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. 

The Handkerchief

   One of the decisions made as I prepared for the Camino was around blowing my nose.  Every morning I have to blow my nose.  I've assumed it's my sinuses draining, and that's a good thing, so I always try to have a tissue in my pocket.  Cold weather also activates my nose, and I knew there was a possibility of some cold mornings and nights in Spain.  I was going to have to take tissues with me - lots of them.
   But one day I noticed my husband pulling out his handkerchief.  The light went on and I saw a better solution:  take two handkerchiefs so I could wash one each day: a simple but great solution. 
    A couple of weeks before I made it to Santiago I fell into step with three pilgrims from Vancouver Canada.  One of them, Gail, noticed me hanging out my handkerchief one day and commented that she had brought her husband's handkerchief and thought of him each time she pulled it out of her pocket.  I realized I was doing the same thing only I thought of Richard as I blew my nose.  It sounded more romantic to say I thought of him as I went for my handkerchief, or as I pulled it from my pocket. 
    Now that I am home, I have made a change based on this Camino experience.  After my mom died I tucked away a large collection of handkerchiefs.  I think they came from at least of three of her four sisters from my grandmother also.  Now I have them out and am using them.  It's great!  They work better than tissue, never falling apart on me.  If I forget one in a pocket it does not make a mess of my wash.  My use of tissues is greatly reduced, and hopefully that will save some trees along the way.   And best of all, I carry wonderful memories of my Grandmother, Mom, and Aunts with me as I carry their handkerchiefs in my pocket.
     I've mentioned that part of my fascination with the Camino was walking a path that thousands have walked before me.  Now, a very ordinary part of my daily routine, putting a handkerchief in my pocket, connects me with some strong women who also walked before me.  Only they knew me, laughed with me, corrected me, sang to and with me and prayed for me.  May you be blessed by the memory of people who have enriched your life.  Buen Camino!

Sophia

    I'm going through my journal to see what stories did not get into the blog.  I wrote quite a bit about the ruins of the Convent of San Anton (shooting stars and hospitality), but did not share about a little girl I met.  She arrived with her father that evening.  I don't know if they drove or walked over, but he settled on a bench and was trying to get his young daughter (about 4?) to eat.  She was much more interested in everything else.  She had big blue eyes and a beautiful round face surrounded by black curls.  And she smiled constantly.  I asked her father her name.  He answered, "Sophia."
     I was sitting on a bench on the other side of the courtyard and she made her way to me.  She spoke to me in Spanish, then I told her "No hablo Espanol."  That didn't phase her.  I told her "Hablo Inglese."  She continued to talk away in Spanish.  I would love to have known what she was telling me as she turned around and began to look around among the rocks on the grounds.  She spied a feather and brought it over to me.  She made it very clear that she was giving it to me and I told her "Gracias."  She looked more and found another feather, and another.  I realized that a pigeon had probably met its end in this courtyard and wasn't sure I wanted all of the remaining feathers, but Sophia continued to gather and bring them over to me - always accompanied by a lovely string of explanation, narration, or maybe exhortation.  I continued to smile, tell her "Gracias" and every so often remind her that I didn't speak Spanish.
    It is a lovely experience to receive the gifts of a child.  She did not need a mall or a large department store.  She didn't have to know me really well.  She saw something that to her was special, and she saw someone she could give it to.  It was great for me to practice just receiving without feeling I had to give her something also.  It seemed that all she needed or wanted was my acceptance of her gift.   I don't know if Sophia's father takes her to San Anton often, or if they were traveling that night and he knew it was a good place to stop, but I am grateful for that short time with this lovely little girl and her gifts.
    May you cherish the simple gifts in your life.  Buen Camino!

The Good Shepherd

        I am still making the transition from the Camino, but I do finally have my photos dowloaded from my camera (Thank you, Jim!).   I think I mentioned that one of the computers I used in Spain fried the USB adapter that I put the memory card in.  Well, when I returned home I found that the memory card itself must have been damaged as I could not get my photos to download.   A friend who is a photographer was able to find the right piece of equipment to get the pictures out of the camera.  

    So I've added some of the pictures I had wanted to put in originally.   One blog I never wrote, but thought about often, was about sheep.  About 10 days into the Camino I was walking along and all of a sudden a bunch of sheep were moving in front of me- or I should say they moved in front of me, blocked the road, and stopped.  Their shepherd was in the place where they no doubt lived (a stable?  barn?).  He was yelling at them and dogs were barking at them as he tried to get them to move across the Camino path and into the field beyond.  But they weren't moving.  The ones in the front came to a dead stop rather than move beyond the path. 

   Now my friend Kelly tells me that sheep are stupid.  I didn't get to watch them long enough to confirm, but I certainly saw that they were completely unmotivated.  Or maybe they were just afraid about what was ahead in that field - was fear holding them back?  Whatever it was, the shepherd sounded very frustrated and was yelling loudly.  I wondered how often this routine was repeated - daily?  Had the shepherd not found a better way to deal with the sheep?  They did finally start to move forward and once one did they all followed, but it took a lot of shoving from the back and barking by the dogs.

     Less than a week later I saw another shepherd.  This time the shepherd was quietly walking along, the sheep following.  There were a couple of dogs, but they stayed towards the back and were quietly walking also.  Maybe the sheep were use to this routine.  Maybe it had been difficult getting them started in the morning, but it struck me as a different kind of shepherding.  He walked first, quietly and confidently, and the sheep seemed to be fine with following.

    After seeing the first shepherd I had started thinking about Psalm 23 with God described as "The Lord is my shepherd...".    Jesus is also seen as the good shepherd and we are to be the sheep.  I didn't like the idea of a shepherd yelling at me: pushy and noisy.  I was more inclined toward the shepherd who simply led the way.  But then, on the Meseta, when there were days that I had to keep walking even though my feet hurt, I was hot, I was tired...  well, maybe a shepherd yelling at me to keep moving might have been helpful.  I was certainly talking to God quite a bit at those times.  So I continued to think about these two shepherds.

    Then I saw still another one.  This time he was at the top of a slope, just sitting and watching as his dogs moved the sheep up the slope to the drinking troughs.

   





    Now that was an image.  I could picture God the Shepherd as the one with the big picture - the overview.  From the shepherd's place he would be able to see if any sheep went in the wrong direction and the dogs missed them.  If they did I'm sure the shepherd would be the one to go after that one sheep.  But here the dogs really had a significant role.  They were in charge of getting the sheep to move, of getting them to the goal.  And I tell you, they were working hard.   Besides the one that jumped into the trough the other one walked up behind the shepherd and just flopped on the ground covered with sweat and panting.  Hard work bringing sheep to water.

    Well, finally, towards the end of the Camino I saw my last shepherd - this time a woman.  I was on the side of the road resting when I saw her walking with the sheep.  I expected them to continue right by me, but instead she headed them into the woods.   That surprised me - both that they were going that way, and that the sheep actually turned and went!  I wondered how this shepherdess worked with the sheep to get them to head into the woods.  Was there something very familiar just beyond that I didn't see?  Were they smarter sheep?  Better trained? 

     While in Spain, where shepherding is a real occupation, I had the chance to see better why God might be called our Shepherd - why Jesus would be the Good Shepherd.  May the love of the Shepherd be present in your life today.  Bueno Camino!

Thinking about prayer

    I was going to call this a post script, but on second thought, I think I will continue writing for a while.  I'd like to share some of the things that were going around in my mind, but couldn't find a computer and by the time I did I was on to something else.  Also, I have pictures I'd like to share, but I'm still having some technical troubles in that area so that is yet to come.  So... if you like, you can continue to check this blog.  If you are having emails sent automatically and no longer want to follow the blog, well... good luck with that.  I have no idea how to get you off.  But I promise I will check on that at some point.  I'm still learning my way around this thing and at least I don't have to insert euros or hold up others waiting for the internet anymore.
    I've been thinking about prayer since I saw my friends John, Pat and Russell (from Australia) in Santiago.  Back on Sept 23 I had dinner with them.  We had been meeting off and on since we entered the region of Castilla y Leon early in the Camino.  John and Pat are married and their friend Russell had heard of the Camino years ago and felt drawn to it.  Russell had a lot of problems with blisters, but she was doing well since Leon.  Pat, though, had a knee that was causing her a lot of trouble.
   The morning after our dinner I walked four miles to Villafranca, then stopped for some breakfast.  There I ran into my three Aussie friends again.  At this point we could take the more scenic but difficult route over the mountain, or walk closer to the road on an easier route.  All four of us had decided to go over the mountain - the one I wrote about a while back that nearly did me in.  As I told them good-bye and headed out, Pat asked me to pray for her as she wasn't sure how her knee would do. 
   So I did, in fact as I realized what a long sharp incline I was on I prayed even harder for Pat.  I was throwing in some prayers for myself also.  On the descent I started to pray more fervently for both of us, but as I prayed I just couldn't imagine how this could go well for Pat.  I knew my own knees were feeling the stress of the constant downward movement-- how was Pat's bad knee going to manage?  What could God possibly do for her?
   It's interesting, I had no problem praying for Pat... for myself, for Russell and John also.  But I also have a feeling that God really has more to do than look out for a few people on one mountain on a particular day.  I pray though I just don't always know how all this works; why should God be involved in the small details of my everyday life?
    I heard from mutual friends that they saw John, Pat and Russell at O'Cebreiro the next day, so I knew they had made it that day, but I was very curious about how it had gone.  Finally, a couple of days after I had arrived in Santiago I saw them in the plaza outside the cathedral.  We had a joyful reunion, then I told Pat that I had been praying for her that day in September.  She said, "You did?  You really did?  Guess what happened?"  Then she told me about how John as their navigator led them onto what he thought was the turn for the mountain.  But he had made an error and too late they realized they were on the eaiser road route.  Pat gave me a big grin and said she did fine on that day and was ready the next day to go up O'Cebreiro.
   So did God listen to me and then micro-manage John so he missed the turn?  I doubt it.  (And besides, why didn't God make that descent easier for me if God really was listening to my prayer!)   But maybe God doesn't have to hear our particular requests - just the act of praying is important because we're connecting with our Creator and also with one another.  And maybe that opens the door for good things to happen:  people with weak knees take the wrong route, and other people tackle difficult mountains -obstacles they had thought impossible.
      My Pilgrim's Credential includes some short suggestions under the heading "Spirit of the Camino."  One says, "Sense the prayers of those who have gone before you, leave good will behind for those who will come after you, appreciate your companions who walk with you."  Another notes, "Give thanks at the end of each day."  The Camino had a spirit about it in which I truly felt the prayers of all those who had gone before in addition to those carrying me in prayer as I walked.   Early in this blog I mentioned a Korean woman that I met, Maria, and asked for prayers for her.  I never did see her again.  But I have a sense that the spirit of the Camino and all the prayers before have helped her in her own pilgrimage.  May our conversations with God continue and deepen as well as our concerns for one another.  Bueno Camino! 
  

Finistierre: The end of the world, and the beginning of new worlds

Looking out from Finisterre

   So yesterday I visited the end of the world: Finistierre.  It was a 2 and 1-2 hour bus ride from Santiago.  I must have taken the local coming back as it was even longer, but we followed the coast all but the last 30-40 minutes... a beautiful ride!

    Finistierre is a lovely town on the coast - beautiful ocean, beaches, fishing boats, piers...   After we got off the bus some of the pilgrims who were staying went off to settle into an alberque.  Since mine was a day trip I started following the signs for "Faro", the lighthouse and the true end.  It was a 2-1/2km trek uphill with grand views back to Finistierre, down at the ocean breaking into rocks, and to the mountains at our side.  Finally we reached the end.

Almost to the end

   I´m not certain if the lighthouse is still in service.  We weren´t allowed to walk around much there.  But we could climb onto the large boulders and rocks and sit and look out at the ocean.   I was at the farthest out point of land and all I could see was the blue of the sea mixing with the blue mist of the sky to the point that I could not tell one from another on the horizon.  I sat there and could easily see why it was thought that this was the end of the earth.  There was no telling from my view what might happen farther out in the ocean.

THE END

   

So as I thought about this I thought about sailors.  I personally would not head out into the ocean beyond where I could see land - and I know that even when I see land I get confused about what I am looking at from out on water.  Things just look differently.  I use land and landmarks for guidance, but sailors use stars and a larger picture for guidance.  It is the sailors from the norse country that made it to North America.  It was the sailors that helped Paul to set out to cover a larger area as he evangelized.  It was a sailor, Christopher Columbus, who finally broke the stalemate of living with what was known at one time and set out on an adventure to see if there might be a different answer.

     Edwin Friedman writes about this significant event that broke open a medieval world and pushed the world into the renaissance, new understandings about our universe and world, and a new age of learning.  It certainly meant adjustments for the church also as it tried to remain rigid with its teachings.  And then we have the peregrinos who for hundreds of years had been traveling to Santiago de Compostela, which could not have been anything but an adventure with that same possibility of death that Columbus and his crew faced.   All along the way we have seen ancient cemeteries for the burial of pilgrims.  But we have also seen crosses all along the way commemorating the death of modern pilgrims who died on their journey.   What was it like for those peregrinos - what courage they had but there must have been many fears.  But just as now, death can come at anytime, not just on a pilgrimage.

    In that way I guess I´ve always thought of life itself as a journey.  I don´t know when mine will end, but I can make choices about how I will live within this life.  Along the Camino I have learned a lot about what I can tolerate (cleanliness is greatly overrated), I learned about my own impatience and the great blessing of those days when I remembered to be patient with others.   I have learned that each person has a story - a reason for the fear, sadness, joy, peace in their face.  I have learned that the aches and pains of one day can heal with a good night´s sleep.  I have learned that we can communicate with others in many more ways than language.  As I continue to process my five-week Camino I continue to harvest other lessons.   I´m sure they will continue to come throughout the following months.

    So how shall I live in the years remaining?  I hope that I will look for and find the blessings in each day.  I seek to be patient with others and to encourage rather than criticize.  I hope to be one who will listen to the stories of others, walk with them in times of happiness and sorrow.  I seek the courage to speak out when I see injustice.  I pray that love and joy will lace through each of my days - and I know that it will be my own choices that will help to make that happen.  I will seek other adventures, pilgrimages, ways to break myself from my own routines, fears... those things that might keep me from changing and growing. 
   I´ve been to the end of the world, and I´ve returned.  The Camino is finished, and now I begin.  Thank you so much for traveling with me, I can not express how much it has meant to me to be held in your thoughts and prayers.  May your own Camino be a very special story - I know it already is for it is yours.  May God´s peace and grace go with you until we meet again.  Bueno Camino!

For Whom the Bell Tolls

Holding my Compostela, safe in its tube

   I write today from Santiago - finally found a bar with a computer.  Last Friday as I continued to get closer to Santiago de Compostela I heard a church bell tolling in the distance - someone had died.  I would not have known this, but the night before I heard a slow mournful tolling of the bell from the church in the little village where I was staying.  It would ring low twice, then a high, minor bell.  Low...      Low...   Higher...  Over and over for about 1-2 hour, very, very slowly.  It drew me to the church - but just as I arrived the tolling stopped.  When I walked into the church a young man came down from the balcony and though he spoke in Spanish I knew he was telling me that I needed to leave.  Sure enough, as I was walking past the graves in the cemetery outside the church I saw a car arrive, then another, and another.  The tolling was calling mourners to gather for a funeral.

   So as I walked on Friday I heard this bell in the distance ringing for over 45 minutes.  It did not have the low, low, high, but rather just one bell, over and over, and again... very slowly.  I wondered if it was calling people to a  funeral.  It was around noontime and I thought that was an odd time in Spain to schedule something.  It also went on for such a long time...  I started to wonder if it was just acknowledging that someone had died, or maybe it was a special person in the community?

   So as I was walking I was thinking about death.  I remember about 7 or 8 months before my dad died he told me he´d had a dream.  He walked into a room and the lights were low, but when his eyes adjusted he saw his brothers John and Roy (both deceased).  He looked around and then saw his dad and others.  Then he woke up just as his mother entered the room.  I asked him how it felt to be in that room.  He said "It was good."
   I don´t know what heaven or eternal life is like.  We certainly like to think that we will see our loved ones once again.  But it occurred to me that on Sunday when I enter Santiago I will experience a bit of heaven.  I was thinking, really hoping, that I would see people I have not see for a long time in my walking - people who were important to me on this Camino.  I had a preview of that on Friday night.  I was staying in Arzua and had just asked at the tourist kiosk how to get to the church.  As I walked down the street I glanced to my right and there was Leif (from Sweden) with some woman I didn´t recognize.  I hadn´t seen Leif and his wife Karin for at least two weeks or more.  I immediately crossed the street and we joyfully greeted one another.  He was having a glass of wine with Margit from Finland - another friend of theirs who they had not seen for sometime until that night.  So he took both of us back to their room in a hostel to see Karin who had been taking a nap (she had an encounter with many bedbugs and had an allergic reaction and the med made her sleepy). 
    We had a joyful reunion then went out to dinner together (and this time exchanged email addresses before separating again).  It was wonderful.  This lovely couple and I had been the only ones at a new alberque weeks earlier and had shared a dinner together that night.  We then saw each other twice again as we were visiting churches, then they disappeared.  I started to wonder who else I would get to see again.

    Saturday I walked 19 miles.  The guide suggested stopping in Arco but I arrived there at noon - to early to even go to the alberque.  I kept walking.  I stopped in a field and spread my poncho and ate cheese and bread.  Walked more.   Stopped again when I saw a woman sitting on a stone bridge with a lovely river underneath and nice shade.  She was  from Austria but now lives in Sacramento CA.  Soon Jean came by, from Los Angeles CA.   We talked about how unusual to have three people from the states together on the camino.

   Jean and I continued to walk together the rest of the afternoon.  It was hot and we kept looking for a place to stay.  In Lavacolla there is an airport so we checked at one of the hotels along the Camino.  They told us "NO ROOMS!"   We continued walking and when we saw a little bar in Vilamaior we decided to take a break - but wait!  There was a sign that they had rooms.  Jean and I shared a room that night, then the next morning we walked the final 7 miles into Santiago.

    There have been some reunions, but also there are those I have missed.  I never saw Cathy from Canda (who shares a birthday with me).  I know she had to leave October 3, so she is gone.  I will never see her again, but I share the memory of a lovely day walking with her as we went through Pamplona then headed up a mountain.   I didn´t think to say good-bye way back when - I didn´t realize we´d never see each other again.

A medieval festival is in Santiago the day we arrive

   So now that the Camino is over and I´m making the transition to prepare to return home.  Today I went to the end of the world.  I have some thoughts about that - I hope to share tomorrow.  (By the way, I think the last computer I used not only would not upload my pictures, but fried my adapter- hopefully I can add more when I get home).  Until then, Bueno Camino!

Having coffee with Jean and Ann Marie