Mountain Breezes

Mountain Breezes

April 27, 2018

Manzriffe to Hospital de Orbigo

I spent this short walk today walking parallel to a range of snow-capped mountains.  They stood majestic, intimidating just in their immense size, and captivating to behold even at 100km (about 50-60 miles away.)  I couldn’t take my eyes off the contrast in the massive, blue-gray shapes and  the stunningly-white, snow-capped peaks and ridgeline.  Awe inspiring!

There were more than the mountains that stole my attention.  It was the steady mountain breeze that swirled along the trail.  They came like little micro-bursts eddying around and before us  raising clay dust that rose like incense. This all got me thinking. There is something about nature’s breezes. Lake and ocean breezes have a distinct quality and fragrance. Mountain breezes, however, are quite different. There’s something of lightness in the air. They are chilly and clean, dare I say, pure. Hopefully you can relate to what I experienced.

The Camino held this beauty and yet another fascinating behavior. These stiff mountain breezes quietly slipped away for short periods only to surprise the next stretch of the journey.  I was fascinated by the sight of these monstrous land features, but more so by the intermittent embraces of these breezes.

God spoke to me in this experience. The sight led me to contemplate how they represent the power of God and the breezes led me to see these as how the Holy Spirit moves, The Spirit is full of all power and His gifts are also a sight to cherished.  I contemplated that His movement is much like the mountain breezes today.  These Spirit Winds, as I choose to identify them, contain the same lightness, purity, and freshness as I imagine the Holy Spirit.

I held these things in my heart as I entered my destination village for the night.  Some pilgrims I’ve been walking with and I stopped at a small café for lunch while waiting for the albergues to open for the day.  We sat on a sunny patio enjoying the view of a medieval bridge that is famed for a jousting tournament that was held there.  Yes, history abounds on the Camino. While seated there, my walking companions decided to exit for a different albergue leaving me with a young man, Werner, who was biking from Leon to Santiago in 8 days, less than half the time by foot.

Now surprisingly all alone, Werner shared his heartache and reason for the Camino.  His eyes reddened and welled over with tears as he shared that his father committed suicide. “I loved me Papa, me daddy. It tore me up for these past two years.”  Then he went on to share the details, the confusion, the lost period he endured. I was riveted to him and his tearful story strained on my heart.  Werner was in his early 30’s, a big man (probably 6’5 and 250 lbs), baby faced, and gentle, dare I say “wounded.” He was a little boy in a big boy’s body who needed a dad at that moment.  And yes, mountain breezes, more accurately, Spirit Winds, still found us on that little café patio. 

Then Werner shared with me a variation of a Camino legend he was following.  It is traditional for pilgrims to carry a “burden stone.”  They carry it from home to represent some burden in their heart that they carry and wish to lay at the foot of Cruz de Ferro, the Iron Cross.  Over the centuries pilgrims have placed their burden stones at this holy shrine. They wait in solemn lines to climb what is a mountain of prayerfully placed burden prayers before the cross.  In a sincere silence and reverence, each pilgrims approaches the cross, many kneel, and pray their heart out. Each leaves their burden stone at the foot of the cross.  Werner shared how he was following his calling to the Camino.  Because he would be biking for only 8 days, he chose to carry 8 burden stones.  “I will cast one burden each day. On my first day from my home in Cape Town, South Africa, I cast my first stone.” He choked on tears, with my company I might add, he added. “I determined to begin my Camino surrendering the heartache of losing me daddy. I didn’t want to carry the memory of how he died, how I missed his love, and how I missed him.  Then he gained composure and added, “So I cast away me first stone, number 8,  in my home town to release myself of my loss of me Papa, yea, me daddy. ”With a robust smile beaming hope he added, “By the time I reach Santiago I will be free.”

A surprising mountain breeze of Spirit gusted before us as he added his wisdom born of suffering. “Willie, I’ve come to see that it is not getting through suffering that’s important. It is celebrating what God has done to bring us through the suffering.” In this he and I  rejoiced in similar thought and experiences.  Werner added, “Each day I will cast another stone to celebrate what God has released in me, that is, in reasons I have to celebrate how He’s carried me through difficulties. Today I cast the stone I call “Excess baggage. I carry around too much weight (he rubs his big frame) and even too much emotional baggage. Today that is the celebration stone I cast.”

Here I sat in the vortex of Spirit winds, overwhelmingly blessed and dumbfounded by His breezes.  Then Werner added this chilling side note. “You know, Willie, I was riding through and looking for a place to have lunch; I was starved. I rode right past this place.  I had a little God moment that told me to ride back to this place. Now I know why. He had this planned for my day.” My “Amen” was squirting through my every fiber.  He stood from his table, towering over me, “Willie, can we pray together?”

It was moment on that patio when heaven kissed the earth.  The Holy Spirit was so alive, grace-filled, and uplifting.  We prayed our hearts out together and begged God’s care along The Way.  Then off went Werner, leaving me in a holy speechlessness.

God’s presence is as majestic as that snow-capped mountain range, and His Holy Spirit moves in pure gift, detected only intermittently for as much as we allow or offer ourselves up to Him. So much of experiencing His movement is limited by our openness. True? Many ask me how to have more of the Holy Spirit in their life.  This can start as simply as praying these words with your whole heart, “Come Holy Spirit. Come into my heart. I invite you to move in me. I need you. And I welcome your grace.”

Do prayers like these feel a little weird or uncomfortable? That’s good! Give His Spirit permission and be ready to ride a Spirit Wind. I did, and it awoke something napping in me.

Fondly, Deacon Willie