fuller picture than the field alone. Garden rows, outbuildings, and equipment sheds show a place built on manual work as much as devotion.
Comfortable shoes help since the grounds spread out over a good stretch of hillside. Plan for more walking between buildings than a typical church visit would require.
Why Pilgrims Started Calling It Mejabama
Nicknames tell you a lot about a place. Somewhere along the way, visitors began calling this stretch of Shelby County Mejabama, a mashup of Medjugorje and Alabama, and others simply call it the Medjugorje of the west.
The label caught on because the connection runs deep. Terry Colafrancesco founded Caritas in 1986 after his own pilgrimage to Medjugorje, where six young visionaries first reported apparitions in 1981.
Marija Pavlovic has returned to the Alabama property repeatedly over the years, and those visits reliably draw large crowds to the field. License plates in the lot come from far outside the state.
Language mixes in the crowd too. Groups arrive from different regions and countries, and the rosary sometimes carries several accents at once.
Followers know the founder as A Friend of Medjugorje, the name used across the organization’s publications.
For travelers interested in how religious movements take root in unexpected places, the story here is a compelling one regardless of personal belief. A Bosnian pilgrimage tradition transplanted to the Alabama pine woods is not something most road trips stumble across.
Chatting with other visitors in the field often fills in details no brochure covers. People are usually happy to share why they made the drive.
Planning The Drive Out To Sterrett
Twenty miles southeast of Birmingham does not sound like much until the four-lane highway gives way to rolling two-lane roads.
Sterrett sits tucked into Shelby County, and the final approach to 100 Our Lady Queen Peace Dr passes farmland, hardwood stands, and very little in the way of storefronts.
Fuel up before leaving the city. Options thin out considerably once past the interstate exits.
Cell service can get patchy in the hills, so downloading the route ahead of time prevents a frustrating loop through back roads. Paper directions still work fine out here.
Timing matters more than most visitors expect. Arriving before the morning rosary means quieter grounds and cooler air, while late afternoon gives the cross its best light for photos.
Private tours require arrangement in advance rather than showing up and hoping. The field, however, stays open all hours for anyone who wants to sit a while.
Worth knowing before the trip, the Diocese of Birmingham states that Caritas has no official sanction or connection with the Catholic Church, and the Vatican permits devotion tied to Medjugorje without declaring the apparitions supernatural.
Pack water, sturdy shoes, and a hat. Alabama sun on an open field shows no mercy in midsummer.
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