Easter dawns

Dawn breaking over Villar de Mazerife, Spain, October 2016

How often do many of use the old adage “it is always darkest before the dawn” without thinking about it? Very often, that is the answer. When I was on Camino de Santiago in September and October 2016, I learned the truth of the saying. While walking on the portion of the Camino known as “the meseta,” the flat northern plains in Spain, we would leave our albergues in the dark. Walking in darkness, it would actually get a bit colder and a bit darker as sunrise approached. At that time the sun was not coming up until after 8am, so it was not even that early. But it was that cold and that dark.

Then each day would offer us a gift if we turned around, we would see the faintest hint of light on the horizon behind us. Dawn would soon break, dispelling the darkness and the cold. Soon, the sun would blaze overhead and the temperatures would rise. We would walk on, donning hats and sunglasses, adding sunscreen to arms newly bared as we peeled away layers of clothing.

Every day felt new when this moment happened, as if we had not witnessed it the day before. Every day was joy.

Today as I consider that it is Easter, but that it feels like anything but, I am reminded to focus on the cold and dark for a moment before I recognize what it happening… Each day we rise again and again and again.

This Easter may be the coldest and darkest pre-dawn moment that many of us will ever know, but hold this thought in your mind, grasp it as tightly as you do when you cling to Christ… Dawn will break, the darkness will be eradicated and flooded with light, the cold will turn to warmth.

Rejoice in the Alleluia that signifies the Risen Christ! No matter how cold and dark it feels, and often we must remain in that place for longer than we wish, may we all know the hope of belief in the Living God.

May your Easter be blessed in these unusual times. Darkness is dispelled, Jesus has destroyed death forever! New life springs forth! Easter dawns and Christ is risen! Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia!

Advertisement

Día de Santiago

Top: Sue, St. James, and me, with Dave looking on from behind us. Bottom: Deb looking as cute as ever, ready to hang out longer and wait for her bag to arrive.

Today is the feast of the apostle Saint James. In Spain he is known as Santiago and today is Día de Santiago. In the city of Santiago de Compostela there will be great celebrations. The streets will be teeming with pilgrims – peregrinos – many who are arriving at the end of their pilgrimage.

Our pilgrim feet and a way marker in Santiago de Compostela, Spain

The weight of my heart seems to increase with joy as I recollect my own first steps into the city I had long dreamed of and had finally arrived. Santiago – the city of so many hopes and dreams, at last. Perhaps the longest part of the entire journey was walking from the city boundary to the Cathedral plaza. Thanks to many generous souls I was able to make this journey. Each and every day as I pray I continue to think of all of you who supported me and my gratitude is eternal.

The photos at the top of the post are taken with a statue of Santiago that includes a desk – as you can see! We left Frómista on the morning of October 6, 2016 after a stay at a truly terrible albergue. Today that stay makes for some hilarious storytelling, but it was not funny then and  we were grateful to shake the Frómista dust from our shoes and to press onward.

Santa Maria Blanca Villacazar de Sirga

A few hours later we stopped in Villalcázar de Sirga where we had something to eat at a small cafe and visited a beautiful church, Santa María la Blanca. On our way out of town we stopped at the statue for picture taking. Deb was waiting for her backpack, which she had shipped to this slightly-more-than-halfway point in our journey. Leaving her behind, Sue and I departed and made our way to Carrión de los Condes. If Frómista was one of our least favorite places, Carrión de los Condes ended up one of our favorites. – but that’s another story for another day.

Recalling the Camino always reminds me of the joy and goodness all around. The hardest days and worst places perpetually giving way to the sweetest memories, challenge yielding to joy without fail. On this feast day of St. James we are reminded that we are all pilgrims on a path, and that while we may journey separately, we are united in so many ways.

May el apóstol, as Santiago is often referred to in Spain, bless you without end as you make your way.

¡Buen camino y ultreia!

Keep walking

Photo taken at the Museo das Peregrinacións e de Santiago

Today is the Feast of St. James, patron of pilgrims. The Camino Santiago is named for him – Saint James translates to Santiago. Two years ago on this day, I dreamed of what it might feel like to go on the Camino de Santiago, to leave St. Jean Pied de Port, France on foot end up in Santiago de Compostela, Spain. Like millions of other pilgrims over the past 1200 years or so, I found out.

Santiago, Patron of PIlgrims. Photo taken at the Museo das Peregrinacións e de Santiago.

To walk the Camino is a real gift; it will change your life in every possible way. I know that it did mine! How grateful I am that I was able to be a pilgrim, in great part because of so many of you and your generosity. Your material support and prayers carried me along The Way.  Aches, pains, blisters, frustration were all part of the mix. However, what is enduring is the pure joy of awaking each day, lifting up your pack, and walking. And walking. And walking. The walking is often alone, quiet, peaceful. There is also communal time, shared with joy with friends from around the world.

All along the path one is reminded of St. James, Santiago, el apóstol, the patron of pilgrims. On the Camino or in daily life, we are all pilgrims. Today and every day, may your steps be blessed. St James, patron of pilgrims, watch over us all.

Ultreia! Keep Walking! Buen camino! Siempre camino!

Looking at Lent, continuing the Camino

Lent begins this week. Each year many of us make an effort to begin Lent and to stick with whatever we have chosen to give up or take on.

Perhaps last year was too close to the completion of my Camino for me to see this as clearly, but this year I am profoundly aware of the magnetic pull of my Camino as I pray about entering Lent. The two journeys parallel paths are ever closer together, one journey completed, another about to begin. That Camino and Lent are related is not unusual; what is different is how I am experiencing it this year. It is more of an invitation or call, it is less of an idea. It is from deep within, thus so much harder to ignore.

All is know as I prepare to depart is this… my expectations for what will happen and what will happen are likely to be markedly different. This year, may I surrender ever more easily to where the “flechas amarillas“ (or yellow arrow way markers of camino) lead me to, rather than my own dogged persistence about where I “think” or “feel” I should go. Head and heart are required during any spiritual sojourn, but trusting God to lead is the challenge.

How do you imagine your Lenten journey as it approaches?

Wait – what?

Hot, huffing, and puffing, I was four days into my camino. Strangely enough, my knees were not bothering me nearly as much as I imagined they would, nor were my legs too sore, but I was dogged by blisters. And by the overstimulated exhaustion that can come about in the pursuit of a dream. Four days in, I was still a Camino Santiago neophyte without a clue.

Making it to the top of Alto del Perdon was no joke. It was not as steep as it was to get from St. Jean Pied de Port to Orisson, nor was as long and hard as it was to keep going uphill from there on the way to Roncesvalles. It was however hot! And again, those blisters. Ouchie. Anyway, making it to the top of Alto del Perdon was also a glorious moment – what a famous spot for those who know the Way of St. James! It is the place where the “the path of the wind meets the path of the stars.” In a word – magical.

Like most matters of faith, the high is often followed by a challenge. So consumed was I with getting up Alto del Perdon, I gave little thought to getting down. An essential camino lesson for me was this – going down is often far worse than going up. As we began our descent, my weariness gave way to an overwhelming anxiety with each footfall on the steep and rocky path. In fact, I felt certain that I might not be able to get down. I simply believed that I could not do it. And you know where that kind of thinking gets you.

In today’s Gospel from John, Nicodemus pays a visit to Jesus. At night. I love this imagery, poor old Nicodemus sneaking into see Jesus under the cover of darkness. It is a real struggle for Nicodemus to understand what it means to be “born again” and to be “born of the Spirit.” Here he is wrestling, like anyone who is inclined to being too literal, wondering how a “man once grown old” gets back into the womb to be born again. As usual, Jesus is trying to tell him. Jesus speaks to us in ways that leave us no place to go but deep into our hearts. Our literal and practical heads won’t allow us to understand, although our literal, practical – you know, our “realistic” heads – the ones that we value in the material world. Overvalue, it would seem.  Nicodemus is basically saying, “Wait – what?”

Personal desert

I’m enjoying being off of Facebook for Lent, and spending my time on Instagram with one post per day; a photo and a mini-reflection. You will have to head over to my Instagram feed, or to my Facebook page (where my Instagram auto posts) to read my reflection for today. Essentially, I am thinking about Jesus instructing us to love our enemies.

Hardest. Thing. Ever.

I’ll gladly take a long walk with a heavy cross on my back than to do this. Yet, I try to constantly push myself to do so. I suck at it, by the way. Big time.

It occurs to me that part of the problem is my own lack of willingness to look at the enemy within. Of course I am well aware of that enemy, but my inner looking often results in things like my own defensiveness about myself, my shame, and my superhuman strength at avoiding and denial. I’m great at that stuff. Big time.

All of this is an invitation to me, a good deal of which is more clear this Lent because I am spending less time “talking” via Facebook. Painful is my awareness this Lent that the driest and most arid desert is often found deep within my own heart. Thus, the gifts of death and new life are made clear, but only if I am willing to keep going.

What does your inner search Please be assured of my prayers as we ply our way through deserts of our own making. God offers us so much more, but even for those of us who say we will follow, do we really?

Blisters of privilege, prayers of choice

My blistered feet entering an allegedly healing pool.

They were sometimes like a hot knife plunged into my lower extremities, at other times, simply walking on broken glass. My blisters during the first two weeks of my Camino were horrible. One day, Sue and I entered the town of Villafranca Montes de Oca and I simply had to stop walking. It was too much, I could not take the pain. What happened next is a long story for another day, just let it suffice to say, my feet were wrecked. Would I be able to continue my Camino? (Spoiler alert for new readers, thanks be to God, I did.)

With nearly every blistered step I took, I was aware of how privileged I was to even be in this situation. All I could think about when my feet, my knees, or general tiredness bothered me was that I chose to be where I was. Not so far away from me, migrants were to be found all over Europe. The vast majority of them fled their homes, not by choice, not due to any luxury, but due to violence, hunger, the threat of war, and the ever-present reality of death. I tried to pray with and for them with every painful footfall, even after my blisters were overall healed.

Today is

Timeless Surrender

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Like pretty much everyone else, I can’t wait for tomorrow to be over. When I was on Camino, I was marginally aware of what was going on, but I really tried to tune out. Not having TV, newspapers, or a lot of time to look at my phone was a great antidote to election-obsession. Well, now I am back. As I try not to be obsessed, I am more aware and more focused on the news.

A particular thought goes through my mind as I listen to the doomsday predictions of what will happen if

Where it happens

The Meseta, somewhere after Castrojeriz, but before Fromista

It is very hard to go on Camino Santiago. Physically, emotionally, spiritually. At the beginning – if you start in St Jean Pied de Port – you are faced with a strenuous climb on day one. That’s true even if you only go as far as Orisson on that day, like we did. On day two you continue to face a big climb, followed by a big descent. Then you arrive at Roncesvalles where arrival at the albergue is pretty much the opposite of the intimate and warm greeting at Orrison. Crowds, shouted orders, lines, food tickets and more.  It was disorienting to say the least, not to mention the exhaustion, the questions (why am I here?) and more.

On the way to Orisson

On the way to Roncesvalles

Days follow, more trials and challenges. You come to find that everything in Spain in uphill. Well, almost everything it seems. Then you realize that uphill is difficult, but downhill – that stuff will mess you up! It is worse! Soon enough you believe you will be fine because you are on the Meseta. The thing is, it is not always flat, but it is hot, dry, dusty, and desolate, providing its own brand of challenge.

Now if I am making the Camino sound awful, slow down. It is amazing, but it is no stroll in the park. The point is, going on Camino is a gift and privilege, but it is also a big challenge. It is hard.

Yet, here is what may be even harder – returning home and re-entering the stream of life. That’s hard too, at least after 48 hours. I am so happy to be back home and with Mark. I loved taking my own shower in my own bathroom and sleeping in my own bed.

The Camino happens not only in Spain, but it happens in the “room” that is one’s heart. And I need to stay in the “room where it happens.” (Sorry, can’t resist a #Hamilton reference!)  So my question today is this… how will I do this?

The answer? So far, I do not know, but I know that my Camino heart-room is the anchor that must keep me from drifting. There’s no going back to either who I was before I left, and there’s no going back to Spain. At least not right now, regarding the latter.

Today my prayer is that I can stay in the room where it happens… no matter where I am. You cannot stay on the Camino for your entire life, but you can stay on pilgrimage in your heart.

Oh – one more thing. All that challenge and misery inducing climbing and descending and walking through the long, lonely flats? It is great and wonderful and powerful and beautiful! Why? Because that is how God invites you to the change of being physically, emotionally, and spiritually stronger. But only if you allow God to do so. And only if you allow yourself to stay put in the room of your heart with God. I’ll be working on that, as I worked on my lung capacity and leg strength at the beginning of my Camino, with every step a prayer.

The Camino continues…

Sue and I on the way to Orrison, day 1.

 

Thank you for the prayers and support along the Way – we arrived home last night. My Camino partner and friend Sue and I had an exceptional journey. We did not love every minute, but how we loved it all.

Please know that all of you were held in my heart as I walked. In The Camino defied every expectation, physical, emotional, spiritual. It was more of all than I could have ever imagined. Maybe that is the most important thing, imagining is nothing, it is only made real as one walks.

Deb, me, Sue, & Jen

My cat decided that I should wake up earlier than I planned, so I decided to once again watch the movie The Way. As much as I thought I would recognize places, I did not recognize so many, although I was aware that places were “out of order” when I did recognize them! Hey, it was a movie, so that’s OK. What struck me as the most accurate thing in the film was the sense of community and friendship on the Camino, it really got that part right! For me the Camino is forever intertwined with such beautiful people, whether I met them for a moment, or if I walked with them for days. The Camino is a place where people live generously, and that is what I hope to carry home more than anything.

Three photos for today – our beginning, our geographical middle, and our arrival in Santiago. The end? There is no end, as the Camino continues in ways yet untold. How grateful I am, and how grateful I continue to be. More to follow.

The arrival at the Cathedral