I started off early the next morning,
vulnerability still enveloping me like an aura.
I felt very fragile
and, as I walked through beautiful woods filled with heather and broom,
and, as I walked through beautiful woods filled with heather and broom,
I again started to cry.
I was only a day away from Cruz de Ferro -
the Cross of Iron -
the highest point (geographically) of the whole Camino.
Tradition calls for pilgrims to place a stone at the foot of the cross,
to symbolize a laying down of their burdens.
I had chosen the stone I would leave with great intention
and had carried it with me since the day I left home.
It was frequently in my hand as I walked and prayed.
Since, for me, the stone represented all the children I'd worked
with during a long career in pediatrics,
it was no wonder that my thoughts turned to all those children who had died -
of either 'natural' causes
(acute illness or hereditary disease),
from acquired accidental injury,
but especially those who died of inflicted trauma;
those infants and toddlers who had been beaten to death
by someone who was supposed to love
and protect them.
The weight of accumulated losses was heavier than my backpack had ever been. -
and there was no sending it on to some guy in Santiago;
this was mine alone to carry.
I cried as I wondered if I was ready to let all of it go...
not only the pain of it,
but the ego and energy I'd invested
and the sense of identity I'd obtained from it.
As perverse as it may sound,
I had taken great satisfaction over the years
in being able to handle a job that most other people wouldn't dream of doing.
In giving it up, I felt I was giving up valued parts of who I am.
As long as I was giving free reign to deep feelings,
the clamor of sorrow for personal losses chimed in as well -
my sons father and my ex husband,
my parents,
dear friends,
ancestors from decades ago
who had loved me unconditionally as a child
and whose absence in my life was still palpable...
all claimed their place in my thoughts and my heart.
Preoccupied as I was by all these haunts,
I was barely aware of my physical surroundings -
until I tripped over a stone.
As I lurched forward, trying to right myself -
before doing a full face plant on the path -
I looked up.
Even though it hadn't been raining,
there was a rainbow -
and it seemed to be settled
right over a small building and enclosure up ahead.
I didn't need to get closer to recognize what it was -
a small chapel with an attached cemetery.
We had seen many cemeteries along the Way;
there had even been conversations with friends about how odd it was
that they were all enclosed by high walls -
did they think spirits would 'get out' if they didn't keep them penned in?
We'd all agreed that we certainly hoped the spirits were free and not confined to 4 walls!
I can't describe how instantly - or why - the sorrow and sadness lifted;
it was within the space of a heartbeat.
Such a vivid reminder of Gods promise -
that the things created through Gods love would never be destroyed;
in that moment, I knew that included Gods people.
All the ancestors,
all the children,
everyone I had just been mourning
were perfectly safe.
They might not be within my vision,
but they weren't gone.
It was such a moment of peace -
and it was pure gift.
The rainbow disappeared as I watched.
I laughed as I thanked God for not giving up on me -
Dear Lord, how he must despair at having to work overtime
to give me so many signs!
I had a picture of Him doing a palm smack to the forehead,
accompanied by a huge cosmic eye roll -
"Really? She needs another damn reminder?"
I knew I should have made her smarter!
As I walked on, I also knew exactly why I'd had to do this portion of the pilgrimage by myself.
I was able to finally look around and notice that the path had changed a bit...
there was now a chicken wire fence lining the right hand side;
and, again, pilgrims had taken small bits of wood
and fashioned crosses in the wire...
miles and miles of crosses.
OK - I might be a slow learner but I DID get it!
I continued on and, in the town right before my destination for the night,
I saw a man working in a side garden.
He was making benches.
He looked up, we made eye contact
and he invited me into his garden so we could sit and talk.
He was an ex-Benedictine monk.
He started to walk the Camino 3 years ago, after losing his faith.
He made it as far as Rabanal, and immediately felt both at peace and at home here.
He decided to stay and wait for God to find him.
While he waited, he made benches - for others who wait -
and he placed them around town and along the Way.
He asked me to tell him my story -
why was I on the Camino -
so I did.
When I mentioned I was walking slowly enough across Spain
so my soul could catch up with me,
he said I sounded like St Clare.
On her deathbed,
she apparently said she couldn't die yet
because her soul had the pace of an ass
and her soul wasn't all here yet.
I replied that I was in trouble then because I think mine caught up with me this morning!
When he stopped laughing,
I asked if he thought God would find him.
He said "I see glimpses - like today in your story - but He hasn't spoken directly to me yet".
He then asked that I pray for him in Santiago
and remind God where he lives now.
With a kiss and hug goodbye, I promised him I would.
When I reached the albergue where I was staying,
I realized why this building (below) shows up so often in blogs about the Camino.
At this point in the journey, this is exactly how you feel...
battered, weary, patched up, held together with whatever you can find -
but still standing!
complete with Three Billy Goats Gruff.
It had been an exhausting but an extraordinary day.
with during a long career in pediatrics,
it was no wonder that my thoughts turned to all those children who had died -
of either 'natural' causes
(acute illness or hereditary disease),
from acquired accidental injury,
but especially those who died of inflicted trauma;
those infants and toddlers who had been beaten to death
by someone who was supposed to love
and protect them.
and there was no sending it on to some guy in Santiago;
this was mine alone to carry.
I cried as I wondered if I was ready to let all of it go...
not only the pain of it,
but the ego and energy I'd invested
and the sense of identity I'd obtained from it.
As perverse as it may sound,
I had taken great satisfaction over the years
in being able to handle a job that most other people wouldn't dream of doing.
In giving it up, I felt I was giving up valued parts of who I am.
As long as I was giving free reign to deep feelings,
the clamor of sorrow for personal losses chimed in as well -
my sons father and my ex husband,
my parents,
dear friends,
ancestors from decades ago
who had loved me unconditionally as a child
and whose absence in my life was still palpable...
all claimed their place in my thoughts and my heart.
Preoccupied as I was by all these haunts,
I was barely aware of my physical surroundings -
until I tripped over a stone.
As I lurched forward, trying to right myself -
before doing a full face plant on the path -
I looked up.
there was a rainbow -
and it seemed to be settled
right over a small building and enclosure up ahead.
I didn't need to get closer to recognize what it was -
a small chapel with an attached cemetery.
We had seen many cemeteries along the Way;
there had even been conversations with friends about how odd it was
that they were all enclosed by high walls -
did they think spirits would 'get out' if they didn't keep them penned in?
We'd all agreed that we certainly hoped the spirits were free and not confined to 4 walls!
I can't describe how instantly - or why - the sorrow and sadness lifted;
it was within the space of a heartbeat.
Such a vivid reminder of Gods promise -
that the things created through Gods love would never be destroyed;
in that moment, I knew that included Gods people.
All the ancestors,
all the children,
everyone I had just been mourning
were perfectly safe.
They might not be within my vision,
but they weren't gone.
It was such a moment of peace -
and it was pure gift.
The rainbow disappeared as I watched.
I laughed as I thanked God for not giving up on me -
Dear Lord, how he must despair at having to work overtime
to give me so many signs!
I had a picture of Him doing a palm smack to the forehead,
accompanied by a huge cosmic eye roll -
"Really? She needs another damn reminder?"
I knew I should have made her smarter!
As I walked on, I also knew exactly why I'd had to do this portion of the pilgrimage by myself.
I was able to finally look around and notice that the path had changed a bit...
there was now a chicken wire fence lining the right hand side;
and, again, pilgrims had taken small bits of wood
and fashioned crosses in the wire...
miles and miles of crosses.
I continued on and, in the town right before my destination for the night,
I saw a man working in a side garden.
He was making benches.
He looked up, we made eye contact
and he invited me into his garden so we could sit and talk.
He started to walk the Camino 3 years ago, after losing his faith.
He made it as far as Rabanal, and immediately felt both at peace and at home here.
He decided to stay and wait for God to find him.
While he waited, he made benches - for others who wait -
and he placed them around town and along the Way.
He asked me to tell him my story -
why was I on the Camino -
so I did.
When I mentioned I was walking slowly enough across Spain
so my soul could catch up with me,
he said I sounded like St Clare.
On her deathbed,
she apparently said she couldn't die yet
because her soul had the pace of an ass
and her soul wasn't all here yet.
I replied that I was in trouble then because I think mine caught up with me this morning!
When he stopped laughing,
I asked if he thought God would find him.
He said "I see glimpses - like today in your story - but He hasn't spoken directly to me yet".
He then asked that I pray for him in Santiago
and remind God where he lives now.
With a kiss and hug goodbye, I promised him I would.
I realized why this building (below) shows up so often in blogs about the Camino.
At this point in the journey, this is exactly how you feel...
battered, weary, patched up, held together with whatever you can find -
but still standing!
The albergue, at the top of the world, is a total hippie enclave -
Amazing post. Thank you.
ReplyDeleteExtraordinary, indeeed.
ReplyDelete