Grace Outside the Doors

I've had an interesting experiences since I arrived in Paris. I am quite convinced that God is preparing me for re-entry into the world of busy-ness, demands, hurry up, fast-food, quick-pace, miss the beauty, on the surface conversations, lack of community (especially in the church) and more that makes us more human doings almost robot like rather than human beings filled with joy and wonder--the way I believe we were created to be--aware not only of one's self but others and creation. 

I shared a hostel room with three college girls from the states that we're spending their summer in Europe. And two other internationals--one an Asian male (I apologize for not knowing more than that but he came in after the light was turned out past midnight when the girls finally left and turned it back on and left before anyone else was up this morning) and a woman from Argentina who had just arrived in Paris that morning, walked all day and just wanted to go to sleep. The girls from the states partied in the late afternoon. 

Took a long nap and then were up again at 10 to get ready to out for the night. That's great. But they did so loudly in the room, drinking wine, aware that others were tired. I joined in their conversation as did the woman from Argentina. Finally around midnight they were ready and headed out the door and asked if I wanted the light out, "yes please!" Ten minutes later it was back on. Fortunately for me the train had provided an eye mask, ear plugs and a blanket. I didn't need the blanket because though it said on the door of you open the window the a/c will shut off please don't open the window these girls had opened the window. (It also said no food and alcohol in the rooms) I wasn't the food, alcohol, a/c police, nor was I their mother. But I could put on my eye mask, put in my ear plugs, I had taken my sleeping pill. And I could be as I quiet in the morning. Well that's not totally true. That's impossible with some things wrapped in plastic bags but I could be as quiet as possible. Because if I were noisy then their day would simply be worse. But perhaps they will someday remember a simple kindness. Maybe not but I felt better. 

Then I started out for my day. I had breakfast at the hostel. Made my lunch. Went back to the room and bandaged the finger. And then headed out, map in hand, and feeling challenged by the day ahead. I debated about whether or not getting tickets to the Louvre (it had originally been on my agenda along with going up in the Eiffel Tower) but I saw the yellow arrows and just started following them. I followed them all the way to a church. And then they seemed to stop. But the it was me so I am going to do some more research. So I stopped at a sidewalk cafe and had a cafe au lait. And re-grouped about my day! Right. I'll head to Notre Dame for the 11:30 international service. I paid for my very expensive coffee. And headed out. Awesome. Classic Paris. 

Then I got to the Cathedral. 

And there was this huge line. A woman finally told me this was the line for going up to the tower. The line to go into worship was in front and was much shorter. Great. So I walked to the front. And started to make my way to the back of the line. I walked, and walked, and walked. All of the sudden I realized this line was 10 times as long as at least. I stopped trying to get to the end. I walked back to the front full of relief. But sadness too. Not because I couldn't get into worship but because there were people walking up cutting in line having no awareness for the people standing in the back of the line (it reminds me of those of us who have plenty and either are unaware or don't care about those who have less). 

The relief came with joy as I went and sat near the entrance on the ground as one who isn't allowed in or even no longer feels a place in the organized religion.  I sat and just watched. I said a prayer. I prayed for those who worship and those who gawk--I asked that they find peace. For those who wait and those who are unaware of others--give them patience and awareness. For those who appreciate nature with their friends and children--may they experience your joy. For those who wander and walk---may they find hope. For those who lose their way or feel lost--give them light. For those who visit museums and sit at cafes---may they see beauty and find community. And there was more. 

And then I kept walking and praying...and then I found the American Church in Paris. And ducked in 20 minutes late. They sent me into the balcony. No problem. They were still in their opening praise song time. I looked at my watch again. Wow!! And then the announcements started. They went on for 10 minutes. After 15 I felt that was my cue...and I left. I will stick to my assessment that I knew that community is found outside the church and the divine is at work...

My prayers continue today as I walk around Paris and enjoy conversations and quiet time, picnics in the park and people watching and nature and art. I'm finding peace in letting go of past hurts, in letting go of things I can't control, in telling people how I'm feeling, in dealing with which I do have control, and in walking and praying through things. 

But there was grace outside of the doors for me today like I think there is for so many people not only back home but in so many places. Churches aren't always the places of welcome and community they claim to be. I have to consider this some more. But I know that I find community in my running groups. I find community in my cycling group. I find community in many places that people no longer find it in the church. And I think there is something that the church can learn from this. I knew that community is available outside the church and that the divine is at work in these places as well... but the Camino made me more aware of it. And it is quite beautiful and I am grateful. 

Finding grace in difficult days

Yesterday was my last walking day. It was a difficult day. I wanted to walk alone but the night before the hospitalero had pointed out that a man who was very quiet at the table was also going to Santiago, as if to say, you have a walking buddy. What was even funnier was there was only one other person sharing my room and I had assumed it was a woman but lo and behold when bedtime rolled around it was the quiet man. 

The quiet man spoke a little English. More English than I speak Spanish. Though I have improved by default. We figured out when the lights were going out. When he was getting up. Whether the windows were going to be opened or closed. And whether the door was going to be opened or closed. Whew!! Sleep come on!! Like sweetness!! I had walked 30 miles and taken a hard fall! I was exhausted and now trying to communicate in a language I wasn't fluent, barely capable of the basics. I can only imagine how he felt. 

I forgot to set my alarm and overslept. I heard rattling in the other room, people fixing their self-serve breakfast? And my roommate started moving so I put on my glasses and it was 6:30. Oh no. I had meant to be on road by now. Oh well, I guess I needed the sleep and besides I only had 13 miles to walk. And my albergue was on the Santiago side of Negeira. Relax, it will be fine, I told myself. 

I packed my bags. Went to the bathroom. Ate breakfast. Brushed my teeth. And started out the door wishing those left eating breakfast at the albergue a "buen camino". 

It was was a beautiful morning. And I had a song in my heart and on my lips. 

O Lord, with your eyes you have searched me,

And while smiling have called out my name;

My boat's left on the shoreline behind me

Now with you I will seek other seas...

I remember some of the verses but the chorus just kept coming back to me. I sang it quietly, I sang it out loud, I whistled it, I hummed it. I was listening deeply this last day of walking. 

As I got to the top of a hill there were two different and conflicting sets of arrows. One pointed straight which is what I thought but the other pointed left. But the shell marking was left. Dang it here we go again.  So I took the left just a ways just to make sure. I went about a block and figured it was wrong. So I turned around. I saw a guy working and said, "Santiago?" And pointed the way I thought I ought to be going. He just slowly smiled a devilish smile and finally shook his head and said, "si!"  Ugh! I thought. This last day of the Camino IS going to be my most difficult day. Of course it is. So I turned around. And as I reached the corner there was the quiet man. I shrugged my shoulders as if to say, "oops I took the wrong road!" He smiled and followed me on the right one. 

We walked along me in front the quiet man behind. I would stop at a fork in the road get my bearings and then see the correct marking look back at him as if for confirmation and a simple nod from him and on we would go. At one point though we both stopped. It was not obvious. We went up on the road. Down another path. Back and forth. Looked for pilgrim footprints going to Finisterra. And then took a chance. We walked along and introduced ourselves. Me asking in Spanish, "what is you name?" Jose. I am Debora. And we walked together. Often me walking ahead. We stopped several times at coffee bars for water and just to rest. We even stopped for what the Hobbits would call a second breakfast. And then we walked. Sometimes Jose  pointing out that I needed to come back to the way. Occasionally he would do this and I was on the right way and he was mistaken. 

This is how it is in life. We help each other. Strangers become friends. Community is formed as a common purpose is realized. And language is worked through because of that common purpose and community and food are shared. 

As we got to the top of the hill before Santiago we saw this view:

Jose asked for a photo of himself with Santiago.  He had asked for several pictures of himself. I had hoped that there had been others to take pictures of him along the way. Always when he asked for me to take a picture he would ask me, "Debora, do you prefer I take a photo of you with your camera with this scenery?" It was very nice. 

I had reached the hill with the view of Santiago  before he did. And my feet were tired. I was hot. And I was ready to get a shower and rest. I had come so close and could not stop now. Jose declared, "I'm tired!" I think that meant I'm going to rest a bit.

I said, "I must keep going." I showed him we had more than the 1 kilometro he thought to go and wished him a buen Camino. Thanked him. Hugged him. And headed out. 

As I reached the park in Santiago that I recognized tears just poured from my eyes. I had no control. I can't really express the joy, exhaustion, humility, beauty, gratitude, love for so many, community, the memories, and so many other things that I don't have words for. 

I cried all the way to the cathedral. Just stood there for a bit and listened to the bagpipes and other pilgrims; the many languages and watched people. The whole walk in from the park is a climb up and I noticed a lot of people staring at me. But I just smiled through my tears and said hello/hola interchangeably I was so happy, so overwhelmed. 

And then I made my video and headed to the albergue. 

The last three days of walking truly were the most difficult. I am thankful for that. It is in the difficult days of the Camino that I am reminded of what so many people deal with in life. And so much of what I will be faced with when I return home. The peace of life on the Camino will be interrupted by the distractions and temptations of normal life. Just like it was when the signs were not clear and I wandered  a bit seeing more than some pilgrims and perhaps logging more miles and learning lessons. It will be easy to miss the signs and get off of the path if one is not careful. It is easy to lose a sense of community if you choose not to listen and hear or work on language and have a common purpose and goal or just shut yourself off. 

Of course there is more but that is probably enough for now of how I found grace in few difficult days. 

Relaxing Into Grace

In a classic move of being me, the old me who likes to be early, not the me so many of you have gotten to know, and refer to as running on Debbie time, the old Debbie and well perhaps the reconstructed Debbie--who got so much done yesterday and left little to this morning morning so she would be at the train station in plenty of time. When I looked at my ticket not once but several times and even told people about it I told them I left at 4:30 (16:30). 

I had a little trouble going to sleep last night. But that's okay. It was my last day walking and my last night in Santiago. And I might as well start adjusting to the time change. ;) I slept until maybe 7:30 which probably wasn't  long enough but I'm still on a pilgrim schedule. I got everything situated. I felt a little bad because there were two younger women that probably hadn't come in until 4:30 or 5 am maybe and I was starting to rattle bags and pack. But hey it's the Camino. 

I made my meals for the day and the next day since I would be on the train through the afternoon, over night and all the next day "a pilgrim's life is hard!"  And got everything packed. I ate an apple for breakfast and went out for a coffee storing my backpack at the albergue. 

While having my coffee I bandaged my finger. A man was standing at the bar and looked over asking if he could share my table. I said sure. His name was Joe. He was from Vermont. His story brought tears to my eyes. I will try to tell you at some point but it's his story not mine. Enough to say it was a moment of grace. We shared and swapped Camino stories. And then parted. 

I walked around Santiago and then asked at the tourist office to make sure I knew where the train station was. Then went back to the albergue to have lunch and pick up my backpack. I was told it would take 30 minutes to get to the train station. Or I could get a cab for €5. I can walk I thought. I've walked over 700 miles now what's a couple more? No problem. This is what I look like with a few more items that I've picked up. Hahahaha!

Yes I have a pack on back and o e in front. 

Well it didn't take 30 minutes. I past a sign for McDonald's the first I've seen since I've been here. 

And one for Burger King...the second I've seen since I've been here. 

And then saw a little Mexican restaurant. That's right Mexican not Spanish. Well hmmm...McDonald's, Burger King and then a Mexican restaurant. Maybe this was helping me transition. Okay. I had burned 8800 calories in the past 2 days and really hadn't been eating too much. Why not a snack of nachos. ;)

Okay here comes the point of my story...I sat down at this cute little Mexican cafe and get my train tickets out to look them over again. It's about 1:30. I have plenty of time to relax and find my train and deal with any complications. I pull out my train tickets and instead of leaving at 16:30 my train doesn't leave until 18:35. Yes. Plenty of time. 

This is me...relaxing into grace...learning that lesson of tranquilla--and you know what I think I'm getting it down. Peace. Joy. Buen Camino!! Ahhhhh. 

Not getting lost but found by grace

So, the morning of July 7, in my morning prayers I asked God for signs, to show me the way, knowing that the WAY/ the Camino would not be as clear on the way back. 

And I was right. The arrows were not nearly as present. The all so familiar shell was not nearly as visible. Sometimes if you glanced back you might see a pointer for the way to Muxia but no clear indication for going back to Santiago. 

I had hopes though that my prayer would be heard. So far on this journey the signs had been clear--at times I was led by eagles, doves, storks, and other birds. I had high hopes that my prayer would be answered and that my pilgrim's feet would not get too lost maybe a little off the beaten path but not lost. 

As it so happened I found myself asking villagers who were out, "Santiago?" And pointing in the direction I was going. "Si, Santiago!" They would reply and point in the same direction. And shortly afterwards I would see a shell or an arrow. 

It was truly amazing. Incredible. Outstanding. Unbelievable. And yet it was happening. All the way along, throughout the day. 

Then I kind of stumbled down this one hill and out of one village and wasn't sure where I was to go next. I ended up on the main road which is always a little disconcerting especially when there is no shoulder and no arrow or shell. I looked to the right, nothing. I looked left, oh and arrow and a shell. Must be okay. And I walked on. I looked over my shoulder again and saw a large, white dog that resembled a St Bernard stretched out on a driveway asleep. I walked on. Pilgrims are always happy when dogs sleep. I looked at my map because in front of me there were two routes. The map was no help. I read and re-read. Nothing. I sighed standing there in the road. And then I felt something wetter than the rain on my right hand. And a slight nudge. I thought I was going to jump off the road as this dog almost my size if standing upright was next to me. It nudged me again as if to say go...go on straight...you're on the right path. I started walking again it barked and followed a bit to make sure I kept going--I looked back and said thank you in Spanish.  Sure enough there were the signs and the explanations in the book became clear. I stopped in to a cafe for coffee but more to get out of the rain and use the bathroom. But I wasn't sure it was open and started to walk on, however a man across the street as well as the woman inside made sure I knew it was open. 

And then I stumbled along again. I would wander along through a couple of towns asking people who were out if I was going in the right direction, "Santiago?" And point. And they would say, "si" and point too. It worked well. And then I walked into a town. I felt fairly sure of where I was going and then stopped. I turned around. Then started again. Then stopped. Then started. Stopped. Turned. Then I heard a "psst". A man had opened his door. He started to talk. I asked my question. He started pointing me in the way of Muxia. "No, no" then he asked if I wanted coffee. I told him a bano would be nice. He invited me in but fixed me coffee and offered me no bathroom. He also was going to fix me a full breakfast. He also tried to convince me the camino went to Muxia. 

I kept trying to tell him I was going to Santiago. Finally a friend of his showed up. They both tried to tell me the camino went to Muxia. Finally they understood I had been to Finsterra and Muxia. AND I was walking back to Santiago. 

They both said "oh ayeyahyah". "Mas kilometros. tres Dias...mas fuerte! So the friend took me out to the road and showed me where the road to Santiago was. Take this to where the maison blanche (White House) and turn right he said patting his right arm. All in Spanish. And me understanding perfectly. But just in case. God sent this beautiful hound dog, gray and black with long ears and blood shot eyes.  The dog pooped first I'm thinking just to let me know it was real and not some figment and then it started leading me looking back every now and then to make sure I was following. And then it stopped by the White House as if to say "hey you turn here, right, just like the man said!" Because when I tried to follow the dog it sat down. So I turned back and went by the White House and sure enough  there was a marker with a shell on it. And I turned to see if the hound dog would come with me but it was already down the road. Gone. 

This is how my day progressed. I was guided by signs not all of a clear marking but ones I had to be open to, ones I had to ask for, ones that I had to receive. I finally made it to the albergue where I had stayed before and there also was a sign of grace. The family that runs it remembered me, welcomed me, hugged me, was delighted to hear if be back in two years with my daughter. It was truly amazing. And I pray that I can keep listening deeply, watching closely for the signs of grace not only in my life but also help others to see it in theirs. 

And that was how grace found me today. 

Sunday, July 5, 2015 photos

Today was a rest day, worship day, a day of catching up and enjoying! It started quietly with coffee and conversation with a friend and meeting new friends. 

Then I went to mass at the church Santuario de Nosa señora de Barca

Then a little rest, lunch and time at the beach...

Then dinner with a friends one of whom who was heading home and then it was time to go watch the sunset again. 

"'In the end' you just watch it disappear into the sea..."

...with awe and wonder and joy!"

And say thank you!

Saturday, July 4, 2015 Muxia

I had breakfast with Maxi and we said goodbye. I got my laundry and finally packed up and set out a little after 10. Very late start but it was time to go. 

I had to wait until later to call my mom to wish her a happy birthday but thought of her all day long. 

And time to say goodbye to Finisterra 

I wound my way through the little villages. And up the mountainside

Along quiet roads...

And again walked in alone and in silence most of the day. It was quite nice. Listening. 

Being still and in the presence of all that was around me...

I finally made it to a clearing and could see the  view of the ocean. It was spectacular!

I nearly stepped on a snake and so went hopping, jumpy and running across the rest of the grass and dunes and ran into Skye, a Lithuanian woman she remarked later that I had come out of nowhere and she thought I was just happy to see the ocean. She named me "jumpy Debbie". 

She walked with me the 2kms from the beach into Muxia and to the tourist office and showed me the albergue as well. 

These are all three of the certificates that I have received. 

Finally got to call my mom and wish her a happy birthday!! She was glad to hear from me. ;)

Then I ran into Eyleen who I had walked with earlier and we ate and then walked to the church to watch the sunset. 

Another beautiful day!

Friday, July 3, 2015

First things first...caffe con leche please!!! I will miss these!!!

After that I moved from the municipal  albergue to a new place. And then it was off to explore. 

 

I stopped by this little chapel on my way up to see the lighthouse at Finisterra

I loved this statue. 

And in the front there was someone restoring the frescoes. 

Kind of just looks like he's lighting them on fire!! 

Then it was on up to the top. 

Up

On the very edge of the road and side of the cliff!!

I had to be careful that I was tripping into grace and not tripping off the mountainside. 

But the view was extraordinary!!

And I finally made it to the top!!

The international peace pole. 

And of course the 0.0 km sign !!!

I sat for awhile up at the top. Ate a nectarine and then started down. 

I stopped at a picnic table and enjoyed an impromptu music jam session and the rest of my lunch. And then kept moving. 

There wasn't a lot of room on the path for two way traffic. 

And after a 7.5 km round trip. I was back in town. 

Maxi and I had dinner while it rained 

And then I snapped a few pictures before heading back to my room to pack for the morning's walk to Muxia. 

Another beautiful day on the camino.