Ooops! Ouch! Pilgrimage.

Well, it was a week ago today that I had my accident.  One minute I'm walking to church; one second later I'm sitting on my bum with the realization that my left ankle is hurt... badly.  I love walking to church.  While I was completing my pilgrimage in Spain in 2011 my mind turned to home and how I could continue the experience.  I decided I would start walking to church every Sunday.
    Now I'd walked to church often over the years.  Richard and I would walk with Darcie and Gabrielle when they were kids.  In the summer months I would get back into the routine for a while.  But in October 2011 I decided to be very intentional about my walk.  I love it!  My worship begins when I say "goodbye" and walk out the back door.  Sometimes it's enriched by one or more of my grandchildren joining me.   Sometimes it meant really bundling up last winter.  There were Sundays when my face hurt where my cold sunglasses touched my skin.  On many Sundays I walked along with my scarf pulled up over my nose and hat down over my forehead.  I always had a choice as to whether or not I would walk, but it did not take long to notice that others had no choice and were often out in the frigid air with minimal protection.
    So last Sunday I looked outside.  We'd had a fresh snowfall and it was a beautiful world of white.  That was the initial enticement.  I thought about ice, yeah, there will be some ice.  But I figured my snow boots would help with traction.  I also thought about the fact that I was preaching - not a time to take chances.  But again, I thought of how I walked all last winter... what could happen?   I didn't want to lose my rhythm of walking this early in the winter.
    I do have to say that I was thoroughly enjoying my walk when I went down.  It caught me by surprise and as I sat there it occurred to me (finally) that there was ice already under the snow from rain freezing earlier in the week.  I sat there and begged my leg to not be broken - maybe just a bad ankle sprain?  After unsuccessfully engaging the guy 3 houses down trying to start his snow blower (he looked at me, then went back to his snow blower), I got on all fours and headed to the little ledge around the shop and sat down.  As I looked up I saw the guy behind me who had been snow blowing the business on the other side of the street.  He had stopped and was looking at me.  I waved at him and he came over and let me use his phone (yes, I forgot to put mine in my pack). 

   As I sat there for the few minutes it took for Richard to come over, I started letting things go: no, there was no way I was going to preach, no way I'd be able to participate in the Boar's Head Festival, and on and on.  If I hadn't been in such pain I would have noticed the beginning of a pilgrimage right then... for much of my Camino experience was about letting go.  But after a trip to the brand new E.R. at Baystate (which was so quiet!), surgery, pain meds, and finally a return home, I got around to reflecting about pilgrimage and realized that accidentally, I had become a pilgrim.