Merida to Alcuescar

We had an early 5:30 start and everyone was feeling good. We added a new companero-Arturo the Czech. We were chatting along the way as usual when I got my boot on the last threshold of a cattle guard and took a pretty nasty fall, scraping up my shoulder. They rushed to me, helped me up, washed the wound, and gave me gauze. The cuts were stinging but didn't really bother me much. It wasn't until later that soreness in my hip began to slow me down. 

I caught back up with the group who had stopped to look at something in the road. A sheep had laid out in the sun and was unable to move. I looked it over and pat its head.  I poured out a little water from my bottle and let it lick the salt off my knees. I help it up, but now it was clear that the sheep had been hurt and was probably going to die out here alone. There was nothing to do but bring the lamb to shade and walk on. 

Another novice mistake left me headed down an alternative route which added 5km and an hour to my journey, making the day 27 miles long. I arrived at the albergue exhausted but set my things down and followed the guys to the pool. The refreshing waters helped to clean my shoulder and smooth my blisters. 

We returned to our refuge, The Monastery de esclavos de Maria y Los pobres, for a tour. Founded 39 years ago, the local priest felt called to work with the forgotten poor of the town and began this work in the form of the Casa de Misercorida (house of mercy). The bishop told the priest that he would have to choose, his work at the church or the poor. He chose the poor and this place is one of several in Spain that serves as home for the town poor, the infirm, those struggling with mental health, those abandoned and forgotten-old men living out there days here with the care of the brothers and finally again with the church. The priest said "at least they can die in this house and not in the street."

A service of mass was offered, and we all went, alongside 20 or so residents and a few brothers. Juan had asked me if he was even allowed to come because he had never been to mass in his life and didn't know if lightening would strike. I assured him it wouldn't. He confessed he didn't know what to do or any of the prayers, even the Lord's Prayer, and I assured him I'd also be a bit lost since I don't know all of mass, and certainly not in Spanish. He didn't want to be the only who wasn't singing or taking or kneeling when he was supposed to, so I just stood there by him. As I looked around the chapel, I noticed the lectern was adorned with a silver lamb and I thought back to the stranded sheep from earlier.  After mass, we received a special pilgrim's blessing. I finally learned that "albergue" translates as "shelter."

We made our way to the supper prepared for us and We ate family style - passing bowls of gazpacho, and baskets of fruit. We all found some job to do cleaning up, washing, rinsing, gathering leftovers, tucking in chairs. We went back up to our rooms and began to settle in for the night. Diego showed me all the albergues he recommends as tomorrow is my last day with them before bussing forward from Caceres to Zamora. Back in my room, I organize my things and try to settle me nerves. From my open window, across the courtyard, I hear bells toll and the monks begin to sing.

Castilblanco to Almaden

August 22, 2015

Our hosts at the albergue in Almaden were 2 retired women-Betty, who's from Ireland and Valerie, who's from Scotland, but now lives in Spain. We sat around the kitchen table and told stories and they invited me to attend mass with them that evening. As we walked down to the church, the streets were filling with people, revived after the afternoon heat.

The priest read from the book of Ruth, "where you go, I will go; and where you stay, I will stay. Your people will be my people, and your God will be my God." And the great commandment from Matthew, "live the Lord your God with all you heart, with all your being and with all your mind. This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: you must love your neighbor as you love yourself."

The two are one in the same, they can not be separated. The priest reminded us that the call to love is not just for our nieces and nephews, or spouses or friends, but all others.  It is to love whoever needs to be loved. We love one another not through distant third-party charity, but face to face, by actually coming to know one another. Such great love is impossible for us alone, but is dependent on God.

As we walked back, the town was fully alive at night. People road their beautiful gaited horses, with tassels on their bridles, anxious for the roberia that weekend. The noise of the town echoed up to the albergue, the air was still and hit in our room, so there was precious little sleep and a long day ahead. 

We packed up very early, around 5:30 and walked the first 10 miles along the highway in darkness. Our headlamps revealed the way forward and alerted the few passing cars, but mostly we walked without. The sky was filled with stars and we discussed how to say "Milky Way" in different languages. 

Past the highway, we entered a nature preserve with dry grasses, oaks, and eucalyptus. We saw several and deer and came upon a fox. She quickly skittered across the road, just 5 feet in front of us. We all stopped to marvel at her and watch her scamper across the creek and up up the side of the hill. 

Up in the hills today, the air was cooler and the company made the long 29km lighter. We listened to music from Juan's phone and danced "suavemente." In such moments, the world seems suspended and I can't believe I'm really here, really doing this. The last 2 km were steep and slow, exhausting steps, but we were rewarded with a vista of all that we had traveled today.

After much-needed rest at the albergue, I ventured into town-past the old clock tower decorated with more giant nests of storks who had made their home there. I ambled to fountains and the plaza, and stopped in at a cafe. It was the first time I've had WiFi since Sevilla so I could call my family. 

Tomorrow I had only planned to go the 14km to Real de la Jara but Diego, Gerard, and Juan are going another 20k on to Monesterio. Their companionship has been such a gift, my body feels fine (only a couple tiny blisters), and with the cooler temperatures I can take me time after the sun comes up. After Real de la Jara, we'll be leaving Andalucia and entering the region of Extremadura. 

Guillena to Castilblanco de los Arroyos

A shorter and more scenic walk today. Watching the sun come up through the olive trees and orange groves, with the white-washed city of Guillena below, was spectacular.

We started the day in the dark, so I was glad to have Gerard walk with me. It turns out he's not traveling by bike, has done so on the Via Portuges before. He said  hat when he had done so, he missed the experience of traveling with others, the friendly conversation, and that's why he's walking the Via de la Plata now. However, he and Diego are much faster than I am and soon left me behind.

Most of our 20km was dappled with shade from the olives and oaks, passing through orchards and dry ranchland. My back struggled the most today and ached under the strain of a peak that simply hoards too much. In my excite my of finding a large market yesterday ( and in celebration of tracking down the pocket knife I'd been hoping to buy since Madrid) I bought enough Rioja, food, and snacks for two days. It's all fun and games until you have to carry it up a rocky hillside...for 4 1/2 hours. I began to convince myself of all the things I could live without to shed weight - do I really need this shampoo? Toothpaste? Tomorrow is longer...with less shade...yup, that shampoo is out. And I can think of a few other things that might get sent ahead to a p.o. box in Santiago.

When I arrived at the albergue in Castilblanco de los Arroyos, Diego, Gerard, and a Chilean man (who has been with us since Sevilla) were waiting outside for the hosts who would open the place up in about two hours.

When the doors opened, we were all greet d with a cold glass of water. It reminded me of Jesus' words: " I assure you that whoever gives you a cup of water to drink because you belong to Christ will certainly be rewarded." (Mark 9:41) 

AMEN +

After washing up, I ventured down into the town, enjoyed a cafe out on the breezy patio, but found the markets closed until evening. Yesterday I spent so much emotional and physical energy in pursuit of that which I didn't really even need. I'll return later for just enough for breakfast and a bocadillo, but I won't worry about it now. God provides for the lily and the sparrow and God will take care of me.

Sevilla to Guillena

The host at my hostel had drawn me a map the day before, and I still managed to get lost about 6 blocks into my Camino. This pattern continued as I made my way through the suburban streets of Camas and Santiponce. At the edge of Svilla, I came to a mural and obelisk that marked 1000km to Santiago.  Huge smile. I went up the steps to find a 5-way roundabout. Dumbstruck. I knew I was supposed to cross a cycling bridge and follow the river, but what I apparently did was cross some other bridge and followed a dirt path along the Guadalquiver.

I stood in a field with some random free-range horse, with no discernible path ahead. All I could see was a sketchy underpass littered with mounds of trash. No way was I going down there! This can't possibly be right. Well, it wasn't. 

I finally found what looked like an established hike and bike trail, followed it, and found one of those reassuring yellows arrows that guide us peregrinos. Yes! Here we go! Probably 2 miles later I realized I hadn't seen one of those friendly markers in awhile. I turned on my phone, activated my GPS, and confirmed that I was indeed off track. The route I was on would get me where I needed to go eventually but it just put me on edge. So I figured out a route that would bring me to the trail I wanted to be on.

I recognized the truth it held. If you're on a journey, especially if it's new (and you can't figure out what all the knobs in the bathroom do), and even if you read the guidebook the night before, you're going to get lost. You just are. Your best hope is to have the awareness to realize you're lost, consult the guidebook (+ make sense of it in light of what you see around you), and plan a way forward.

HINT: every way is foreword on the Camino, even if it looks like going back.

For months I wasn't sure how I was going to do this, how my body was going to walk 22km in the 97 degree blazing sun with a 20lb pack. While there are much longer days ahead and the blisters have yet to form, somewhere between my stop for cafe con leche and the rolling fields of cotton, corn, and harvested sunflower...I realized I was doing the thing I don't know I could do.

As I arrived at the albergue in Guillena, I was greeted by the two peregrinos from my room last night (one from Barcelona and traveling by bicycle, the other from Madrid). Diego gave me directions to the supermarket and guess what? I got lost. I guess there are plenty of things I still need to learn to do alongside the help of others.

Madrid to Sevilla

I arrived in Madrid last night. My body was tired but my mind was restlessly reviewing the vast experiences of the day and the limitless unknowns that lie ahead. When traveling abroad, everything takes effort and focus, almost every movement is a mind puzzle - from my clumsy fumbling over a return to Spanish, to finding gates, streets, or the right train, and figuring out where to pick up the Turkish coffe I ordered during my layover in Istanbul.

I met fellow travelers - a research professor who speaks at least 4 languages ( so seemingly common in my experiences abroad), who was in his way to a festival in Nigeria. I met a woman about my age, Stephanie, also from Texas and about to begin her second year of teaching in Madrid. As my head hit the pillow, I was already translating phrases if need the next day.

I am struck by my overwhelming awareness and the incessant need to communicate/capture/commodify the experience. Like many people, I am addicted to social media and so my brain has become trapped into thinking in "status updates," captions, and hashtags. I appreciate and value the work of reflection and articulation as they reveal tremendous meaning in the menial, but most often my intentions are misplaced. Such vanity is one of the shackles I pray to be freed from in this journey. 

So far humility has been easy to come by as I depend on the help and patience of others, and as I caught a whiff of myself after almost 24 hours of travel. And so, as I tossed and turned with my roaming mind, I sought the peace of prayer. I prayed that this journey be a journey toward God. The Holy Spirit completed my petition, "and thus toward others." To journey with God is to journey with others - with strangers, in all our human fragility and sacred simplicity.

As I awoke this morning, I reminded myself of this call to intention. In the rush of re-packing and in my concern for catching trains, I paused. Felt my nostrils flare. My rib age expand with the cool Spanish  air. As I have done at thresholds past, I once again opened my bible to the prayerful pages of Psalms. It's my go-to when I don't know where to start. (Which is pretty much always).

It's been 9 years since I was last in Spain for my Study Abroad. Today I am aware of how foreign and familiar it feels - as I walk in the shadow of the Reina Sofie museum and in the shade of the Parque del Retiro, as I munch my favorite manchego cheese and glance at the rows of silvery olive trees outside this train window. Distance demands I take notice.

Just before I got on my plane in Houston, a friend handed me a small envelope with a word of blessing from John O'Donahue:

"...when you travel, you find yourself

Alone in a different way.

More attentive now

To the self you bring along,

Your more subtle eye watching you abroad;

And how what meets you touches 

that part of the heart

That lies low at home..."

Selah.

Pilgrimage Packing List

In preparation for this pilgrimage I read a lot of suggested packing lists and asked recent pilgrims for their advice on gear. At the same time, people suggest your pack be limited to 10-15% of your body weight. That's everything you need to live...for a month...in a tiny little bag. While I certainly prioritized those fancy dri-fit shirts and double layered wicking wool socks, here are the notable things on my packing list:

- a 36L backpack (given to me by a dear friend as a approval/birthday/end of internship/burn camino gift)

- well worn Teva sandals (a best friend birthday gift from long ago)

- a seashell necklace (from my mother in law)

- a rosary (passed down from a previous pilgrim)

- a hand-me-down bible with sacred scribbles

- a matching friendship bracelet (made by my daughter with her favorite colors and mine)

- euros (from my parents who wish I didn't have to do crazy stuff like this it get another tattoo, but will make sure I have everything I need for the adventure)

- a journal (from previous pilgrimages to continue the journey)

- a small compass (from my husband-a gift of love and encouragement on a day when I was feeling particularly nervous/defeated/selfish)

These are the things I'll carry with me that will make the journey more than a long walk, more than a test of endurance, more than my own.

On a Tuesday

When I decided to start seminary, I had a sense that God was calling me to leadership in the church but I still wasn’t sure what that meant – it excited and terrified me.  In that time of transition, I sought the wilderness of Big Bend National Park and set out for a few days of solo-backpacking through the Chisos Basin and across the South Rim.  The journey became a spiritual one without my intending it to be; with each step I experienced a sense of communion with God that I still struggle to articulate.  Five years later, I find myself at another precipice - standing just beyond graduation and looking toward my first call as Pastor.  I began to look for regular work to support my family during this interim time, but doorways of opportunity kept closing in front of me.   In the back of my mind I was trying to generate ideas to use this gap in a meaningful way – to see it as an opportunity instead of a source of anxiety.  I hit one last closing door.  You know, some people have a bad Tuesday and go out for a glass (or three) of wine… I bought a plane ticket to Spain.

For years I’ve dreamt of reuniting with the country where I studied abroad (almost 10 years ago now), where I was humbled in every way, and where I gained a love for transformative travel.  But I’m not going back for vacation exactly, I’ve decided to take on the sacred practice of pilgrimage.  I’ll be walking the Camino de Santiago de Compostela across Spain – 27 days, 434 miles, solo.  While not as remote as the wilderness of those desert mountains in Texas, the process of pilgrimage carves out similar space in the soul for the divine.  My prayer is that this time is one of abiding in God as I continue to discern my call in ministry. It’s a sort of spiritual “clearing the airwaves” so that I might be better attuned to God’s continued presence and guidance in the days to come.  I am excited and terrified. I ask for your prayers in this journey as I will pray for you with each step.

Here are the details:

- I leave mid-August, return mid-September.

- Following the Via de la Plata – from Sevilla to Santiago (1000km).

- Adjusting for time, I’ll bus through 300km in the middle.

- Total – 27 days on the trail, 698.6km (434 mi), roughly the distance from Houston to Oklahoma City