Creating a Home

Randy and I just moved into a place of our own. Yet another adventure!

When I came to visit for the month of September, the primary item on our agenda was to find a new home. Something small and homey, with room for the dog to run. Each week we looked at Craigslist and Zillow, the local newspaper and the Loomis Facebook page. We told everyone we knew and even had a local realtor friend checking on upcoming properties for us.

Finally, on the last day of September, just hours before my return to Ohio, we visited what this week became our new home.

But not without lots of minor hiccups along the way.

The current tenant hadn't yet given her landlord notice, because she was waiting for everything to be finalized with the home she had just purchased. So we didn't actually know if or when we would be moving in.

I had more than one meltdown about where I was going to work and where the dog was going to sleep and how I was going to feel about moving to California in November and living in a place that wasn't ours. Out of suitcases until this place came thru. Which prompted Randy to wonder if this was in fact the place for us, or if he should find us somewhere that we could immediately move into on or around November 10 when we'd be arriving after a 16-day road trip.

But 3 days into our trip, the last week of October while at my grandma's in Arkansas, we got word that the current tenant had given notice. We were then able to speak with the landlord, fill out a rental application, and sign a rental agreement, all over our cell phones. The place would be ours! We just had to wait until December 1.

Meanwhile, Randy had an office all setup for me in the condo he was living in, and a place for the dog to sleep. My clothes found their way into the closet and we enjoyed a comfortable three weeks together, hoping each day that the current tenant would decide to move out early so we could get in and settled.

She didn't.

In fact, she injured herself so she wasn't able to clean the place, an assignment left to her by the landlord who was out of town getting a face lift, having left another one of her tenants in charge of caring for her 35 indoor cats.

So when we finally did get into our new home we found nests of black widow spiders, earthworms creeping along the tile floors, a distinct cat smell, and two days worth of cleaning on our hands.

Nevertheless, we enjoyed cleaning side by side, creating the welcoming environment we had dreamed of.

When the day came to move in our stuff, a mix up meant Randy's suburban was not at our disposal. And there was no way we could move everything in my car.

So we went shopping! Where we found a great deal on a washer and dryer. And my credit card was promptly declined.

99 percent of the time I appreciate Capital One's fraud protection which automatically declines "unusual" purchases. But this was not one of them.

Then, at the same store, while admiring a Charlie Brown Christmas tree, we broke the one ornament that decorated its pitiful branches.

Still determined, we gathered Randy's son and another friend and made our move on Wednesday. Even while the rain poured down and my phone repeatedly alerted us to the flash flood warnings that made our new country living driveway a muddy mess and drew even more earthworms into our living room.

But here we are at last! Happily making a home. Not even letting the mountain lion that lives in our backyard deter us from loving life together!

flexibility

We learned right away we were going to have to be flexible on this journey.

The week before we were to leave, my car was in the shop to fix the minor scrape I got two months ago when I got hit in a parking lot, and to make sure it was in fact minor and not hiding something major.

It did end up being minor, but they estimated it taking until the day before we were to leave to get done.

Which meant that we wouldn't be able to get a hitch put on my car to pull the u-haul until the day we were to leave.

Which meant borrowing my dad's truck in the middle of harvest in order to pick up the u-haul so we could get it loaded while the car got worked on, and pushing our take off by at least half a day.

Then Randy missed his flight to Ohio.

Luckily the next flight had him landing just an hour later. His luggage, however, took the scenic route, through airports he never even flew through, and we had to pray it would arrive before we departed.

It did. In the middle of the night. With a loud banging on the door and a need for a signature.

The trip itself was smooth sailing compared to this rough start. But I'm glad we had it. Because it reminded us that whatever came up we would be able to handle it. That we might have to be patient. That our schedule might get changed. That we can see the delays and detours as opportunities, rather than annoyances.

You see, because we couldn't leave until Tuesday afternoon, I got to go to the airport with my little brother (who was in town visiting for the weekend) and my parents on Tuesday morning. We had the car ride and breakfast to spend time together.

And because we didn't get an early start, there were other times in the trip when we decided that we could also wait until noon to begin our driving day. Days that one or both of us had to work. A morning just hanging out with my niece Riley. Lingering over breakfast or taking Jovi (my dog) for a long walk before we spent the rest of the day in the car.

And because Randy missed his flight, my nieces had time to put on their Halloween costumes after church to go with me to surprise him at the airport. Followed by a trip to Foy's in Fairborn where we could buy them candy since we would be missing out on trick or treat.

The flexibility and patience of this trip was similar to that of our walk across Spain. Never knowing from one night to the next where we would be sleeping. Taking much longer than most to make the journey. More often than not stopping short of our daily goal. Intentionally adding miles, even when our deadline for being home was approaching.

And enjoying every step of the way!

Do I have the courage to keep showing up?

Two people I care about have been "caught" in wrong actions this year. And have responded very differently in their relationship to the church.

The first was engaging in an extramarital relationship. And when confronted, stopped going to church. Labeled that particular church judgmental. And started looking for a new church filled with people who would be excited to support and worship with the new young couple, ignorant of their history.

The second is facing criminal charges for possessing child pornography. And when confronted, showed up the next Sunday morning in desperate need of prayer. The church responded with an outpouring of love and support, and is seeking to take whatever steps necessary to make themselves a safe and welcoming place for all, which includes full disclosure.

When I was going through my second divorce, I was the person who stopped going to church. Who started looking for a new church where no one knew my story. So I wouldn't have to confront my pain in community.

When I was in college, I attended the church that was a safe space. No one pretended to be perfect, but it even went beyond that. We fully embraced ourselves as a broken people, seeking to listen and respond to God in our lives and in the world. Together.

These situations have taught me how beautiful it is to be in a place where you can be who you are. Without having to hide for fear of condemnation. And how painful it can be to be so afraid of judgment that you'd rather turn your back on your community than invite them into your struggle.

Our conversations tend to focus on how the church should respond in these situations. And, more often than not, how the church gets it wrong.

But what about how we as individuals should respond when confronted with our own shortcomings?

It takes a great deal of courage and humility to keep showing up. And we do face the possibility of being judged and condemned by a people who are called to love. But we are also doing a disservice to the church if we never challenge them to be who they say they are. And we miss out on the beauty and healing that comes when the church gets it right.

When the Game Stands Tall

Why would anyone voluntarily go up against the team with football's longest winning streak? According to Del Oro Head Coach Casey Taylor, "You get better playing the best."

And why would De La Salle, that winningest team, bother with a team like Del Oro? In the words of a De La Salle fan, whose brother is one of their longtime coaches, “Our programs are similar… it’s not about football.”

Having listened to a couple of the Del Oro pep talks the night before game day I can attest to the truth of this. Talks that focus on goals, character, discipline. On and off the field.

“So what if they have a movie out?” Coach Taylor said Thursday.

I imagine Bob Ladouceur, former head coach of the De La Salle Spartans, would have said the same thing were the circumstances reversed. In fact, he seems like the kind of guy who would say to his team, “So WE have a movie out. Who cares? That is not the measure of our success.”

I haven’t seen the movie yet, but reading the book When the Game Stands Tall tells me that the De La Salle Spartans have beat plenty of teams that towered over them, the way they towered over Del Oro on Friday night. Because they cared about one another, they played with heart, and they worked hard, together, as a team.     

And while the home team didn’t pull out an upset on Friday, instead sending De La Salle home with another big win under their belts, they did inspire an estimated 8,000 people to come together as a community to watch a little high school football.

And anything that builds community is a success in my book.

What Coach Lad did with the De La Salle Spartans should challenge us, not to be awed or intimidated by a Catholic school's football team in California, but to live exemplary lives right where we are. 

It was incredibly inspiring to see Coach Ladouceur, standing right there on the field before us with the opposing team Friday night. But so was hearing the Del Oro coaches teach their kids that “fear” stands for: Face Everything And Rise. 

Because they've figured out the same thing Coach Lad did. That they are in the position to influence these kids, and help them grow, not from boys into football players, but from boys into men.

The Natural World

Everyone in Placer County, California, loves Randy. It is amazing the love and support for him, and us. Everywhere we go, from the grocery store to the high school football game, from church to the brewery, people have heard about us walking across Spain together and want to hear it again direct from us.

It has been so much fun retelling and reliving the Camino!

But also exhausting.

So this morning we escaped the social world and went for a long walk. Just like old times!

It was the perfect day for it. A cool 65 degrees at the start and a beautiful 85 by the end, made all the more perfect by sticking our hot feet in the cold waters of the American River.

The only negative to the whole adventure was the smoke-filled air from the neighboring forest fires. Not close enough that we have to worry about them, but close enough that the air tastes like your face is pressed deep into a wood stove. The smell is especially strong first thing in the morning.

We were discussing the fires yesterday with some friends. About how they are nature's way of taking care of the earth.

It is easy to think of forest fires as a bad thing. But they are actually necessary for new growth, proper nutrients, healthy habitats for animals, and the necessary thinning of overcrowded forests.

(Think about this like purging your Facebook friends list. Eliminating the relationships that are no longer life-giving makes more room and time for new and deeper relationships, and for nurturing the growing relationships you already have.)

Not surprisingly, the problem with allowing nature to takes its course in the forest is a human one. People have moved into these woodland areas. Therefore, allowing the fires to burn out on their own would mean the loss of many homes and communities.

Of course this is just my very simplified version of the issue. But hopefully a reminder that we need to take care of our beautiful earth AND the people in it.

With special thanks to the firefighters who specialize in controlling and containing the wildfires in California!

Real Friends Say "No"

"When times get rough you'll find out who your real friends are."

I've been thinking about this statement lately. Which implies that your "real friends" are the ones who continue to hang out with you and stand by you during hard times. But I've started to wonder: what if it isn't true?

After all, aren't we all entitled to have boundaries? Boundaries that protect us emotionally and spiritually, physically and relationally. Boundaries that honor our time, our resources, and our hearts.

I am terrible at setting boundaries. In fact, for the few of you who I have ever said "no" to, feel blessed. It means that I love you and I trust you. In Tessa's words: "the most-est."

But not setting boundaries means I can end up feeling resentful and taken advantage of. It means I can get emotionally involved in problems that have nothing to do with me. I can get confused when someone gives me advice that is completely against what God is telling me. Or angry when a person continues to be critical of my choices (because even though I've never asked their opinion, no boundaries means I've also never asked them to keep it to themselves).

Of course we want to be there to support our friends when life is unfair to them, or they have made poor choices and are reaping the consequences. And of course we want our friends to be there for us when it feels like everything and everyone is coming down against us.

But that isn't always the best choice for us or our friendship.

Sometimes the best choice is to give the relationship space. To lean on God instead of one another. Or to label certain subjects of conversation "off limits". To not get emotionally tangled up in someone else's issues, and to not allow them to get tangled up in ours.

Boundaries don't give us permission to talk about people behind their backs while we are giving that relationship space, or to be critical of one another face to face expecting the relationship to bounce back once the crisis is over.

But a true friendship will respect boundaries, and not see them as rejection.

smoothed edges

Yesterday during her children's sermon, Linda talked to the kids about how rocks are rough, with jagged edges. But through adversity--being tossed around by the water and the waves--they can be made smooth. Likewise, God can use the challenges and obstacles we face in our own lives to make us more like him.

Former Buffalo Bills quarterback Jim Kelly was a hot topic last week. (Is it a "coincidence" that I visited the Pro-Football Hall of Fame for the first time recently???) Not only because of his success on the football field. Or his battle with cancer. But also because of all the good he has done for families and children battling degenerative diseases like the one his son died from.

A couple of years ago, while crafting a devotional book, I was directed to an interview that Jim and his wife gave. In it Kelly talked about his son's diagnosis, the hardship that followed, how his family had to learn to stop treating Hunter like he was going to die (even though they knew he was going to) and start showing him what it means to live (which likely contributed to him living 6 years longer than doctors expected). And Jim's devastation when his son died in the hospital 5 minutes before Jim could get there.

Obviously he wouldn't have chosen this disease for his son or their family. But instead of allowing that reality to make him bitter, he used their experience to reach out to other children and families affected by Leukodystrophies.

"My son Hunter made me the man I am today," Kelly said.

And that is a man after God's own heart. A man who has taken the challenges life has given him and used them to make a difference.

It is not part of my faith DNA to believe that God makes bad things happen. But it is my belief that he can make us stronger if we choose to trust him when they inevitably do.

I can see God using my own experiences--my mistakes, my hurts, my heartaches and my hopes--to encourage others. And I believe he wants to do the same for you.

So if you find yourself tempted toward bitterness, remember that when you offer those rough edges to God he can make them smooth. And use you to give hope to the people you walk with.

ABRA

I had just sat down in the driver's seat of my car, closed the door and put my new book purchase in my lap, when I was rocked from behind. I got out to see a man gracefully and apologetically removing his Dodge Ram from the rear panel of my car. We exchanged info; he parked and went into Walmart while his son made fun of his poor driving/parking skills, and I drove away.

Within the hour this same Walmart was evacuated. A suspected shooter was inside. The news reported from the same parking lot where I had left some of my paint on someone else's bumper.

My instinct was to pray for the man and his son. I knew nothing more of him than his name, the make and model of his vehicle, and his insurance policy number. But that wasn't nothing. That was something. I could pray specifically for this man, whose name I knew. That after hitting me in the parking lot his day didn't get a whole lot worse.

When I talked to the insurance company later they told me to go have my car looked at, that the nearest place was called ABRA.

I just opened my new book, the one that was on my lap when the man hit my car. It wasn't the book I went in to purchase. But when I couldn't find the one I wanted I bought this one instead. Doctor Sleep. Stephen King's sequel to The Shining. Wouldn't you know that Part 1 of Doctor Sleep is called: ABRA.

Isn't it strange that my car got hit outside a Walmart that was later evacuated, and the collision shop had the same name that opened the book I had just purchased?

And on my way home a black cat ran in front of my car.

I don't think the black cat has anything to do with it. I just threw it in there to remind us not to over analyze life's synchronicities.

Maybe there is some deeper meaning to all this that will eventually be revealed to me. But maybe it is just a little reminder that if we pay attention we will see these connections happen all the time, to all of us. Because there is Someone greater at work in the world.

"Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening." 1 Samuel 3

healing hurts

Two months ago my feet started to hurt. I had just walked 500 kilometers so it was kind of understandable.

Two weeks later a doctor treated me for tendinitis and told me to "be more quiet." I rested for a few days but then walked another 110 kilometers, so it was kind of understandable why my feet kept hurting.

But in the last month, since returning to the U.S., I have done a much better job of being quiet. So why do my feet still hurt?

I went to the hospital yesterday to find out.

Doctors are adorable when they get excited, so I had to laugh at mine when he said, regarding my x-rays, "Come check this out!"

He pointed out the broken bone.

But that wasn't the cool part.

The cool part was the new bone growth. Developing on both sides of the fourth metatarsal. Which nearly doubled the width of this bone. (No wonder my foot feels swollen!)

He said this is exactly what you want to see happen after a broken bone. That the healing process is progressing as it should. That I shouldn't go home and run, but I could walk as much as my foot says is okay.

Hooray!

I could talk now about how, just like my broken bone, we grow and develop and become stronger through times of trial. Putting a positive spin on the adversity that is simply part of life. But I think that denies a key point: healing hurts.

We expect to hurt at the moment an injustice occurs. A bone breaks. A loved one dies. A marriage ends. But after the point of impact we think the pain should go away. Immediately. And if it doesn't go away immediately we must be doing something wrong.

Only that isn't the case.

In reality, we continue to hurt through the healing.

Eventually it might go away. Or lessen. Maybe it will come and go with a memory, anniversary, or the rain. Or maybe it doesn't go away at all and we simply learn to live with the pain.

Regardless of what the future brings, I think it is okay to tell the truth today: healing hurts.

what is hard now

Looking back at my pictures from the Pyrenees, I am in awe of the beauty. The adventure. The wonder. I feel a sense of accomplishment. A desire to return. To conquer new mountains. And other heights. 

In the back of my mind I remember the two men, younger and in better shape than Randy and me, we met several days later in Pamplona. Who had followed in our footsteps. "We seriously thought we were going to die up there," they said. 

The paths were steep. The snow was deep. The hours kept ticking by with little sense of accomplishment. If giving up had been an option we surely would have considered it.

But all that is a distant memory. A feeling I can no longer relate to. Now I only see beauty and joy in those paths, those drifts, those feats. 

A reminder to me that what is hard now will soon be a distant memory.   

March 7, atop the Pyrenees, Spain

Day 59

Day 59: Santiago

When I met Viktor yesterday, I had already walked 26 kilometers. And he had already walked 46.

I was sitting with Tony, Andrea, and Kevin at a cafe near the albergue where they were all staying. They were trying to talk me into staying with them. Not knowing if there would even be another albergue with open beds for another 15 kilometers. Because it was once again a holiday in Spain. Their Labor Day.

But I felt drawn to walk.

And I met Viktor less than half a kilometer later.

Looking back, it reminds me of my "chance" encounter with Randy on Day 1, less than half a kilometer from the start of my Camino. Because I know God ordained exactly who I would begin my Camino with. And exactly how and who I would walk with in the end.

Viktor had planned on stopping shortly after meeting me. We began our journey in silence, and daylight, through a forest of eucalyptus trees.

But he quickly adapted to my slow pace and soon felt like he could walk "forever" if he walked this slow. (Or at least the 20k to Santiago!) So when we came to the next town, he said, "I think I want to keep walking."

By the time we stopped for dinner, we had committed, albeit mostly unspoken, to entering Santiago together. By night. THAT night.

(Kind of like Randy and me deciding to hike the Pyrenees, simply by continuing to move forward.)

And 8 hours later we did. Enter Santiago. Alongside Andres the German, who we met on the trail with 5 kilometers to go.

We were ecstatic to see the Santiago sign and stand under the archway that countless pilgrims before us have stood beneath.

But to be honest, by the time we made the long trek across town, the cathedral itself was a bit anticlimactic.

Granted, it was dark and we were exhausted. But more so, I think we realized it was not "where" we journeyed to that was important. It was "who" we walked with that made the Camino.

Walking through the night to "end" this Camino with someone who in ordinary life would be a stranger, but in Camino life is a lifelong friend after a few hours, felt exactly right.

And today the first person I saw was Kim who told me not to give up. Then, waiting in line for my certificate of completion, I saw Seth from Virginia. While storing my backpack I bumped into the Frenchman who held my hand across the streams (who is actually from Venice and speaks perfect English). And several others I had met during the last 100 kilometers.

While visiting the cathedral and attending mass felt like important "traditions" to help us feel the end of the journey, celebrating with and congratulating friends we made along the way was the best way to honor how far and how much we had all come through. Together.

Day 57

Day 57: Palas de Rey to Boente - 21.3 km

Zurghen the German rolled up beside me and hopped off his bike. "Come on," he said, "let's go for a walk."

The first thing I noticed was his tires. Different than all the other bicycling pilgrims. Because he was doing the entire route on the walking path. Since St. Jean. Including the Pyrenees.

"How long have you been like that?" he asked.

We must have been a site. Me on crutches with an orthopedic boot strapped to my back, and him walking his mountain bike beside me.

I told him I had rested a week and started walking again in Sarria.

"Wow!" he said. I thought he was going to compliment me on walking through the pain or with the crutches or something of the like. But instead he said, "I don't know how you say it in English, but not everyone is strong enough to be quiet for so long."

He reminded me of the doctor who prescribed me to "be more quiet". (I can't imagine why we don't have a direct English translation?!!)

I told him it was hard. That I wanted to give up. That I almost did.

"Only 15% of people who start in St. Jean make it to Santiago in one trip," he said. "Some because of injury, sure, but walking is the easy part. It is the mental challenges, being alone, away from home, in a different place every night, faced with yourself that makes people crack. But you didn't give up."

I understand what he is saying. While the pain was at times unbearable, the thought of it standing in the way of my goal was equally painful. As was confronting the pride, competitiveness, and fear of failure that came with that. And the disappointment I imagined you all having at this journey ending short, or on a bus.

Being quiet is hard! But important if we ever want to have all that we were made for.

Zhurgen told me he had the same challenges--of so much time alone--on the bike. So he takes time each day to walk a little with others. Especially on terrain like the small hills we were currently climbing.

"What about all the big hills?" I asked. Those would be the ones I would walk!

"The big ones you know are coming, so you can prepare in your mind for them. It's the small ones that rock you."

True. I expected the journey to be hard. Mountains to climb. Blisters to endure.

But there has been so much that you can't prepare for. Becoming best friends in a matter of hours. And then having to say goodbye. Hard things happening at home and not being able to do anything about it. Trusting the arrows. And the guidebook. Feelings of accomplishment, disappointment, isolation, and pure joy. All in the same day (or hour!). The thrill and sadness of knowing Santiago will be here by the end of the week...

After Zurghen climbed back on his bike, to arrive in Santiago later today, I met another cyclist who had rested a week in the midst of his journey after having an accident coming down one of the hills. His expected 10 day journey will now be 17.

These last few days have been incredibly insightful. I'm so grateful for all the people who have walked with me, taught me, encouraged and inspired me. I can't believe we are only 46 kilometers from Santiago!!

Day 54

Day 54: Samos to Sarria - 13.6 km by taxi; Sarria to Barbadelo - 4.2 km ON FOOT!!

Juan drove me to Sarria late this morning and I asked him to drop me off at the bottom of town. He told me I didn't need to climb all those steps, but I insisted. If the other pilgrims were going to have to climb 50+ steps to get lunch then so was I.

And I was met with a beautiful site at the top... my new friend Aeren from yesterday! She waved me over and introduced me to Kim from Korea who started in St Jean the same time she did.

After teasing me that I don't eat like a pilgrim who takes a taxi, Kim made sure to leave me with these words before he left us: "Whatever you do, don't give up. Even if you are taking the taxi or the bus, don't give up."

I needed this reminder that my attitude was my choice. And I could either finish my journey with joy, or I could end feeling defeated.

So I started walking. Looking for a place to stay in Sarria that felt good to my soul. And found myself leaving town.

I was about to pick up the dirt path when a local woman stopped me.

She told me the terrain was rough, muddy, and very steep. And added, "Es imposible con las muletas."

Impossible on crutches? Impossible?

It was just the kick in the pants I needed to stop feeling sorry for myself and do something about it.

She was still shaking her head when I started my muddy walk, singing "I can do all things..." (Matthew West, "Strong Enough"), reminding myself that it is in God's strength that all things are possible.

(Don't worry Mom. I had Juan the taxi driver's cell phone number just in case!)

And even if these are my last kilometers, I can honestly say I enjoyed, celebrated, embraced every last muddy, steep, rough step of the day and the pilgrims I had the pleasure to walk with!

Day 53

Day 53: Las Herrerias to Samos by taxi - 39.9 km

I woke up to pouring rain, high winds, and cold temperatures. I felt for my fellow pilgrims, but was equally jealous of the adventure that awaited them. A difficult mountain climb. But by now their legs and feet are strong. Unlike mine.

Victor had offered to take me up the mountain on horseback. But because of the weather, he called me a taxi instead.

David showed up and opened his passenger door. We sat side by side, listening to Rihanna and Eminem, while he gave me the tour of the small towns I would otherwise be walking through. In addition to driving, he also owns a bar, has a graphics design degree, and works for a dentist. And one of these days he will come to America and drive Route 66. He was a good driver (ie. I didn't get car sick), so I would happily ride along for this adventure!

He promised the weather would be better in Samos and he was right. The sun came out and I was able to walk the monastery grounds. I so miss long hours spent outdoors!! I didn't even realize how much.

I went on a tour of the monastery with 20 others, pilgrims and tourists. Despite the fact that half of them spoke English or Spanish (the rest French), no one talked to me. But plenty stared and talked about me.

I'm no stranger to crutches and wheelchairs. And how these are somehow an invitation to be ostracized and ogled.

So I was especially grateful to meet Mazen and Erin on the way to Mass later.

Mazen (Syrian, living in France) and I bonded when he took off his shoes and socks to show me the skin on the bottom of his feet had peeled off in one long strip. I wanted to look away because it was so disgusting, but I also longed to be seen in my hurt. And to do so I must see others in theirs.

Erin and I bonded when she told me she stepped wrong off a curb and sprained her ankle.

"The same sufferings are experienced by your brotherhood in the world..." (1 Peter 5:9)

Erin (Puerto Rican, living in Texas) had coffee with me while I ate dinner and explained what I hadn't understood at Mass. The message was about doubting Thomas. And how we can't say we don't believe if we don't give God a chance. Just like seeing a man with long hair doesn't prove that barbers don't exist, seeing humans fail to represent God doesn't prove that God doesn't exist.

Erin and I talked for hours about our journeys, heartaches, and how God has directed us along the Way. It was so nice to connect deeply with someone again about things that really matter!

Day 52

Day 52: Bus from Ponferrada forward to Las Herrerias - 45.4 km, followed by a 1 km walk down into the village

I have to admit. Not being able to walk has been a real struggle.

I never thought I would miss staying in albergues with dozens of sweaty, snoring pilgrims who get up at 6 a.m. But being in a hotel off and on for almost 2 weeks has become very isolating. And even though I see pilgrims every day I don't feel I can relate any longer to the struggle of early mornings and long afternoons, the refreshing taste of a cold beer or the stomach that is never quite satisfied.

And the absolute worst thing you can do when you aren't feeling well is to be alone, feeling sorry for yourself.

It is easy to think that the Camino was easier when Randy was here. So to put things in perspective I have tried to think of all the hard times we went through together.

There was the time we were so tired and sore that we walked right past the albergue and wandered around town for several kilometers before some neighborhood kids helped us find our way back.

And the time I was mentally exhausted. To the point that we literally sat on the side of the road. For hours. In silence. Until Randy offered to carry my sleeping bag. And somehow that made everything better.

I can't even begin to describe the emotions the day we thought he was going to have to go home early because of a work conflict.

There were many nights we spent rubbing each others sore feet. Shoulders. Heads.

I had to get used to resting every day with just one kilometer to go, because his toe always let us know we were close. And he avoided looking at me for a week after I busted the blood vessels in my eyes.

We both wanted to give up in the Pyrenees. But luckily we didn't know each other yet. So instead of comforting one another, we only laid down in the snow in defeat when alone, and worked harder when the other was looking.

And to be honest, the littlest things can feel insurmountable when you are tired. Dinner presented to you with head and scales still in tact. Your credit card being declined. Showers on timers. And no butter for your toast.

And this is just a taste of the hardships we endured. Together.

While this trip down memory lane does make me feel better about my circumstances, it is also a reminder that I need to keep moving forward. Rather than dwelling on the past or the vision I had for the future.

Because I can't change any of that. But I can choose to enjoy the rest of my time here. Even if I have to do it on a bus, with crutches instead of hiking poles, and a different kind of boot!

Day 50

Day 50 - Resting (against my will) in Ponferrada

For the past 50 days I have been singing the lyrics "Make me broken, so I can be healed, Cause I'm so calloused, And now I can't feel, I want to run to You, With heart wide open, Make me broken" (Sidewalk Prophets, "Keep Making Me") as a prayer while I walk.

Stupid, right? Who prays to be broken?!!

Because God always answers prayer. And obviously He would answer me literally on this one!

A while back, Suzie sent me this quote from Kathleen Norris: "Prayer is not asking for what you think that you want, but asking to be changed in ways that you can only imagine."

I thought I wanted to be broken, empty, lonely, like the song says, so that God could heal me, fill me, comfort me. But as soon as I hurt I prayed for it all to go away!!

Not that I shouldn't have. After all, BEFORE Jesus prayed for God's will to be done, He prayed to be spared.

So my challenge today has been to pray for healing, but in the meantime to be open to learning and receiving whatever it is He has to teach me through this. To be changed, healed, and filled in ways I can't even fathom.

And as I consider the prayers I am holding for you, those you shared with me before I left and those that have come to me along the way, I know that God's answers for you are bigger than any prayer I could ever pray. That He will do mighty things in you and through your circumstances.

Please keep sharing your prayers and His answers with me and with others. Because if I have learned anything on this journey it is that we must participate, deeply and authentically, in the communities we are blessed to be part of.

Thank you for being part of my community and for all your thoughts and prayers while I wait "patiently" (try to anyway!) on the Lord!

Day 49

Day 49: Bus ride, 33.6 km back to Ponferrada

This post could actually be titled "what I didn't tell you yesterday".

Which is that when I stopped to ice my foot, it was because I couldn't bear weight any longer. And even though I did feel better walking 5 kilometers beyond that, I stopped in Trabadelo because it had a pharmacy, which I wasn't expecting for another 50 kilometers.

And while waiting for the pharmacy to reopen after siesta (just because it says 16:00 doesn't mean the pharmacist will actually be there before 16:30), a man came up to me and asked what hurt.

I had just been praying for God to give the doctor/pharmacist wisdom and understanding when this man appeared. He looked Asian, wanted to speak German, but his English was far better than he gave himself credit for.

"Can I look at your foot?" he asked. "I am doctor."

So right there on the side of the road I received a medical exam.

"Look how swollen. No walking for one week. And go to hospital. You need x-ray. You understand? Walk tomorrow and it fracture, if not already."

By the time I had my shoes back on he had disappeared. Replaced by the pharmacist, who gave me a 20-day supply of Diclofenac for 3 euros.

Which is how I ended up on a bus today to the nearest hospital, back in Ponferrada (remember this town?? Where I took Rowena to the clinic!). It took an embarrassingly short 20 minutes and 2 euros to get there.

Peter told me last night about having to take a cab back 20 kilometers because he forgot his passport at the previous albergue. How humbling it was to make the roundtrip in 30 minutes when he had "slogged" all day to do it on foot.

Humbling indeed! It was ages ago when I came through Ponferrada!!

Long story short, I didn't get an x-ray. But the doctor did say I have an inflamed tendon in my foot. He gave me meds to take 3 times a day. Made me a soft cast from foot to knee. And I have instructions to "be more quiet" (don't walk) for "as long as it takes". Which the nurse says could be days or weeks.

The cab driver who picked me up from the hospital said I needed to stay somewhere nice tonight, to feel better. He drove me to the castle, walked me across the street to a hotel, and told the receptionist to take good care of me.

So here I am, across the street from a castle, figuring out my next steps, which apparently don't involve walking...

Day 43

Day 43: Ponferrada to Cacabelos - 15.5 km

Yesterday I repeatedly bumped into a woman who kept saying, "Next time, I'm going to stay in this cute little town... I keep saying that. 'Next time.' I guess I have to come back!"

And all I could think was, What kind of crazy person would put themselves through this TWICE?!

Today I walked with a Korean young man who wasn't having nearly as much fun as she was. Granted it was 80 degrees and sunny today and 50 degrees and cloudy (much better for walking!) yesterday. But he was also pushing himself to do 31 kilometers when he had been doing a more comfortable 17 a day for the first half of his journey. So he was hot and tired and sore, with mountains to climb looming in the distance.

I think we are all feeling the "push" to reach Santiago, now just under 200 kilometers away!

These experiences remind me that there is both beauty and hardship in following our dreams. God places big dreams in all of our hearts. But to pursue those dreams means having to endure trials, heartbreak, suffering, challenges... in addition to getting to experience mountain top moments, breathtaking beauty, eternal reward.

If it was easy, more people would pursue their dreams!

But many people don't want to go through everything it takes to get there.

Luckily God places others on our journey to help encourage us, walk with us, to remind us never to give up, to tell us that God will be with us every hard and beautiful step of the way, to tell us it will be worth it when our dream is realized.

While walking out of Ponferrada today, dozens of people encouraged me on my way. "Buen Camino!" they said. Several patted me on the shoulder and told me to 'go with God' or 'keep walking' or 'see you later'. One man told me he walked this Way 5 months ago and it was beautiful.

My family too continues to be a huge source of encouragement. Texts and messages from both my sisters-in-law. Phone calls to my parents. Randy continuing to cheer me on from California. Aloys reminding me that he is just ahead of me (by 50 kilometers or so!) if I need anything.

And all of you who Walk With me on this journey, by reading, commenting, sharing, and considering what God is calling you to.

It won't be easy. But I promise you it will be worth it!  

Day 42

Day 42: Acebo to Ponferrada - 17 km

Rowena was sitting outside the first bar I came to when I walked into the city of Ponferrada.

Early this morning she had stopped and allowed me to pass her on the gorgeous trail, winding its way through a beautiful valley, rich with birds and bugs, lizards and giant chestnut trees. But we had only smiled at one another as I passed.

This time, however, she called out to me. "Do you speak Spanish?" she asked in English.

My brain struggled to comprehend what she was saying, and how to respond. In English? Or in Spanish? So I said, "Yes, sí. Y tu? Do you?"

"No," she said, "But I've injured myself and need to go to hospital." (Rowena is from Scotland, so she says things like 'go to hospital'.)

Which is when I realized she wanted me to help her get there. Because she didn't know how to ask. And by the look of her leg, which was cherry red and swollen nearly twice its normal size, she definitely needed to go.

So I said to the old man sitting nearby, "Esta un hospital circa de aqui? Le duele la pierna."

Sometimes the words are the same in English and Spanish, you just have to pronounce the vowels correctly to be understood. So hospital, for example, sounds like hose-pee-tal.

The man consulted two other men. They started to give us directions but I interrupted to ask if it was close by. They consulted each other again and thought it was maybe one, no maybe two kilometers. Yes probably two kilometers, or maybe a little more. I looked from the man to Rowena's leg and back, which is when he offered to call a taxi.

While waiting for the taxi, Rowena and I took the time to introduce ourselves, talk about what was going on with her leg, and how long we had both been walking. She's been walking the Camino off and on for 15 years, coming for holiday to do different stretches of it. This time she started in Leon, had gotten a sunburn 4 days ago, and it progressively got worse to where she now couldn't bear to walk any further.

I told her I would go to the hospital with her and she responded, "You don't want to go in a taxi, do you?"

A week ago I might have agreed with her, that riding in a taxi was "cheating" on the Camino, but I'm getting less and less devoted to the 'I must walk' mindset with each passing day. Besides, we were only a kilometer (tops) away from the albergue. And since Randy left it has been ever present in my mind that if I had to go to the hospital I would likely have to go alone. Which would be miserable. And I didn't want anyone else to have to go through that.

So when the taxi arrived we both got in.

The hospital was most definitely more than 2 kilometers away. But once there they took good care of us, getting Rowena in right away to see the doctor, who could understand some English but not speak it, but whose nurse did speak a little English. Between the four of us we managed quite well!

(It's amazing how much you can say by pointing. Rowena pointing at her leg and then toward the sun. The nurse pointing at my medical bracelet when she wanted to know if Rowena was allergic to anything. The doctor pointing at his pants to tell her to keep her legs covered from now on.)

After Rowena was told only to walk if it didn't hurt, and making a quick stop at the pharmacy next door, we took another cab back to the albergue, where we checked in for the night. And Rowena introduced me to everyone as her "guardian angel".  

Obviously to me it didn't feel like I did anything extraordinary. (I hope anyone would do the same!)

But I can see how it would seem to Rowena that God placed me specifically--someone who spoke Spanish, English, and was willing to ride in a taxi--on her path in her moment of need.

So, I can say, I'm grateful too that God chose to use me!

Day 41

Day 41: Rest day in Acebo - 0 kilometers!!

Today was the first true rest day I have taken on my journey.

Yes, Randy and I took two "rest" days, one on Day 11 in Estella and another on Day 21 in one of the many Villafrancas ("home to the Franks") we passed/will pass through. But in Estella we walked 10 kilometers roundtrip to the wine fountain, and on Day 21 we hiked out to a gorge, climbed a dam, and scaled a mountain just to have a picnic in a cave.

Not exactly a "rest" as far as my body is concerned.

So today I decided (actually my foot decided for me) that I deserved a day of no walking.

I am staying in a "bbb" (a bed above a bar that serves breakfast). And I have literally stayed in bed (or on my balcony) all day, except to go downstairs for breakfast (coffee and toast), lunch (a ham and cheese sandwich), and dinner (salad, steak, and a bottle of wine).

Making the decision to take a day off of walking was a difficult one for me. Even after all the sympathy I received yesterday from the pilgrims who passed me on the trail as I limped my way up and down the mountain pass. (I'm especially grateful to the Javier Bardem lookalike who told me walking the road would be better for me than taking the path. "Los piedras estan muy mal por sus pies." He was right!!)

Every day I am getting closer to the end of my time here. And yet there is still so much to see and do. I don't want to waste it resting.

But I don't want to be stupid either. If resting today means I'll be able to enjoy my walk tomorrow, then it is worth it.

It's all part of the journey...

To make myself feel better about resting, I pulled out my map of Spain and blacked out the path I have already traveled: 558.2 kilometers. With just a little over 200 kilometers to go to get to Santiago.

Maybe I do deserve a rest!

"Dear brothers and sisters, when troubles come your way, consider it an opportunity for great joy. For you know that when your faith is tested, your endurance has a chance to grow." James 1:2-3 NLT