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.

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.

healing hurts

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

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

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

I went to the hospital yesterday to find out.

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

He pointed out the broken bone.

But that wasn't the cool part.

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

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

Hooray!

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

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

Only that isn't the case.

In reality, we continue to hurt through the healing.

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

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

two questions

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

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

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

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

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

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

Have a blessed week everyone!!

comfortable

Last night, after his sisters went to bed, my nephew propped a pillow up against his mother's hip. Grabbed a blanket, tablet, and his penguin. And settled in for a few peaceful moments in his little nest. 

This kid knows how to get comfortable!  

And I'm completely envious.

I haven't found that comfortable place yet since leaving Spain. Not in my body or my home. My head or my work.

I'm sure it will come. And I'll be just as content as Kasen, in his last week as a 7-year-old. I just have to be patient...

the in-between

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

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

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

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

groceries

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Day 63

Day 63: Home

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

Yep, I'm officially home! 

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

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

Animo! (You can do it!)

Ultreia! (Walk on!)

Buen Camino!! (Have a good journey!)