The journey continues

Hey there!  It has been quite a while since I wrote about the final steps of our journey.  Gill and I swore that once we finished walking that would be it.  With heavy feet and tired legs we rejoiced and cried when we reached the cathedral.  Everyone told us that we would be back, to which we smiled knowingly and looked at one another with sarcastic eyes that basically said, "yeah right!".  We are not those people.  We took off our boots and cleaned up our blisters and vowed to never wear them again.  We packed up our slightly stiff clothing, worn in the pattern of our backpacks and thanked God that our days of hand washing every evening were over. Then about a month ago,  I got a text message from Gill asking me if it was crazy that she wanted to be back on the camino.  The thing is, that I had been thinking the same thing.  We both laughed at the insanity of it.  But the truth is that there is a dream like quality that shrouds our experience.  Sure, it was difficult, but each day we had a definite goal.  Each day we knew our plan.  We had this sense of adventure and unknown as we headed out.  There was structure, routine and the need to rely on others.  The inspiration that comes from that type of duality, from the journey of simplicity and wandering, is staggering.  

I gave a presentation about the camino to my home congregation.  I told them how when you walk everyday it becomes easier to truly have a constant conversation with God.  Your mind wanders and you can tell what has been bothering you based on what your mind continues to circle around.  As your mind dips and dives around past regrets and wishes it becomes crucial to talk to God.  Blessedly the act of walking also comes with a very physical reminder of letting things go and walking away.  Instead of collecting things as you travel, as happens on most vacations, you find yourself deciding that the extra shirt you bought isn't worth carrying.  Also, all along the path people leave prayers in the form of piles of rocks.  I picked up the tradition.  As I walked the last 100km, I would pick up a small stone and carry it to the next marker.  As I held it and worried it in my hand I spoke one prayer again and again.  Each time I set the stone down and picked up another I moved on to a different prayer.  I found peace about friends I have left behind.  I walked away from decisions I have questioned and I let go of worries that I cannot control.  At the end of the day my hands where covered with the dust from so many prayers, stained and brown from the path.  I know that I have not forgotten any of those prayers.  I still pray for my friends.  I still prayer for my sister's pregnancy and for my family.  But there is such a peace  from the tangible evidence of my conversation with God that now, as I sit in a coffee shop an ocean away from the camino I still yearn for that type of tangible prayer.  I know now why pilgrimage featured so strongly in the early church.  I look forward to the day when I can return and until then I will continue to work on making my prayer run through me with every breath.