lean into grief

"I didn't miss the sad story, did I?" Kelli asked, returning from the ladies room.

"She's right in the middle of telling it," I said, surprised she would want to hear again the story that just weeks ago had dissolved her into tears.

We were at a women's brunch at the church, listening to Nichole Nordeman share in story and in song. Word for word, song for song, the same set we had listened to last month during the Women of Faith conference in Sacramento. (And it was just as powerful the second time.)

The sad story was about a young couple, deeply in love, who asked Nichole to sing at their wedding. Shortly thereafter the groom was diagnosed with cancer and within the year Nichole was singing again, this time at his funeral.

When Kelli had dissolved into tears beside me the first time I had only known her for about 3 hours. So even though I wanted to wrap her up in a hug, I didn't. This second time, however, I knew her enough to put my arm around her, exchange a little conversation and some shared tears.

Kelli's own son had met and fallen in love with and married a young lady, beautiful all the way to her core. And earlier this year, still in her 20s, his beautiful bride passed away.

It struck me that Kelli would want to feel the grief inspired by the similar story that Nichole shared. Isn't grief a feeling most of us try to avoid? And yet Kelli has discovered, I think, a secret that might better serve us. That to lean into the grief, to feel the feelings, is where healing comes.

In addition to being Kelli's daughter-in-law, the young woman who died was also Randy's niece. During our family Thanksgiving prayer last month, his brother named the sadness that we all felt at her absence from us, but the joy that would come when one day we would be with her again.

Again it strikes me that the grief would be named, felt, shared, rather than being the elephant in the room or the thing that everyone knows not to talk about.

I'm heartbroken for this family's loss, but grateful that through it they are teaching me how healing comes.

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.

halfway there!

Randy, Jovi, and I are halfway thru our road trip, moving me from Ohio to California.

We've been to the Arch in St. Louis, grandma's house in Arkansas, lunch with cousins in Oklahoma, a Cowboys game in Arlington, and to the beach with my niece, brother and sister-in-law in Corpus Christi.

Not exactly the most direct route to Loomis, California, but worth every extra mile!

This journey reminds me of our walk across Spain, which began exactly 8 months ago today.

We are taking it slow, in order to enjoy the people and the places. We are talking a lot, learning how to communicate our own needs and meet the needs of the other. We are eating tons of good food, from ribs in St. Louis to pizza in Oklahoma to BBQ brisket in Texas.

And we are recognizing that there is so much to learn in the process of the journey, not just the destination!

Realizing A Dream

My crazy beautiful friend Colette got married last Thursday and is now on her honeymoon in Israel. She's been praying hard for months that they would feel safe enough to go through with this adventure in the midst of all the violence in the Holy Land. And their faith has proven strong. They even got baptized in the Jordan River earlier this week, just like Jesus once did.

So many things struck me during their wedding, which was personally and uniquely designed.

The very first charge that the pastor gave was not to the bride and groom, but to the guests. About our role in supporting and nurturing this young couple. And when asked who gives this bride the response was, "We all do."

Often times we go to weddings because they are beautiful and filled with an as-yet-untainted love that inspires us. We get a chance to dress up and dance and eat delicious food. And we know one, or sometimes both, parties. But we should take seriously what it means to be present when vows are shared. It means we believe in this couple, that God has brought the two together, and we are willing to be encouraging and supportive to them in their lives together. And if necessary remind them when they are veering off course.

Quakers emphasize this role by having the entire guest list sign the marriage certificate, not just the officiant.

Colette, as I mentioned a few weeks ago, is from Ferguson, Missouri. She is African American. And her new husband is Caucasian. The couple decided they wanted to end their wedding ceremony with a video of Martin Luther King Jr. reciting his "I Have a Dream" speech. They didn't know when they picked their wedding date that it would be the 50th anniversary, to the day, of this speech. And people all over the world, as if in solidarity with this newly married couple, were listening to the same speech while we were.

The "icing on the cake" as it were, was two sided. Vanilla frosting down one side of the cake and chocolate down the other. But when the cake was finally cut we realized that the diversity was merely superficial. On the inside the cake was ALL red velvet.  

I believe a lasting impression was made on the hearts of those present that day. Because John and Colette were faithful to who they are as individuals and the life they want to live together, witnesses to the unity that is possible as long as we continue to have a dream.

savor

Family cookouts. Hot dogs over the fire.
Time with loved ones. Those who live next door. And those visiting from California.
Shared laughter. Making memories. In the front yard. And farther distances.

Football. Playing catch with nieces and nephews. Two a days and scrimmages and camps. Cheering on your favorite team from the stands or your recliner.

Giant marshmallows. Sticky fingers and faces.

Moments worth savoring.

celebrating the ordinary

Watching my nieces "play" this week has reminded me that there are many ordinary, daily tasks in my "normal" life that I didn't think about while walking the Camino... 

I only did dishes once in Spain. 

I haven't vacuumed in two months.

Music was church bells and bird calls, not filling up my i-pod and turning on the car stereo. 

By the end of the journey I could go several days without ever looking in the mirror. And "fixing" my hair meant putting on a hat. 

Watching the kids celebrate these activities, as if rites of passage, reminds me that I can celebrate them too. I can be grateful to have dishes to wash, because I'm home where I can make healthy food choices. I can be grateful to vacuum, because I like carpet and they don't have much of that in Spain. I can be grateful for bird calls AND car stereos, because music is how I connect with the Creator. And I am certainly grateful for shampoo, because using the same soap for my hair, body, dishes, and clothes is not a trend I want to continue.

Thank you girls for the reminder that all of life is worth celebrating!

alone

My aunt asked me yesterday if it was hard to go from being around people 24/7 for two months, to living alone.

Incredibly hard. Impossibly hard.

Like I've lost my sense of community.

But family dinner and movie nights are certainly helping.

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 62

Day 62: Philadelphia

After a 9 hour flight from Madrid to Philadelphia, I was welcomed back to America with the most amazing surprise.

Randy.

There in the airport. Holding a sign with my name on it. To congratulate me on reaching Santiago. And help me begin the transition from two months on the Camino back to “real life”.

After hugs and laughs and rearranging my flight schedule so we could spend a day in the city together (the Camino has definitely encouraged me to be more flexible!), we did the most “American” thing we could think of.

We went out for Philly cheese steaks.

And I got my first taste of the “American” things I am going to have to readjust to. So many choices (what do you mean what kind of beer do I want?). Finding the toilet handle (what is it doing on the side of the tank?). American prices and dollar bills (where are the fifty cent and one dollar coins?).

And those were just the adjustments I faced in the first hour.

The rest of the evening was mostly spent crying. Tears for all the amazing experiences. The easy and the difficult ones. Tears of joy and accomplishment, relief and exhaustion. Tears for leaving a beautiful country that was home to me, that cared for me and challenged me to grow. Tears for all the people I met along the Way, that they too would have an incredible journey, far into the future. All the tears that I wanted to cry along the way that I didn’t allow myself to. And tears for whatever changes are ahead.

Randy tells me the tears are a normal and natural part of the transition. I feel so blessed that the Camino brought him into my life. That he was here to share his transition experience with me and help me ease into mine.

I know the transitions, the processing, the learning will continue far into the future. But I can’t imagine a more perfect way to begin!  

Days 59 & 60

Days 59 & 60: Finisterre

Arriving in Santiago comes with a whole to-do list.

After a couple hours of sleep (3-4.5 has been standard for me the last month), we went first to the pilgrims office to receive our certificates of completion. Then, despite having eaten a 3 a.m. salami and cheese sandwich, found ourselves tremendously hungry. After our first breakfast we then went to the backpack holding area to leave our packs. Feeling entirely out of place without the rest of ourselves. But a little more free at the same time. We had a quick brunch then went to mass to see the swinging of the botafumeiro. Along with a thousand or so other people. Making it feel a bit more like a production than a religious experience.

Following mass we went to the post office to pick up my computer which I had shipped here on Easter Monday, dropped it off at the baggage area, did some shopping, then made our way back to the cafe. Where we had an array of good eats, from cheeses to mushrooms to octopus.

All of these tasks, combined with the crowds of people, left us weary. Not to mention we weren't used to staying in one town for a whole day without being hurt or sick. We wrestled with whether we needed to sit with our discomfort, or move on.

When we ran into the man from Venice, who had helped me cross streams, he said we needed to walk to Finisterre. Another 87 kilometers away. In order to give every bit of ourselves to the journey.

Since that conversation, both Viktor and I had been wrestling with how to make this happen. How much we still had to give. And if Finisterre had anything to do with our lack of emotional attachment to Santiago.

Before chewing our last bites of octopus, we decided to go to the ends of the earth (finis = end; terre = land).

But not on foot.

At least not entirely.

So, without so much as a change of clothes, we hopped in a taxi and headed the rest of the way west. To kilometer 0.00. Walked the rocky path as far out into the ends of the earth as we dared. To watch the sun set over the water. And burn our boots.

"I'm not striving for anything to make me happy any more," Viktor said. "I'm full."

"Me too," I said. "This, the water and the sun going down and the ritual of burning old hurts and empty spaces, was what I needed. My Camino is complete."

All around us people cheered for the setting sun. The end of the day. The journey. The love burning inside us.

Then we went out for pizza.

And because every ending is a new beginning, we slept one last night in an albergue and got up early to watch the sun rise over the trees and the water. Ushering in whatever journey comes next...

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 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

Day 39

Day 39: San Justo de la Vega to El Ganso - 17.9 km

I think I'm finally getting the hang of this Camino thing.

My feet are killing me. I've left half of my clothing and most of my toiletries at various albergues along the way. I have a sunburn, but only on the left side of my body. And tonight we made dinner together in the albergue kitchen. (Okay so I didn't do any of the cooking, but I did do all the dishes!)

I have also met several people who have just started walking, which I was told would happen as we approached Holy Week. Some started in Leon 3 days ago. And one couple started today in Astorga.

Christie is from Texas, living in North Carolina, and Tom is from California. She said she found out about the Camino when Shirley McClaine's book literally fell off a secondhand bookstore shelf into her lap. She started talking about it and everyone thought she was crazy. Until she met Tom, who says "I'm just crazy enough" to do it too.

She works as a massage therapist at the Ritz Carlton. A $200 tip inspired her to start saving her cash tips in a shoe box.

The plan was to start in Leon 3 days ago. But Tom's wallet was stolen in the airport in California, leaving him without credit cards and cash (but luckily with his passport!). And then his luggage didn't arrive with him in Leon.

After it finally arrived on the third day they decided to take the bus to Astorga to "catch up" to where they had expected to be by now.

They were taking it slow and steady and I enjoyed giving them tips and helping explain some of the "customs" of both the Camino and Spain.

I was also delighted to run into my friend Romy from New Zealand at my stop for the night. Where I also made many new friends.

Since I started walking alone I have discovered that English is no longer the common language. Tonight I was the only one who didn't speak French. Last night I was the only one not fluent in Spanish (though I did catch much of the conversation). And the previous night I was the only one who couldn't understand German.

It truly is an international journey!

Camile from France says she walked from St. Jean to Burgos two years ago but had to go home because of tendinitis in her feet, which kept getting worse with each passing kilometer. I hope this isn't what is causing my new found pain!

While limping through a town earlier today a man told me to drink more water and soak my feet in salt before going to bed. So when I arrived in El Ganso the man running the albergue made me a cold saltwater bath. I don't know if it helped or not, but it was very sweet of him and inspired lots of conversation from my albergue friends about our various ailments and those of others we have encountered on the Way.

Blisters are nothing, we've decided. Compared to all the other things that can and have caused us pain!

And yet we continue to find joy in all things. Like this morning, for example, when I arrived in Astorga before anything was open (9 a.m.). Except the Cathedral of Santa Marta.

Three people were standing next to a side door and told me to go on in. So I did. There were one or two others seated. So I sat down to read my Bible. After an hour had passed I looked up and saw that 50 or so people had joined us, as well as the priest. And that's how I ended up attending mass at the Cathedral.

In a magazine that is published every year detailing the events of Holy Week in this region, I learned that every night from now until Easter there will be celebrations. Parades. Services. In each town that I will walk through. They claim it is the largest Holy Week celebration in all the world. As if I needed more reason to love my journey across Spain!

It will be a glorious end to the Camino!

Day 38

Day 38: Villar de Mazarife to San Justo de la Vega – 27.6 km

I am finding it very difficult to stop and rest now that I am walking alone. And not just stop, but to actually sit there for more than 5 minutes to allow my body a chance to recover. So after walking 9.6 kilometers without stopping this morning, I ventured into an albergue, looked at my watch (which I stopped wearing after about a week into my walking with Randy, but just put on again yesterday), and determined to sit for at least 45 minutes.

And so I sat. In the outdoor courtyard. Alone. Slowly sipping my coffee and eating my croissant. Listening to the albergue's pet bird repeatedly say “hola” and “adios”. Reading my Bible. With my boots off.

It wasn't so bad. But still I felt like I should be walking. Not just sitting around.

After I had "successfully" rested, I ventured on another 4.5 kilometers to Hospital de Orbigo, a town that I have heard wonderful things about. But which was either on siesta or I was distracted by my sore feet, because I walked through the entire town (population 1,100) without feeling the need to stop and stay.

At the edge of town I unexpectedly came to a cross roads and had to pull out my guidebook. While finding the page I needed, a young couple passed by me, said hello, and kept walking. Then turned around and came back.

“English?” they asked in German accents.

“Yes.”

“If you go straight, it is shorter. But if you go right, it is more beautiful,” the man said.

“Right it is, then!”

Sometimes shorter is better. Days when it is raining, muddy, or the scenery has been the same for several kilometers in a row. But today I wanted to follow the more beautiful path. Even though my feet hurt. Because this couple took the time to tell me that it was worth it. And it certainly was beautiful.

The next town was only 2 kilometers away. And since it was lunchtime I stopped at a bar. And bumped into a father/daughter duo from Canada I had met earlier on the trail.

“I’m buying you a drink,” the father said. “It comes with tapas!” I remember being that excited when I first learned this custom as well. “You are joining us whether you want to or not,” he added.

His daughter was just a few years younger than me and made for good company. It was her dad’s idea to come on the Camino. And after hearing his excitement for several months as he made plans, she decided to tag along. At least, she said, that’s how she would describe the Camino before coming. But now it is as much her journey as it is his.

“I don’t really see the point in getting to Santiago,” she said, when I told her I had less than 2 weeks left in Spain, “unless you are really religious.”

“I can find God in the trees and mountains, the ever changing scenery and certainly the people," I offered, "just as easily as I can find Him in the churches and cathedrals.” Which has become even more true for me with each passing day.

They were anxious to get to the next town (just 2.5 kilometers away) and settle in for the afternoon. But my feet wanted a longer rest. So I ordered a tortilla and a lemonade, plugged in my computer, and worked for the next two hours. Spending only 3 euros on my afternoon. (I love that so many bartenders expect pilgrims to loiter!)

As I was preparing to leave, a group of older gentleman started asking me all kinds of questions, most of which I didn’t understand. Except that they wanted to know if I was traveling alone. And they wanted me to take their “youngest” friend with me. “No, no, no!” he kept shouting, more interested in playing cards than walking 10.5 kilometers.

And even though this guy didn’t join me, I did meet up with an even older fellow about 8 kilometers later. Out for his evening stroll. Wearing a sweater and cap. Slacks and tennis shoes. Walking just a hair slower than I was.

We had your typical small talk. Where are you from? Where are you going? What do you think of this weather? But I enjoyed the sound of someone walking beside me as much as I did his interest in my Camino.

I walked him back to his car, about a kilometer down the road, and he wished me a “Buen Viaje.” Good journey.

Unwilling to go any further, I stopped at an Albergue Donativo. You pay what you can to stay at the donativos, and they use the funds for upkeep and the next night’s dinner. 

A special thank you to whoever stayed here the night before, because I enjoyed a delicious meal of noodle soup, salad, spinach and mushroom tortilla, and dessert.

The real treat, of course, was the company. My Spanish host. A French woman who lives nearby. And a Romanian couple who seem to be vagabonds (the young man I saw sitting outside another donativo earlier in the day, and she said she'd spent the afternoon washing her hair in the fountain).

Meditation was the main topic of dinner conversation. The Romanian couple just completed a 10-day silent retreat (she only lasted 7 days). And the Frenchwoman wants to go next. I told them I was a Quaker and that we have silence in our worship services in order to listen for God. The man said that it is important to focus on our breathing because that is how God created Adam. By breathing life into him. 

I will carry this thought with me tomorrow as I walk.

Day 35

Day 35: Reliegos to Arcahueja - 16.5 km

At the recommendation of our friend Jeff from North Dakota, Randy and I stopped at Bar Elvis before leaving Reliegos this morning.

Even though we started our walk with Jeff a month ago, our Caminos have become very different experiences. He will be arriving in Santiago tomorrow. And I'm still weeks away!

Jeff stopped at Bar Elvis in Reliegos 11 days ago, leaving his North Dakota flag on the wall. Amongst lots of other flags, notes, clothing, etc.

When we arrived at 9:30 this morning the bar was closed. But Sinin, the proprietor, stumbled his way to the entrance, unlocking the door for us, and promising us coffee within "cinco minutos" (5 minutes). The bar was littered with dirty glasses and the tables needed wiped down. But we quickly understood why Jeff wanted us to stop here. And how much fun must take place here each night, causing Sinin to stumble regularly to the door for "early" pilgrims in search of coffee.

He told us to wait 10 minutes more for the bread truck to arrive and then he would make us a ham and cheese sandwich. He turned "Friends" on the television. And the soundtrack to "Forrest Gump" on the stereo.

Meanwhile we befriended an Italian who was walking home to France with his dog. Having already walked to Santiago, and now is headed back. He says you essentially have to live as a "bum" when you walk with your dog. Because even though dogs are welcome in bars, they aren't so welcomed in albergues. He was packing up his sleeping bag and tent when we met him.

He reminded us that the traditional pilgrimage requires you to walk to a site of religious significance, as well as walk home. Returning "back" is as much a part of the pilgrimage as is walking "to".

I meditated on this truth as we walked to Arcahueja. And I found it interesting how the outer landscape reflected my inner thoughts.

For several days now we have been walking along gravel paths beside quiet country roads. With fields on both sides.

Yesterday we watched a shepherd unhurriedly allow his sheep to cross the road from pasture to pasture. And the day before we came across a labyrinth at a "rest stop". A kind of maze with only one way to the center. I followed its path to heart center, appreciating this reminder that all roads lead to Santiago. God. Peace. Whatever it is that is true.

But today the Camino brought us into the outskirts of the 130,000 population city of Leon. And our quiet path suddenly had pasture on one side and a busy highway, with semi-trucks and gas stations, on the other.  

To me this symbolized what it will be like to return home. With all that we learned about ourselves and who we want to be on one side, and the busy-ness of life and work and responsibilities on the other.

Will we be able to balance the two? Blend the peace with the noise? Maintain an attitude of gratitude even when we have to do more than walk and pray and eat each day?

I pray it will be so. That the peace we carry will last long after Santiago.

Days 33 & 34

Day 33: San Nicolas del Real Camino to Bercianos del Real Camino - 17.1 km
Day 34: Bercianos del Real Camino to Reliegos - 20.3 km

These last two days have been mentally challenging, but filled with many blessed encounters that truly trump the hardship!

In San Nicolas we stayed at a lovely albergue with two other pilgrims: a middle aged Spaniard and an older Mexican gentleman who lives in Texas. We have encountered several people in the last few days who are expatriates, living in a country other than the one they were raised in.

The albergue was above a bar/cafe, so in the morning we simply went downstairs for breakfast. Where I had the best fresh ham and cheese omelet sandwich of my entire journey!

While enjoying our coffee we chatted with pilgrims who were walking in to town from Moratinos and Terradillos. (I did mention that Randy and I are always the last to leave the albergue, didn't I? So these folks had been walking for an hour or two and we hadn't started yet!)

Ann, from Canada but living in Australia, told us about the American woman who runs an albergue in Moratinos, 3.2 kilometers back. It isn't in any of the guidebooks. But is more 'word of Camino mouth'. And is open to pilgrims who can't afford to stay in the albergues. She shared this information with us because Randy was buying breakfast for the two guys who slept outside the church the night before.

She also said that the woman feels it is her mission to help clean up the Camino. (Many pilgrims litter everything from toilet paper to plastic bags along the route.) You can stay at the albergue in Moratinos for a week, walking and helping clean up the Camino. I would love to spend a week with her, serving in this way!

Ann went on to tell us about the father/son pilgrims from Tennessee who weren't feeling so well that morning. We bumped into them 7 kilometers later in the city of Sahagun. They said they had both gotten sick on their morning walk. We assured them that it wouldn't last long and encouraged them to pick up some Aquarius, a Gatorade-like beverage. The father had just retired, and the son was between undergraduate and graduate school.

"The bus is starting to sound appealing," the father said.
"It's easy to start questioning why we are walking," I said. "Especially when you don't feel good."
"Why are we walking?" he asked.

We all laughed. Knowing that the mental part of this journey is far more difficult than the physical. And yet we will push through. And continue to walk. Even on days when we doubt, fear, or want to give up.

Sahagun was hosting a marathon, so Randy and I stopped at a bakery near the finish line to enjoy the festivities. And along came John from Australia (who is originally from Wales)! We invited him to join us for coffee but he said he was on a "mission".

One of the things I love most about John is that he is so mysterious. He refuses to tell us why he is walking the Camino. He goes on "missions". He has visions, hallucinations, and loses whole blocks of time. He disappears and reappears into our lives seemingly at will (maybe it is us who is having the hallucinations!).

And even though we didn't see him again in Sahagun, he reappeared again this morning in Bercianos. And again declined coffee. But invited us to dinner with him in Leon on Wednesday where he will be staying at the Parador (the fancy hotel Martin Sheen stayed at in "The Way"). We definitely want to make this engagement, and hopefully find out more about our mysterious friend!

Leaving Bercianos, we traveled several kilometers in the direction of El Burgo Ranero before stopping at a bench on the route. It was there that we were sitting when a woman walked toward us from El Burgo, heading in the "wrong" direction. We chatted for a bit, her telling us she was going to Bercianos to have coffee, when we realized she was Sara, the American woman (from Flagstaff, Arizona) working at the albergue in El Burgo Ranero that our friend Aloys from Holland had told us about. We hugged like long lost friends and she shared with us a bit about how to become a volunteer hospitalero (host) at an albergue. (Essentially all you have to do is walk the Camino and take a training that is hosted somewhere in the U.S. every year.)

Randy and I have talked, probably since day 1, about how fun it would be to volunteer at an albergue. For two weeks or two months or two years. He would cook of course. And I would wash feet. We would offer beds for siestas (there are so many times I would be able to walk further if I just had a comfy bed to nap in for two hours after lunch!). And we would definitely have heat!

After we parted ways with Sara and started walking again, two bicycling pilgrims passed us and then stopped. The one handing me a granola bar and wishing us a "Buen Camino" before heading off again on The Way. I ate it right then and there. What a beautiful day!

When we finally got to El Burgo Ranero we immediately met Alex from Wisconsin who is going to college in Puget Sound. He was taking a semester off because "I'm only going to be 21 once." We met up with him again right before entering the town of Reliegos, where we had decided to stop for the evening.

Alex continued on into town but we stopped at the first albergue. And, it turns out, we were the only ones. So for 7 euros each we have the entire, brand new (not even in the guidebooks yet!) albergue all to ourselves. With one of the best showers we have experienced on the trip. Balconies. Heat (in theory; we are still waiting for it to kick on). A restaurant below us, where we were served the most delicious vegetables, chicken, and chocolate tarte for dinner. And we don't even have to leave until 9 a.m. (Which, you know, is 10 in our world!)

I've left out all the hard parts of the last two days, in favor of just sharing with you the blessed encounters. Because this post is already long enough.

But know that your prayers are felt, your thoughts appreciated, and that you are not alone in your hopes and fears and dreams!

Day 32

Day 32: Calzadilla de la Cueza to San Nicolas del Real Camino - 15.7 km

Fortunately for me I woke up this morning feeling normal again. Unfortunately for Randy, he did not. Also unfortunately is that we stayed at an albergue last night. And albergues require us to leave by 8 a.m. Though we frequently push our limits to as late as 9.

We stopped at the town bar so I could get a ham sandwich for breakfast. I knew Randy was really sick when he asked for hot tea instead of his usual double espresso ("cafe doble").

With no other options in the tiny town of Calzadilla, we were forced to start walking, along the highway, on a cool and foggy morning.

After 9.7 kilometers in a few slow hours, we reached a beautiful albergue in Terradillos de los Templarios. Clean and new and warm, with a fabulous cafeteria. And Randy was already feeling better. Good enough to stomach some pasta and give him the energy to go further.

Several days ago, Dirk from Germany said that the good thing is, whatever ails you today, something else will ail you tomorrow.

This might sound negative, even discouraging. But we've actually found peace and comfort in this truth. Because a new hurt tomorrow means that whatever hurts today won't hurt for long.

Yesterday my stomach hurt. Today it did not. Today it was my hip flexors. Tomorrow it might be a knee or shoulder or foot. But at least my stomach is better and so will be my hip.

Today Randy's stomach hurt. Tomorrow it will not. Tomorrow it might be his toe or heel. But it won't be today's hurt.

So, there is no need to dwell on today's hurt. Because by tomorrow it will be forgotten.

While resting and enjoying our lunch Randy asked me how it felt to be "halfway", as Terradillos is the halfway point between St. Jean Pied de Port, France, where I started, and Santiago, where I plan to end.

I expected to feel accomplished. Excited. Proud. Relieved. Exhausted. Something.

But the truth is, I didn't feel anything at all.

Perhaps because there was no monument or plaque or sign to commemorate this locale (though "Uncle John" tells us there is one coming up in Sahagun to mark halfway between Roncesvalles, 24 km into our trip, and Santiago). Perhaps because I was more focused on Randy and me feeling better than on how many kilometers we had managed in the last sick two days. Perhaps because it is overwhelming to think how many miles I still have to go. Perhaps because the number of kilometers has ceased to matter, paling in comparison to the richness of our experience.

Regardless, I didn't feel any emotional attachment to this stop. So, as the sun came out and warmed up the afternoon, we easily decided to continue on 6 more kilometers, with sunglasses on, to the comfortably cozy town of San Nicolas, where we are sleeping above a bar/cafe with two other pilgrims on The Way.