you are loved

The Women of Faith tour was in Sacramento this weekend. Women of Faith is a Christian women's event that brings in amazing Bible teachers and musicians to inspire women to deepen their relationship with God. This year's theme was "From Survival to Revival", challenging and encouraging us to not just go through the motions of life, but to leave behind whatever holds us back in order to embrace every moment as the gift that it is.

Randy has 3 brothers, two of whose partners went with me to the event. Robert is married to Suzanne. And Roy is engaged to a different Suzanne. Kelly, Robert's daughter's mother-in-law, also joined us. And the time of fellowship with these 3 women was the highlight of my weekend!

On Friday night of the event, the emcee asked us all to take out our cell phones. "Now text 2 of your girlfriends who aren't with you and tell them that they are loved," she said.

Many of us wriggled uneasily in our seats. Just randomly text a friend and say, "You are loved"? Isn't that a little weird?

"Just do it," the emcee said.

So we all dutifully grabbed our phones and texted the first 2 women who came to mind.

"There are 8,000 women in this arena," the emcee said after giving us a minute. "That means 16,000 women just received the message that she is loved."

How cool is that?! And how many of the women who received that message needed it at that exact moment?

I immediately received a text back from one of my girlfriends, telling me I was also loved (and reminding me that it was 3 hours later in Ohio... it might take me a while to get used to the time difference!).

My other friend has yet to acknowledge the text. But that is okay. The point wasn't to get a response. The point was simply to remind the women in our lives that they are loved. Loved by me and loved by God.

Would you add to the number of women this weekend getting the message that they are loved? I know it's a little weird and a little awkward, but it just takes a second and it might be exactly what she needs to hear right now. So just grab your phone and text two people these 3 words: "You are loved."

Carley's Invitation

At church yesterday Randy and I heard a very inspirational testimony from a man named Joe.

Joe lived in Texas, grew up as a pastor's kid, but in his adult life turned away from the Lord. He started living for himself and pretty much made a mess of his life and his marriage.

At the same time, in California, a little girl was born. Her name was Carley. Carley was brought up in a Christian home and attended Rock Harbor Church with her family.

Eight years later, Joe and Carley's paths crossed for the first time.

It was at that time that Joe and his family moved to California for a job opportunity. Joe still didn't want anything to do with God, but God had other plans.

One Sunday, Rock Harbor Church passed out invitation cards and told each member to invite someone to church. Eight-year-old Carley took 7 invitation cards, put them all in one envelope, and gave them to Joe.

How could Joe turn down such a sincere invitation?

It was that invitation that started him on the path toward repentance, forgiveness, grace, love, and joy. And, as Joe said yesterday, "The rest is history."

One of the most beautiful parts of this story, for me, was that Carley was in church yesterday when Joe was sharing his testimony.

How often do we wonder if the things we do make an impact? How often do we do things without intending for them to be life-changing, only for God to use them in powerful ways?

On our 16-day drive from Ohio to California Randy and I had several opportunities to be the hands and feet of Jesus to strangers.

When the credit card machine wasn't working at the farmer's market in Ohio, we used our cash to pay for another customer's purchase.

When a homeless man in Dallas was anticipating winter, Randy gave him his jacket.

When another couple was boarding their dog at Carlsbad Caverns the same time we were boarding Jovi, we paid for their dog too.

When a waitress in Las Vegas had several customers in a row complain about their food, we left her an extra large tip. Which took some coordinating because she wasn't our waitress.

While it would be awesome to have a Carley moment, sitting in the audience to hear how our simple acts of obedience changed a life, we'll never know if or how we made a difference. But that's okay. It isn't our job to know. It is our job to love and care for the people in our path.

a necessary mess

I've been too busy making a mess to write much lately. 

But I've been thinking about how sometimes life is messy right before a breakthrough. A move. A new adventure. A growth opportunity. A deeper sense of purpose.

So I'm embracing my mess.

Knowing that it is necessary to get me where I want to be. 

Randy flew into town yesterday. Today we load the u-haul. And tomorrow we'll be on our way!

"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.

When the Game Stands Tall

Why would anyone voluntarily go up against the team with football's longest winning streak? According to Del Oro Head Coach Casey Taylor, "You get better playing the best."

And why would De La Salle, that winningest team, bother with a team like Del Oro? In the words of a De La Salle fan, whose brother is one of their longtime coaches, “Our programs are similar… it’s not about football.”

Having listened to a couple of the Del Oro pep talks the night before game day I can attest to the truth of this. Talks that focus on goals, character, discipline. On and off the field.

“So what if they have a movie out?” Coach Taylor said Thursday.

I imagine Bob Ladouceur, former head coach of the De La Salle Spartans, would have said the same thing were the circumstances reversed. In fact, he seems like the kind of guy who would say to his team, “So WE have a movie out. Who cares? That is not the measure of our success.”

I haven’t seen the movie yet, but reading the book When the Game Stands Tall tells me that the De La Salle Spartans have beat plenty of teams that towered over them, the way they towered over Del Oro on Friday night. Because they cared about one another, they played with heart, and they worked hard, together, as a team.     

And while the home team didn’t pull out an upset on Friday, instead sending De La Salle home with another big win under their belts, they did inspire an estimated 8,000 people to come together as a community to watch a little high school football.

And anything that builds community is a success in my book.

What Coach Lad did with the De La Salle Spartans should challenge us, not to be awed or intimidated by a Catholic school's football team in California, but to live exemplary lives right where we are. 

It was incredibly inspiring to see Coach Ladouceur, standing right there on the field before us with the opposing team Friday night. But so was hearing the Del Oro coaches teach their kids that “fear” stands for: Face Everything And Rise. 

Because they've figured out the same thing Coach Lad did. That they are in the position to influence these kids, and help them grow, not from boys into football players, but from boys into men.

The Natural World

Everyone in Placer County, California, loves Randy. It is amazing the love and support for him, and us. Everywhere we go, from the grocery store to the high school football game, from church to the brewery, people have heard about us walking across Spain together and want to hear it again direct from us.

It has been so much fun retelling and reliving the Camino!

But also exhausting.

So this morning we escaped the social world and went for a long walk. Just like old times!

It was the perfect day for it. A cool 65 degrees at the start and a beautiful 85 by the end, made all the more perfect by sticking our hot feet in the cold waters of the American River.

The only negative to the whole adventure was the smoke-filled air from the neighboring forest fires. Not close enough that we have to worry about them, but close enough that the air tastes like your face is pressed deep into a wood stove. The smell is especially strong first thing in the morning.

We were discussing the fires yesterday with some friends. About how they are nature's way of taking care of the earth.

It is easy to think of forest fires as a bad thing. But they are actually necessary for new growth, proper nutrients, healthy habitats for animals, and the necessary thinning of overcrowded forests.

(Think about this like purging your Facebook friends list. Eliminating the relationships that are no longer life-giving makes more room and time for new and deeper relationships, and for nurturing the growing relationships you already have.)

Not surprisingly, the problem with allowing nature to takes its course in the forest is a human one. People have moved into these woodland areas. Therefore, allowing the fires to burn out on their own would mean the loss of many homes and communities.

Of course this is just my very simplified version of the issue. But hopefully a reminder that we need to take care of our beautiful earth AND the people in it.

With special thanks to the firefighters who specialize in controlling and containing the wildfires in California!

do the thing

Last night I spoke to our local Lions Club about my walk across Spain.

I've had lots of opportunities to share about my experience, and each time it comes out a little differently. But I think I've finally figured out what I've been trying to say:

DO THE THING

The thing that stirs in your heart. The thing that gives you joy. The thing you long for. The thing you know you are made to do. The thing you are afraid of. The thing you would do if you won the lottery. The thing you would do if you only had one month to live. The thing you are most passionate about. The thing you want to be remembered for. The thing. Whatever it is. Do it. Do the thing.

I know not everyone wants to walk across Spain. And I don't think everyone should. But I know that everyone wants to do something:

Adopt. Host a foreign exchange student. Be the president of the Lions Club. Donate food to the local pantry or towels to the local shelter. Run with the bulls. Canoe down the Amazon. Graduate. Pay off student loans. Learn to read. Join a book club. Protest for peace. Fight for your country. Quit a job. Start your own company. Take a photography class. Bungee jump. Sing. Dance. Fly. Move. 

No matter how big. No matter how small. Whatever it is. Do it. 

DO THE THING. 

That is the message I have to share.

And here is some added inspiration: One year ago TODAY I attended a lecture in which a retired teacher shared her experiences of walking el Camino de Santiago. And I decided that "now" was as good a time as any to do the thing.

Here I am. A mere year later. And now I... ME... I am the one sharing the experience of my own walk. Hoping to inspire others. Like she inspired me. To do the thing.  

 

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.

Frozen Choices

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

married in McDonalds

One of the many life lessons that I took away from my time in Spain is that we can't confine God to a "box" (ie., a church building).

I expected to come to know and love the Lord better in churches and cathedrals, through prayer and walking meditation, learning to recite the 23rd Psalm in Spanish, and honoring the Sabbath. But, in retrospect, I spent very little time doing any of those things.

And yet, I still came away feeling closer to God.

Because I encountered God in the people I walked with, the hospitality shown to me when I was tired and hungry, conversations over bread and wine, tending to one another's feet. Rainbows and snow covered mountains, watching shepherds tend their sheep.

Which shouldn't be surprising. After all, Jesus spent way more time outside the church -- on mountain tops, beside the sea, in gardens and other people's homes -- than he did inside.

And while I still think it is important to have a church home where we regularly attend, we shouldn't think that God can only be experienced within those walls.

I was reminded of this yesterday when I shared this picture on my Facebook page, asking friends if they would marry their partners where they first met:

As I read through their responses: French class, 4-H camp, BP gas station, church, square dance, martini bar, football stadium... I couldn't help but think that these are all perfect places to get married. On the travel channel this week I even saw a wedding in McDonalds. And that seemed perfect too.

Because they are places of significance to the couple. Maybe where they fell in love at first site. Or at least the place where the energy of one first encountered the energy of the other. A reminder of how and why they came together.

Not long ago I would have told you that church was the best place to get married. I might have gone so far as to say the only place for a Christian couple. Symbolizing the importance of God's role as the One holding it all together.

But God has been working in my heart to get me to lighten up. To remind me that nothing can separate us from his love -- not a gas station or a fast food drive-thru, not an elementary school hallway or Ohio stadium when Ohio State and Michigan are playing.

And if God is in all those places he can certainly honor commitments we make in those places. After all, it's the commitment that is important, not the place.

going nowhere

Kasen: "I hate hiking. We aren't even going anywhere."

You will have to forgive Kasen's attitude. We were "forcing" him to hike on a morning when it was already 83 degrees, with an added 73% humidity. And it was true--we weren't going anywhere. We were simply wandering the trails until we got tired and turned around.

But it made me pause. And think. Because hiking is my absolute favorite thing to do.

How could I love something so much that gets me nowhere?

Granted, some hikes have destinations. The bottom of the Grand Canyon. The top of Mount Whitney. A waterfall or hot spring. But most times I hike simply to hike.

I love feeling the earth beneath my feet. I love the green plants and towering trees. I'm not a fan of bugs but I can appreciate the architecture of a spider's web as long as I'm not walking right into it. I love listening to creatures I cannot see, making their way thru leaves and debris. I love the distant sounds of cars and planes, reminding me that I am my own mode of transportation. I love the space it gives me to think and dream and breathe, or to empty my mind of everything.

So hiking, for me, is not actually about getting anywhere. In fact, I think it is a gift to have no idea where you are going to end up and still be able to enjoy the journey.

Because success is not always having an end goal. Or everything turning out the way we planned. And we don't have to wait to arrive in order to be happy. We can be happy every step of the way, if we begin to see the ordinary moments for the extraordinary moments that they are, even if they don't appear to lead us anywhere. Even if we have to turn around or begin again. Because it is in the dailiness of life that we see who we really are.

And I for one want to be someone who can enjoy life, whether I am going somewhere or nowhere at all.

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

an imprint only you can leave

"God's given us this fingerprint that nobody else has, that nobody has ever had in history, that nobody in the future will ever have, so that we can leave an imprint in the world that nobody else can leave." - Keith Craft

Kasen and Grandpa

an ant is a bug

Tessa: Aunt Katie, are you a mom or a dad?
Me: Neither.
Tessa: You are a mom AND a dad!
Me: No. "Neither" means I'm not a mom and I'm not a dad.
Tessa: Then what are you?
Me: I'm an aunt.
Tessa: An ant is a bug.

To the kids, "aunt" is not a title, like mom or dad or grandma or grandpa. To them, I don't have an "other name", like dad whose other name is Tim, or grandpa whose other name is Tom. To the kids, "aunt" does not define my relationship with their father. It's simply my name. Aunt Katie. Not Katie. Not Katie Terrell. But Aunt Katie. (And "ant" also happens to be a bug.)

Our society is such that titles are important. The world tells us they give us value. And without them we can feel as insignificant as Tessa's ant.

I've held the title of Mrs. and Mom and Editor. But through change and circumstance I can no longer claim these. To the world I'm simply Katie. To the kids I'm simply Aunt Katie. And sometimes that is a hard thing to be.

It's not the life God wants for us. God doesn't want us to get our value from titles or roles or corner offices. He wants us to know we are worthy without any of those things. That the title "child of God", which we can all claim, is the only one that matters.

But it can be a real challenge. When the world says otherwise. And you feel more like an ordinary ant than a child of the King.

graduation

My nieces graduated from preschool yesterday.

All of the kids were adorable, singing songs about ice cream and guacamole, receiving their diplomas, walking down the aisle to Pomp and Circumstance.

But in the grand scheme of things it was just another day.

Why? Because a ceremony can't capture all that they have learned. Experienced. The fun. The challenges. Growth. Daily victories. The hilarious things that come out of their mouths (during yesterday's slideshow Tessa kept asking when she was going to get to play on the slides). The light bulbs that go off when they finally connect. Friendships made. With students, teachers, parents, and aides.

It's kind of like walking across Spain. And expecting the Cathedral in Santiago (or the piece of paper you get that says you walked there) to hold all of the magic. Only to realize that the moments you will forever cherish didn't take place on that last day. But all along the way. In the people you met, the mountains you climbed, the bones you broke, the tears and the laughs and the wine.

coincidence

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

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

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

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

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

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

Coincidences? Or God's way of winking?

birds

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

the in-between

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

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

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

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

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!