I’ve been on the move for almost two weeks. I’ve slept in bunk beds and nice hotels. Every morning I’m excited to start the next segment of the journey. I love seeing the yellow arrows pointing me onwards. The Camino has welcomed me back into its embrace.
What about the inner journey? What am I learning along the Way?
I’m a world class worrier. I’ve known that for a long time. But with hours along the Camino I can see more clearly how I seem to have a need to worry about something, no matter how insignificant. What if my pack isn’t delivered or gets lost? What if there’s no where to stay? (Somewhat irrelevant in October.)
I have a talent for seeing the glass as half-empty.
The Camino gently leads me towards the half-full view. Today I came into Samos drenched and coughing, and fell into a tiny coffee bar. The owner greeted me and guided me to a seat. She served me Caldo Gallego, which was made for this drizzly weather: garbonzo beans, peppers, and beef bones. After I finished I asked her how she made it, and she spent some time in the kitchen teaching me how to cook it.
Last night, after walking up, up, up the mountain in the driving rain, I attended Mass in a 9th Century church with people from all over the world and we stood in a circle around the altar as the priest presided in Spanish and English.
Just when I feel depleted, the Camino provides, and fills me with hope.
I’m still praying for clarity on where God is calling me when I return to the Bay Area. Maybe I’m being taught to trust.
For now, I’m heading out each day on the Camino, putting one foot in front of the other. Half an hour on the trail I find myself encountering joy.