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.

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!

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!

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 46

Day 46 – Holy Saturday

“And they rested on the Sabbath according to the commandment.” Luke 23:56

Every journey, every Camino, every calling is its own.

Many people I have encountered have felt led to walk to Santiago. Others beyond Santiago, another 87 kilometers, to Finisterre. Or even a day’s walk beyond that to Muxia.

Not everyone is called to Santiago, however. Some are simply called to walk.

Some started in France. In St. Jean Pied de Port, like me. Or further away. In Le Puy. Or Paris.

Others began in Spain. Roncesvalles or Pamplona. Burgos or Leon. And some will begin in Sarria, to walk the last 100 kilometers.

Many do the Camino in stages. One hundred kilometers or one week at a time. Over the course of a few or many years.

Others follow the guidebook recommendations and walk from St. Jean to Santiago in 33 continuous days.

I’ve met people who walk far faster than this. And many, like me, who go much slower.

My own calling was to walk for Lent.

I thought it would take me to Santiago. Or Finisterre. Or Muxia. I thought I would have “arrived” by now. But I find myself 185 kilometers short of Santiago. Resting in Villafranca del Bierzo. Because that is what the Scriptures say happened between Jesus’ Crucifixion and Resurrection. Rest.

After Good Friday, a day of processions and services, holiday crowds and late night music, I welcomed a day of quiet. Both outside in the streets and inside my own mind.

Because the Camino is a difficult journey. But not just on the body. It challenges you mentally, emotionally, physically, and spiritually. And after 46 days I needed a break. In body, mind, and spirit.

So that I would be prepared for the celebration of the new life that comes with Resurrection Sunday.

Here they say ‘the authentic Camino begins when it is completed’. So even though Easter marks the end of Lent, my journey has just begun.

I’ve decided to stay in Spain for another 2 weeks. To listen more deeply to what it means for me to live the Camino.

I will continue to walk. But by now I know (and I hope you do too!) that the Camino is so much more than walking.       

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 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 37

Day 37: Leon to Villar de Mazarife - 20.1 km

To celebrate how far we had come together, Randy and I stayed at the infamous Parador hotel last night. And met our mysterious friend John from Australia for drinks in the bar. And again this morning for breakfast.

We shared with John a few of our theories about him. That he is an apostle. A figment of our imaginations. The CEO of the Camino. Or at least the Parador hotel.

"Do you like what I've done with the place?" he asked, with a twinkle in his eye.

While much of John remains a mystery, he did reveal to us his reason for walking the Camino. A heartache we felt honored to be entrusted with. And invited us to "one" of his vineyards in Australia. If ever we found ourselves in the neighborhood.

"We'll have lunch under my tree," he said, a statement I can only fathom the depths of.

Obviously Randy and I have a new top priority on our bucket lists!

Randy's bus didn't leave until 16:45, so he walked my first kilometer with me before saying goodbye.

Along the way he asked if I had everything I needed: money, water, donuts... And he asked me if I felt safe.

I immediately started to cry. Not because I felt unsafe. But because I realized it was a concern I hadn't had to worry about since the moment he walked into my life.

Some people you just know immediately you can trust.

We were walking past a flower shop, so he stopped and bought me a carnation. (A woman told me later that it's called a "clavel" in Spanish.)

The weather was perfect. Nearly 80 degrees, with the sun shining bright. Except for the few moments that we had to say goodbye. In which the tiniest cloud stopped over our heads and brought rain to mix with our tears.

Even though I know it isn't forever, or even for long, saying goodbye to Randy has been the hardest part of my Camino.

But I knew I had to move forward. So with a last look over my shoulder, I found my way out of the city of Leon and onto the dirt paths that are now so familiar.

My plan had been to stop at the first albergue I came to, just 6 kilometers outside the city. But it felt good to push myself, so I just kept walking.

In honor of Randy being from California (and because he would want me to rest), I stopped in Fresno for a refreshment before tackling the last 13 kilometers of my day. And asked the bartender to put a stamp in my passport.

"Su primero dia," he said.

The passport I started with 37 days ago is now full of stamps from albergues, hotels, churches, bars, and museums. So Randy and I stopped in Leon to visit the nuns and get me a new passport.

"Si," I responded. Because in a way it is my first day. The first day of my new Camino. With a new passport. A new pace. And a fuller heart.

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.

Day 29

Day 29: Boadilla del Camino to Villalcazar de Sirga - 20.9 km

"Pace" has been a regular subject of conversation over the last several days.

Simon from England says that walking the Camino with someone is like being in a relationship. It doesn't feel like compromise in the beginning because you are having so much fun. But then comes a day when you want to stop, but the other person wants to press on. Or you want to press on, and the other wants a day off. And you have to have that difficult conversation about parting ways in order to stay true to yourself and your Camino.

I walked 4 or 5 kilometers with David from Australia recently who was trying to catch up to his "Camino family". He fell behind when he took a rest day back in Burgos. But he was committed to finishing the Camino with them, even if it meant a 30 kilometer day to catch up. His only complaint about the family was the American who wanted to take frequent breaks and pictures, which he felt slowed the pace of the whole group. I only walked those few kilometers with him because he was way too fast for me. At least if I ever thought about a day of 30k.

Even though Randy and I get teased by our fellow pilgrims about our slow pace, I read back to our first encounter and was reminded that setting our own pace was one of our goals for the journey. To not be pressured by anyone or any standard that says we should go faster or longer or come home sooner. But to listen instead to our bodies, minds, and souls to know how far and how fast to go.

Today we were also reminded about how much we would miss if we were racing through the Camino.

In the tiny town (population 150) of Poblacion de Campos, we stopped at a hotel around 1:30 p.m. and asked the matron if we could trouble her for a cup of coffee. She put on a pot for us and showed us to a leather couch in the lounge, where we promptly fell asleep. Embracing the national tradition of the siesta.

I can't imagine anywhere in the States where my backpack and I would be invited in, after walking 10k in the rain, and allowed to sleep on a hotel couch. But this lady acted as if we had paid her way more than 2 euros for coffee.

After some time we decided we better get back on the road if we were going to go another 10k before calling it a day. As we were starting to gear up she gave me the most pitiful look and said surely we could stay for an authentic Castillian meal.

"It's tradition," she said.

She spoke no English, and I didn't understand 90 percent of what she was saying, but I could tell that she felt it was her calling to care for us, and would be more hurt by us leaving without lunch than by anything else that could go wrong in her day.

Hollering out into the courtyard, she invited her brother's nephew to join us. And the four of us sat down to a bowl of soup.

We've been eating sopa de ajo (garlic soup) for about a week now, a typical dish in this region. But she made the dish "special" by adding garbanzo beans. And it was delicious. And filling. Especially since we'd just had a bocadilla (sandwich) in Fromista, just 3.5 km ago.

She took the soup away and we wondered how we would ever walk 10 kilometers on such full stomachs. And then she came back with a bowl of chicken and vegetables. Which she insisted we try, even if we just took un pocito (a little bit). By the time she offered us ice cream and fresh fruit for dessert we were way past saying no.  

When she finally did let us leave two hours later, refusing any sort of compensation, she thanked us for our presence and gave thanks to God, saying that it is important to care for those on the journey to Santiago.

Not every pilgrim would take this kind of "time out" in the middle of the walking day, but I'm sure grateful that we did.

During our even slower pace into Villarmentero de Campos, where we had a drink with the hosteleria, and on to Villalcazar de Sirga, where a bartender agreed to open a bunk house for the 6 of us so we wouldn't have to walk any more in the rain (we met up with two Koreans and a couple from Holland along the way), we saw a snail, fed two donkeys, watched a train of caterpillars, and witnessed the most beautiful double rainbow.

All reminders that beauty, compassion, and the journey have nothing to do with speed.