my Christmas letter

Dear loved ones,

2014 has been a year of faithfulness!

I rang in the New Year with a new circle of family and friends, who will forever have a place in my heart. More than anywhere else this year I have seen God at work in their lives, from healing relationships to physical healing, from prayer and financial support to radical faithfulness. Their strength has taught me what it is to be strong.

2014 has been a year of travel!

By the first week of January I was already off! After flying to Texas with my parents and older brother, we joined my aunt, uncle, cousins, and grandma on a cruise ship for a week. Then I was off to Corpus Christi for a week with my younger brother, sister-in-law, and the cutest niece in all of Texas.

On March 4, I was back at the airport and off to Madrid for a 30-day walk across Spain! On day 58 I finally arrived in Santiago, having spent the first 34 days falling in love and the next 24 days falling apart and trying to put it all back together again.

The next 6 months were spent healing, navigating the transition "home", and traveling back and forth to California. This was by far the most challenging part of the year.

2014 has been a year of family!

I was "gone" as much as I was "home" in Ohio this year, but every day there was spent with family. Experiencing four of my nieces turning 5 and my nephew turning 8, t-ball games and football games, trips to McDonalds and visits from the tooth fairy, weekly family dinner nights and boxes of wine after the kids went to bed, walks with my dad and talks with my mom, these are the "moments" that make up the year.

Even when the decision was made to move to California, it was still all about family. Randy, Jovi, and I spent as many days with family members in Arkansas, Oklahoma, Texas, and New Mexico on our road trip as we spent on our own.

And arriving here didn't take me away from family, it simply expanded it. I now have even more brothers, sisters-in-law, kids, nieces, nephews, and parents to love and be loved by.

2014: "Walk With"

2014 may be remembered as the year that I walked. But for those of you who have taken this journey with me, you know that "walk" wasn't my word of the year. Because it wasn't about walking; it was about who God placed on my path to "walk with".

With gratitude to all of you for your prayers, walks, and love!

Katie

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.

"Well done, good and faithful servant."

Quakers have this practice of writing and recording what they call a "minute". I like the way Bethesda Friends Meeting defines this:

A minute is a statement of belief that an individual or group would like to record for others to see, both now and in the future about a certain topic or person.

On Sunday I was given a minute that Xenia Monthly Meeting, the church that I have been speaking at twice a month for the past couple of years, wrote about me.

It reads, in part:

Xenia has benefited from [Katie's] insights into the world of practical spiritual living. We have been uplifted by her infectious smile, her candor, and her ability to find a spiritual message in the most mundane activities of life. We have been buoyed in spirit by her eternal optimism and her willingness to take risks as God has led her in her life. 

If I could have put into words two years ago how I hoped God would use me during my time in Ohio, these are the kinds of things I would have asked for. This is precisely the kind of legacy I would have asked to leave. And through this minute it was like God was saying, "Well done, good and faithful servant."

My heart was humbled. And filled with love for God and this community.

The minute was read and presented to me right before I was invited to offer a final sermon. I used this time to reminisce with folks about our time together:

• The first sermon I gave, when it was so cold in the sanctuary that I wore a coat and hat. 
• The Sunday they invited Lois, their other regular pastor, and I to preach a sermon together. 
• Our sermon series on spiritual gifts.
• The Sunday I told them I was training for a triathlon. The Sunday I told them why I'd gotten divorced. The Sunday I told them I was going to Spain, and the Sunday I told them I was moving to California. 

I also used this time to tell them how they had ministered to me. From using our Sunday school hour and long lunches at Frisch's to get to know each other better, to sharing their very personal struggles so that we could pray for one another, to wearing brightly colored socks, holding hands with their spouses every week, and simply allowing me to be me.

God has blessed me so richly with the connection I have to this church. And I'm grateful to know that the feeling is mutual.

Do I have the courage to keep showing up?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

thanks to those who pray

It's pouring down rain in California today.

I'm working and listening to the K-Love radio station. A station I listened to in Ohio. A station based here in Sacramento.

The DJ came on a few minutes ago and said, "I'm looking out my window and it is raining. Really raining. It's an answer to prayer."

I looked out my window and saw the same view.

From the drought in California to the raging wildfires that have encompassed over 95,000 acres just east of us, rain truly is an answer to prayer. The prayers of countless people around the world who have heard the news of the need here.

The DJ went on to not only thank God for rain, but to thank the people for their prayers.

It made me think about how often our prayers are answered but we fail to thank God. And fail to thank the people we asked to pray for us.

So let me just take this moment to thank all of you for your prayers this year. They have been felt and they have been heard and they have been answered. And thank you God for leading and guiding, knowing our needs and answering our prayers.

 

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.

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.

blessed by your presence

Colette and I met 8 years ago when we were selected to be roommates on a mission trip to India. It was there that she showed me what happens when not just a family but an entire community raises a child to know that she was saved by Jesus, and saved for a purpose. That child grows up with so much love inside her that she can't help but carry it to all the world. And my beautiful friend Colette has done just that.

We hadn't seen each other since India, so on Saturday I surprised Colette by showing up at her bridal shower. And her immediate reaction was to burst into tears.

Have you ever seen someone cry because they felt so blessed by your presence? Blessed... by me... simply showing up.

My heart has never been so full.

Spending time with Colette and a house full of women who, like me, have been touched by her life and ministry was like heaven on earth. Colette is one of the most humble and loving and kind women I have ever met, and we all left feeling like we had been the reason for the party.

I hope we all have people in our lives who, simply by being in their presence, make us feel filled with the Holy Spirit, empowered to do his work, and overflowing with a love that we can't help but carry to others. We should spend more time with people like that!

(By the way, Miss Colette, the most beautiful person, inside and out, I have ever met is from Ferguson, Missouri. Ferguson -- the community that raised her to be so powerfully loving. Let us hold that community in our hearts as they seek to return to who they know they are.)

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.

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!  

Day 61

Day 61: Madrid

There is nothing fun about a 9-hour overnight bus ride from Santiago to Madrid. Except the 5 minute break we had in Ponferrada, my home for those few rest days after my hospital visit.

It is hard to believe that was only 10 days ago. But an amazing reminder that so much can change in such little time!

Ponferrada is where I was told my walking journey was over. Tendonitis in the feet is one of the major reasons people have to leave the Camino early. Caused by walking too fast, or too long, or carrying too much weight in your backpack.

The doctors and nurses and pharmacists applauded me for having come this far (approximately 615 kilometers). But told me to stop walking. Until it didn't hurt any more. Which could be days or weeks or months. And by no means to walk with crutches.

But one person told me if I could immobilize it, get an orthopedic boot, rest, that MAYBE after a few days I could walk.

I didn't believe it for myself. I was in too much pain. And had been for too long. But sometimes all you need is one person to believe in you to convince you that anything is possible.

When Kari, my sister-in-law, told me if I did all those things I might be able to walk some more, I started to imagine that it could be possible. At least the last 5 kilometers into Santiago.

I went to the bus station in Ponferrada all those days ago to see about taking a short ride, just 45 kilometers. Slowly making my way to Santiago. And around the corner from the bus station I found a home health care store. Where they sold me an orthopedic boot. Which a pharmacist told me they don't have in Spain (Randy and I were told by a hotel clerk that Spain doesn't have pizza, which is also not true).

So I wore the boot. And took the bus for a day. Then a taxi for two days. And on that third day, with a short 4.5 kilometers between towns, I tried walking the Camino for the first time with the boot.

It was hard. And painful. Because even though the tendonitis was in the top of my foot, my heel was also causing me pain. Which didn't have much cushion in the boot.

The next morning, now that the swelling in my foot had gone done enough, I decided to try walking in my hiking boots, with the crutches. And strapped the ortho boot to my pack in case I needed it.

The support and cushion from the boots was just what I needed. So I walked that way for 50 kilometers, over the course of 3 days, before deciding I needed to trust my feet to carry me to Santiago.

So I left the boot at kilometer marker 53.

Maybe someone else will need it. Or will be inspired by it. Or realize they too need to let go of what is weighing them down, in favor of trust.

I used the crutches for those 3 days, plus one day more. My last day walking. But for most of that day I carried them in one hand at my side. To see if I needed them any more or if I had just come to rely on them the same way I had the boot strapped to my back.

Determined to walk into Santiago unaided, I left them at the top of a hill, about 5 or 7 kilometers outside of the city.

Tony saw the crutches the next afternoon when he was walking those final kilometers into Santiago. "It was like you were giving me a sign," he said. "It was incredible!"

"Animo!" I said, his favorite Spanish word. Which doesn't exactly translate. But is meant to be an encouragement. Like "keep it up" or "you can do it!"

Which is exactly how I felt at that 5 minute bus stop in Ponferrada. That even though my foot has swollen again with all the walking and long bus rides, and even though I have blisters on the other foot from using it so much more... I did it! I can do it! And I can keep choosing to believe that with God ALL things are possible!

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!

Day 50

Day 50 - Resting (against my will) in Ponferrada

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Day 49

Day 49: Bus ride, 33.6 km back to Ponferrada

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Day 47

Day 47: Resurrection Sunday

Today was a day of reflecting on all I have to be thankful for.

Being in a country that honors the message of Easter in such a grand way. Allowing me to worship and pray and remember publicly the One who made it all possible.

The support of loved ones, family and friends, who show me acceptance and understanding, forgiveness and grace every day.

Spending 4 days in this beautiful town, time enough to see familiar faces, know my way around without a guidebook, and differentiate the chiming of the church bells (which means the time, which is alerting me that I have 30 minutes to get to church, which is a celebration chime, etc.).

My health. That even though my foot continues to pain me, it is minor compared to the health battles that others face in this life.

The hotel staff who have cared for me this weekend, from making me breakfast to being good company to lecturing me about taking only a short walk if I insist on leaving on Monday. They, too, have become part of my Camino family.

I feel especially grateful to have taken this time off to participate in the life of a community and give Easter the focused attention it is due.

I pray each one of you also had a blessed Easter, filled with gratitude and joy and love!

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 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.