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!

Nutty Chicks

Almost 9 months ago, on our first day of walking across Spain together, Randy gave me this Nutty Chicks granola bar to have as my lunch.

It was the best thing I have ever tasted.

And not just because I was so ill-prepared for what turned out to be 2 days of walking through waist deep snow over and across and down the Pyrenees Mountains.

Randy told me that a woman, an ER trauma surgeon, had started the company after her coworkers loved the homemade granola that she would bring in to work every day. She started selling the granola, which evolved into these delicious bars, at farmers markets. The demand grew and soon stores were placing their orders.

A few months after I had my first Nutty Chicks bar I met the woman behind it all. It was late at night, after her shift in the ER, and she was elbow deep in granola, trying to keep up with demand.

This past weekend I met her husband. He shared with us that the people behind the Emmys had called, and then the CMAs, asking for Nutty Chicks bars for their "swag bags".

"It was huge," he said.

But it soon became apparent that his wife felt more overwhelmed than excited.

So they said "no" to the Emmys. And the CMAs. And to the company altogether. At least for now, while she continues working full time as a surgeon.

It was shocking. But I can't help but be inspired.

It's easy to hear this story and think they made a terrible mistake. To come up with all kinds of ways they could have made this work. From selling the recipe to hiring a ton of staff to quitting their day jobs in order to make it big in the granola world.

But when it comes down to it, they chose the only option that would eliminate all their stress immediately.

They said "no" to what could have been fame and fortune in order to say "yes" to what was more important -- their emotional well-being, the day jobs they feel truly called to, their relationship, etc.

Maybe some day, when they retire, Nutty Chicks will revive. At least in our local farmer's market. But for now, this delicious snack is just a memory.

home at last!

We made it! 16 days, 11 states, 4000 miles... and we're finally home!

I love the motto of my new town: "A Small Town Is Like A Big Family".

It's true of the place that I grew up and it feels true of my new home as well.

It was also true of our journey to get here. Along the way we visited my grandmother in Arkansas, my cousins (even some I'd never met!) in Oklahoma, my brother and sister-in-law and niece in Texas, and Randy's mom in New Mexico.

We are blessed that our family stretches all the way from Ohio to California!

Initially I chose not to write each day of our trip (like I did when we walked across Spain) because all of the last minute arrangements were a little overwhelming, from packing to getting the car and u-haul ready to saying so many goodbyes.

But after a couple of days I began to appreciate being able to be present to our adventure, rather than focusing on what to write and when.

I don't think I'm alone in this challenge. Figuring out how to balance being present to an experience with documenting it -- whether that be in words or selfies or something else entirely.

As a writer I feel I should have written more. But as a partner I'm grateful that my energy was focused on enjoying every moment with Randy and the family and friends and places we visited.

I think I chose the better way.

But we did take lots (lots!) of photos, so perhaps in the coming days I'll share more of our journey, now that we are home!

An unexpected love story...

The last thing I expected to learn from my walk across Spain was that I didn't trust God.

Two years ago, after my second divorce was finalized, I began to doubt that love could last a lifetime. Or, at least, I began to doubt that it was ever going to be in the cards for me.

I didn't recognize at the time that losing faith in the forever kind of love was really losing faith in God.

Shortly before going to Spain I began dating a man who I quickly and easily fell in love with. (Falling in love has never been a problem for me; it's the believing it will last forever that is the problem!)

This guy made it especially easy to love and be loved. Our relationship felt perfect. I couldn't imagine being happier.

And even though I had a hard time imagining I would ever be ready to marry him. Or anyone for that matter. I didn't see anything wrong with that.

But then I went on the Camino.

And met Randy within minutes of beginning my walk.

It wasn't love at first sight for either one of us. (He was even more cynical about love than I was, if that's even possible.)

But slowly, day by day, walking together, talking together, making decisions together, seeing the best and worst of each other, our walls began to come down. Catching us both completely off guard. And we started to have hope. And hope turned into love.

Yet, the first time he asked me to move to California I was nowhere near ready to think about forever together. And when he offered to move to Ohio I wasn't ready for that either.

I was starting to see that it would take way more faith for me to get married a third time than it did the first.

A faith I didn't have.

It wasn't until a friend of mine, also divorced, began talking about getting remarried that I realized God and I had unfinished business.

"Are you jealous?" I felt like God was asking when I had concerns for my friend. And I realized I was. Not of their relationship or upcoming nuptials, but that they trusted God enough to believe their love could last a lifetime.

I finally asked God if I could trust Him that much. Because, for the first time in a long time, I wanted to.

And God reminded me that He put Randy in my path for a reason. Not so I would put all my faith in Randy. But so I would put all my faith in God.

It was then that all my concerns, fears and doubts, washed away. And I knew I was ready. Ready to trust God completely. Ready to say yes to love. Ready to move to California.

I make the choice...

"I've made the choice to move to California," I said near the end of my sermon on "choices and consequences" a couple weeks ago.

Immediately my 5-year-old niece Tessa burst into tears. Which continued throughout the rest of the service. (Who knew the kids even listened to the sermon?!)

Afterwards she came up to me and said, "When you said you made that choice, to move to California, that made me sad. I make the choice for you to stay."

I explained to her that when you get to be my age you get to make your own choices. But that also means you are responsible for the consequences of your choices, which include missing out on family dinner nights and other fun times with her and her siblings in order to move forward with the plans God has for me.

It's a hard lesson to understand when you're 5. (Or almost 35.)

Especially when my choices directly affect her.

But I hope in the long run she will learn from this to not be afraid of making the hard choice when you know it is the right one. To not be afraid of the "what ifs", or fear change, or focus too much on what can no longer be. And instead to be brave and see all of the possibilities that open up when we take the next step forward to follow our dreams.

Real Friends Say "No", Part 2

A story to illustrate yesterday's conversation about boundaries...

I have a very good friend who was once going through a hard time. Job, health, relationships, and finances were all weighing him down.

He had been there for me during a hard time, and I wanted to be there for him too.

So when he came to me, excited about the new job he had just applied for, I shared in his excitement.

The truth is, I didn't think it was the right job for him. While he was fully qualified for the position, it seemed too political and not creative enough for his gifts. I had concerns about how it would affect him spiritually, relationally, mentally and emotionally. But he came to me looking for a friend to share in his excitement. Not one who would tell him it would never work. So I celebrated with him and kept my concerns to myself.

That is, until he asked if I would be willing to serve as one of his references.

And I had to say "no."

Actually it came out more like this: "You can list me as a reference. But if they call me I am going to tell them not to hire you."

Not very sensitive of me, I know.

He was obviously shocked, and rightfully hurt by my blatant rejection.

But because he respects me and our friendship, he allowed me to share my concerns. And because I respect him and our friendship, I left the decision of what to do about the job up to him.

It wasn't going to change our relationship if he took the job or not. It wasn't going to change our relationship whether or not he listed me as a reference. But it could have changed our relationship if we hadn't respected each others' boundaries.

He honored my boundary - that in order to be true to my word I couldn't recommend him. And I honored his - that the choice of whether to take the job or not was his alone.

In the end he didn't take the job. Because my concerns pointed him to his own uneasiness about the position.

But shortly thereafter, another job came along. This one perfectly suited for him. Where he could be creative and independent, experience growth and challenge. And truly make a difference. (He didn't ask me to serve as a reference for this one!)


Our friendship was made stronger through this experience of exercising boundaries and trust. And in the future I know that if I need help in wisdom and decision making I can call on him. Because he will be honest. Blatantly so if necessary. And I will give him the same respect.

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.

Frozen Choices

Spoiler alert! If you haven't watched the movie Frozen, go buy it and watch it before continuing!

Ever since watching the movie Frozen for the first time (and the 20+ times that have followed), my sister-in-law has been waiting for me to write a sermon about it. 

She knew it wouldn't be hard. From being the first Disney film with a female director, to having a princess NOT rescued by a handsome prince in the end, there is much talk about this movie. And many sermons have already been written on the subject.

Since Sunday was my last sermon at my home church for the imminent future, I decided it was finally time for this message. And to invite my 5-year-old nieces up front to sing "Do You Want to Build a Snowman?" and "Let It Go" for everyone's enjoyment. Well, mostly everyone. 

[Giving a 5-year-old a microphone takes a lot of faith. But they did awesome. Even Tysen who refused to sing and had her hands over her ears the whole time.]

The sermon was about choices, decisions, and consequences. Here is a quick summary of the "Frozen parts": 

Elsa's parents, the king and queen, choose to lock Elsa up so she can’t hurt anyone with her powers to produce ice and snow. It’s a choice made with good intentions because they want to protect Elsa while she learns how to control her powers. But it comes with the consequences of isolating Elsa from her family and her community, and teaching her that what makes her unique is not to be celebrated.

Elsa chooses to run away after her parents die and her abilities are exposed to the community. It is again a choice made with good intentions because it lines up with what she was taught, to protect others from herself, but again it results in her isolation and alienation and feeling like she can only be herself when she is a safe distance from others.  

Elsa’s younger sister Anna [which Tessa frequently reminded me from the congregation is pronounced "Aahh-na"] chooses to accept a marriage proposal from a prince she just met. This ends up being a really bad choice. In some fairy tales this works out for the princess, but not so for Anna ["Aahh-na"]. Prince Hans turns out to be a bad guy with bad motives which are revealed after she gets to know him a little better.

Anna ["Aahh-na"] has to choose whether to save herself or save her sister. In the end, she chooses to sacrifice herself in order to save her sister, and in turn she ends up saving the entire kingdom. This act of true love is the very best choice, even though it seems to come with the consequence of losing her own life. But lucky for Anna ["Aahh-na"], her choice to save her sister was the act of true love needed to save her own life. 

You can see how we sometimes have to choose between what is good and what is bad, or what is good and what is good, or what is good and what is best. And that regardless of what we decide, there are always consequences, positive and negative.

Christian tradition tells us that Jesus made the same sacrifice for us that Anna ["Aahh-na"] did for Elsa. [I love that we get to be Elsa in this analogy, the beautiful Queen with special abilities and unique qualities.] And that even though it meant a gruesome death for Jesus, it was still the very best choice.

To Speak or Not to Speak...

I've taken a liking to a show called Garfunkel and Oates, about two female comedians. It is pretty stupid but it makes me laugh. Which is almost always a good thing.

So there is this one episode in which the girls decide to go on a double blind date and not talk at all. In fact, they decide to keep dating these guys and see how long it takes for the guys to notice they never speak. And the girls find it strangely liberating to not have to contribute at all.

Which is kind of what God and I have been wrestling with lately.

When to speak. And when to remain silent.

While Facebook and Twitter and whatever else you kids are using these days thrive on making us believe that what we want to say should be said, and said for all the world to hear -- it simply isn't true.

And I'm not talking about telling people what you had for breakfast or that you are on your way to the grocery store. Maybe no one really needs to know that, but at least you aren't hurting anyone by saying so.

But sometimes our opinions are hurtful. Or really don't matter. And should be kept to ourselves. Especially if we are putting our noses into someone else's business where we weren't invited. Especially if our opinions are said to tear people down instead of building them up. Especially if they aren't said in love.

If I speak with human eloquence and angelic ecstasy but don’t love, I’m nothing but the creaking of a rusty gate. If I speak God’s Word with power, revealing all his mysteries and making everything plain as day, and if I have faith that says to a mountain, “Jump,” and it jumps, but I don’t love, I’m nothing. If I give everything I own to the poor and even go to the stake to be burned as a martyr, but I don’t love, I’ve gotten nowhere. So, no matter what I say, what I believe, and what I do, I’m bankrupt without love. 1 Cor 13:1-7 MSG

Did you take time to read that passage? It says even if I'm speaking straight out of the Bible, and even if my opinion is 100 percent right, but I don't speak in love, I would be better off keeping my mouth shut.

There have been many times, just this week alone, that I have wanted to express my opinion. Told someone they were wrong. Or told them they were right. Gossipped. Or given my take on an issue, even though 100 others had already done so and I had nothing new to say.

But this week (okay maybe not the whole week, but at least the last 3 days) I have kept my mouth shut. And found it strangely liberating.

In a Quaker Meeting everyone is invited to preach every Sunday. As prompted by the Holy Spirit. And that is the key -- to listen to whether this is something God wants you to share with everyone, or if it is something for you alone.

What would happen if we carried this practice over into our everyday lives?

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

simple solutions

Last week was my week to go to Quaker Knoll Church Camp in Wilmington, Ohio, to share devotions with the kids around their nightly campfires. Last year I learned that what these kids (grades 5-8) are looking for is authenticity. So during my first campfire talk I shared with them my recent struggle...

Me: Lately I've been feeling lost. Like I'm not sure what God wants me to do next. Do you have any suggestions for me?
Camper: Take a nap.
Me: Great suggestion. And if I wake up and still feel lost?
Another camper: Take a longer nap.

It's easy for me to want to over-spiritualize whatever I'm going through. To think if I just pray hard enough, read the Bible long enough, or sing loud enough then I will start to see the signs God is planting in my path. But these kids reminded me that no matter what I'm going through, Jesus is there and He is the way. And sometimes all I need in order to see that is a really long nap.

turtledoves

My turtledoves hatched while I was in California.

I've been thinking about these two birds and how they must feel listening to and watching all the other birds in the yard. Running and jumping and flying. Doing the things they were made to do. While my little squeakers (that's what you call a baby dove!) aren't yet ready to leave the nest.

Because even though they are far closer to achieving God's plan for the next stage of their life than when they were encased in egg shells, just because they hatched doesn't mean they are ready yet to fly.

This speaks to my own frustration. My longing to live into the next adventure. To explore more of the beauty, community, and opportunity beyond my front door.

But like a nestling, I have to be patient. Until it is my turn. My time. And then, soon enough, I too will be ready to fly.

blank pages

I have no idea what to write about.

It isn't writers block.
It's more like when a person retires and they don't know how to fill all of their new found time.
Or a relationship ends and you have to figure out all over again who you are without that other person.

Writing was easy when I was in Spain. There were new adventures every day. People. Food. Vistas. Pain. Determination. Kilometers that needed walked.
And it felt amazing to have such a clearly defined purpose. In life. And in writing.

But now it feels like I'm trying on all of my clothes (literally and metaphorically) to see what still fits and what doesn't. What still serves me and what I can give up.

And in the meantime I have no idea what to do with myself. Or this blog.

two questions

There are two questions that people have been asking me since I left Spain: "How was it?" and "Where are you going next?"

The first answer is easy. It was amazing. Life-changing. Beautiful. Hard. The best thing I've ever done.

The second question, however, took me off guard. I haven't even adjusted to the eastern time zone yet and already you want me to have another adventure?

But I guess you all know me better than I know myself sometimes. Because tomorrow after church I'm headed straight to the airport. Just 12 days after landing in Ohio. To spend the week in California.

I'm hoping its exactly what I need. A place to celebrate and to rest, to reflect and seek direction. A place of comfort and community. Inspiration and perhaps discovery of that next great adventure. Or at least a greater sense of peace about where I'm at.

I'll be sure to tell you all about it... as soon as I get back.

Have a blessed week everyone!!

coincidence

My sister-in-law shared with me a book called When God Winks. The gist of it is that God speaks to us through what we call "coincidences", to encourage us and let us know we are on the right path.

Last night I went to church to hear a friend of mine preach. He referred to an article about the "top regrets of the dying". He also mentioned that churches in Korea are enormous. A few months ago I did a research project for a huge church in Asia and the exact same article was part of my research.

Over the weekend I "randomly" thought about a friend of mine who I haven't seen in over a year. One of his close friends, who I haven't seen in at least 10 years, was at church last night.

Mike, who used to pastor my church, thanked me for extending my stay in Spain. I had been scheduled to speak at the end of April, but because I decided to stay 10 extra days they had to find a replacement. So they asked Ken. Meanwhile some of Mike's family was in town for a celebration and said they really wished they could hear Mike preach. Ken and Mike "happened" to bump into each other and Ken said something came up for him on Sunday. So Mike offered to preach in his place.

Doug just started dating a widow. Actually Doug is his middle name, but he has always gone by Doug. His girlfriend's husband's name was also Doug. Actually Doug was his middle name too, which he had always gone by.  

While Randy, who lives near Sacramento, and I were walking across Spain together, I worked on a marketing project with a company in Sacramento. My friend--who I went to hear preach last night--his name is Randy too.

Coincidences? Or God's way of winking?

birds

My nephew enlightened me over the weekend about cardinals. (His chosen bird for a school project because he's a Louisville fan.) They can sing up to 16 different songs and are the state bird for 7 states. (I don't know why I imagined Ohio had sole claims to this one.)

Birds are amazing creatures. Seemingly connecting heaven and earth, the human and Divine. Inviting us to spread our wings in order to reach new heights, embracing what we can see and what we can't.

Birds were very much a part of my journey across Spain.

The cuckoo bird that showed up any time we were struggling--with sickness, pain, or doubt.

The vultures that circled overhead, hoping we would give up in the Pyrenees.

Small birds with large voices and large birds that were silent. Some that floated easily on the wind, and others that struggled against it.

One man told me that he walked the Camino during a particularly hot summer and didn't hear a single bird on his journey. I don't know that I went a single moment without one making itself known.

And of course the stork. Nesting on every church top in northern Spain. "The one that brings babies" everyone called it, regardless of the country they were from or the language they spoke. The perfect symbol for what we all hoped to gain from our walk--new life, rebirth, awakening.

The stork returns to its nest, year after year, to raise its young. Just like we all returned home, after walking, to begin the process of raising up whatever new insights were birthed inside of us.

I even came home to the promise of two new turtledoves.

the in-between

In Spain, I had a clear and defined "purpose"--to walk. 

Today I am wrestling with what that clear and defined purpose is now that I am "home". If I have one. If I need one. What is next.

Or if I'm being called to stay in this "in-between" place for a while, to rest and reflect and recover. 

It is an unsettling place. The in-between. But that doesn't mean it's not right where I'm supposed to be.  

groceries

Resting, it seems, is going to take some practice.

Yesterday, instead of sitting on the couch with my feet up, I dropped my dog off with the groomer and spent the afternoon at the grocery store.

I expected to be overwhelmed by the choices. Only twice while I was gone was I ever asked if I wanted white or wheat bread, and one of those times was in Philadelphia.

I expected to have a hard time thinking about cooking for myself. Because over the past two months the most I have done is butter my own toast and peel my own oranges (and that I only started doing after Randy left).

But the thing that surprised me was how challenging it was to buy food for an entire week.

We went to plenty of grocery stores in Spain, big and small. Hit lots of fresh markets. But never bought more than what we needed for the moment. Because whatever we bought we had to carry in our packs.

One of the beautiful parts about the Camino is learning to trust each day to take care of itself. To carry only as much water as you need to get to the next rest stop. Enough fruit and granola to satisfy a hunger that may arise before the next cafe. A fresh baguette if you happened to pass the bread truck that morning. At most the makings of a sandwich if 15 or more kilometers stood between you and lunch.  

I guess it isn't practical to go to the grocery store every day or eat out for every meal now that I'm home. Especially since it would take me all day to walk to any of those places (or a 20-minute drive!).

But I think I will be more mindful of what I need each day, and what I can do without. And not just when it comes to food.

Ellie, my host in Trabadelo. Who took care of all my needs for one night:
dinner, laundry, hot shower, and a bed. And made me breakfast the next morning.

Day 63

Day 63: Home

• Flight from Philadelphia to Ohio
• Dinner with my parents
• Baseball practice with my brother, nieces and nephew
• Walk with my dog
• Wine and conversation with my sister-in-law Kari, followed by her reminding me that the tendinitis in my foot may be better but the stress fracture is not going to heal itself if I keep walking my dog

Yep, I'm officially home! 

And for the next few days you can find me dutifully resting on the couch. Reading a book (2 months without reading... I have a lot of catching up to do!). And eating peanut butter (can you imagine 2 months without peanut butter?!).

Thank you all for being a part of my journey! For walking with me across Spain. For opening your hearts to the highs and lows of this adventure. And bravely following whatever dream God is calling you to in your own life.

Animo! (You can do it!)

Ultreia! (Walk on!)

Buen Camino!! (Have a good journey!)

Day 60

Day 60: Saying Goodbye

After Saturday's sunrise in Finisterre, a traditional cleansing dip in the sea (full body for Viktor, just feet for me), and a couple breakfasts (I've finally met someone whose appetite matches mine!), Viktor and I and several others took the bus back to Santiago.

Where I bought another bus ticket to go to Madrid later that night.

Meanwhile, we had the entire afternoon free in Santiago.

Immediately upon finding our way back to the cathedral plaza, we bumped into Teresa. From America. Who Viktor had spent a couple days walking with, and who I had met my first day back on the trail and celebrated with at the 100 kilometer mark.

She had just reached Santiago and was taking in the cathedral, as well as lots of chocolate and cheese (she doesn't eat bread and says she has nearly starved because of it on the Camino!). And was finding herself a bit disillusioned by the whole thing.

"Maybe I need to keep walking. To Finisterre," she said. "I have time."

"It worked for us," we told her.

Soon Teresa and Viktor were off to find a place to stay for the evening.

"Goodbyes are the worst part of the Camino," Viktor said, grabbing me into a brotherly hug.

"Thank you for walking into Santiago with me," I said. "For helping bring my Camino to its perfect end."

That was all.

No tears. No exchanging phone numbers or emails. No promises to meet up in 2 years to do it all again.

Because the thing that made our relationship work was that it was purely spirit-led. From the moment Viktor saw me on the trail he said he knew he was meant to walk with me. We were meant to walk with each other. Into Santiago. And again we followed our hearts to Finisterre. Without feeling the least bit guilty about saving our feet by taking a taxi there and a bus back. To watch the sun go down on one journey. And come up on another.

And we wouldn't be honoring that spirit if we promised to write or to call. Because our time to walk came. And went. With a hug and a wave and a high-five. And fuller hearts.

I had time for dinner before my 21:30 bus departure, and ended up at a cafe where I bumped into Tony. He told me about his experience entering the cathedral plaza. Overcome by emotion. Tears rolling. Kneeling with his hiking poles in gratitude for such an amazing experience. Entering alone. Exactly how he was meant to.

For him, Santiago was the end of his Camino. His perfect ending.

I had given Tony my email address right before I met Viktor and walked through the night to Santiago. And we will keep in touch. With sincere promises that our homes and hearts are always open.

It was this goodbye that had me in tears. Even though we walked far fewer kilometers together than I did with Viktor. Because just like every Camino is different. So is every relationship. Every connection.

"See you," Tony said. And I hope, some day, he will.

I wondered if I could find that same reverence in Santiago that Tony did. So before heading to the bus station I stood in one corner of the plaza. Where I could see the cathedral and all the people celebrating. And a calm came over me. An invitation to be grateful for all that I have experienced in these 60 days. Learned. Fought against. Been opened to. For all those I have met. For all who cheered me along. For all who suffered alongside of me. And celebrated our victories. For all who I carried in my prayers. And for all who carried me in theirs. And to God for being with me every step of the Way.

Coming back to Santiago, it seems, was also important in bringing closure to my Camino. To take time to pause and give thanks. It's been quite a journey!