26 May 2013

SANTIAGO!

Ad Majorem Dei Gloriam

Buen Camino

Praise God. We've made it.

We left our last albergue so excited to do the last 22.7km to Santiago. We walked like our hair was on fire. No coffee break, no lunch, just a dead sprint walk. The first hard climb was manageable. The second, tougher. Then we hit Monto Gozo which looked like an olympic ski slope from a distance. I made it to the top, but I was exhausted.

From there it was to be 4km to Santiago. This was grueling. I was completely spent physically. After those 30kms yesterday and these three climbs, the needle was on "E." I walked and walked through town dragging myself to any view of the cathedral. Nothing in sight for inspiration. It got to a point that my arms were so tired that I couldn't lift my trekking poles to accompany my walk. I let the poles drag on the sidewalk behind me. I could have played the last scene in the Rocky movie. Each step was three forward, one to the side. The pack dragged on me, and my back pained me between the shoulder blades. I could have tripped over my gasping tongue.

Then the cathedral loomed in front of me. It was a walk through the old part of town and then finally arrived at the side door of the cathedral. What an awefull sight. I nearly shouted, "Yo, Jesus, we did it!"

I raced into church with minutes left to catch the end of the pilgrims mass in high hopesto see the thuriber being swung. I arrived at 1:00ish, right at the end of mass. It was not to be. Sadly I learned later from other pilgrims that it was swung at the 10:00 mass. Missed it. It will be a challenge to find if it will be used again while I'm here.

I did get to attend the next mass and sat in the cathedral overwhelmed by the cathedral's awefull beauty, all the memories of the camino, the people whose life touched me, and the abundant number of God moments along "The Way." By God's grace, I arrived.

I began to think about how the camino started. I vividly recall when we walked the Pyrenees Mts during that gale-force wind storm. I remembered that I "offered it up" for Macey and Liv, darling little girls, one of which needs a liver transplant. I often still pray for them. God be merciful.

Now it is 34 days and just over 500 miles later. My story will end in much of the same nature as it began. I never had it as a sole purpose for whom to "offer it up." I truthfully embraced the camino wholeheartedly as a calling from God. That's all.

However, about 2 weeks ago, the inspiration came to me for how I'd like to end the camino. The idea has been fermenting in prayer since. Here's how the pilgrimage closed for me at the Camino Pilgrim's Office just hours ago.

At the office, there is a bit of an inquiry regarding your pilgrimage from the officials. You are asked questions about the camino. Where you started, did you walk the whole way, was it for religious reasons or other reasons. Then they study your Camino Pilgrim's Credentials, the long, accordion-like document that must be stamped at each albergue where you stayed along the way. Each town has its unique, artistic design. No one could counterfeit their credential. An authentic credential merits the pilgrim an official "Compostela." A document written in Latin and recorded for all time.

I requested of the Pilgrim official to complete my Compostela as follows:

Scribed across the top of my Compostela are the words:

Ad Majorem Dei Gloriam
For the Greater Glory of God

The body of the document is written in Latin with a legal explanation of the Camino and inserted within it they scribed my name in Latin.

At the closing, she respectfully agreed to my directions to scribe these words:

Dedicated to Tony Williams

A beautiful, awefull Compostela

Every step I offered for God's glory and dedicated the experience in appreciation of God's gift of having the love of our son for 28 years.

Once again, I never had the notion of doing the camino as a mirror image of the events in the movie, The Way. But once the idea imprinted upon me, it was the bonfire motivation in my heart.

A closing reflection:

My favorite movie in the whole world is "It's a Wonderful Life." It's been replayed on TV at Christmas time for years and so many sermons done on it.

Because I've watched it every, and I mean, every Christmas Eve for nearly 50 years, I know it in detail. One scene is dynamic in my memory. Try to recall it yourself. In this sequence of the movie, George Bailey finally saved enough money to travel; it was his life ambition, always denied by others' needs and his self-sacrifice. In particular of this movie episode, there is a run on the bank just as he is leaving town for his honeymoon and long overdue travel. He learns that all of the money for the Savings and Loan is committed. He's frozen wirth indecision on what to do. Know the scene? Here's one detail you might have missed.

In that scene of the movie, as he wrestles with what to do, there is a portrait of his dad, George's life hero, directly behind him. Under the father's portrait are these words, "The only thing a man keeps is that which he gives away."

The memory of that scene, a father's legacy, passed on to his son for a greater purpose, ignited the passion in me to give the entire camino experience as a dedication to our son for God's greater purpose.

Carinos, I hold the camino riches with "gentle hands."

I give it all. All of gift and challenge, joys and hardships, as a gift of this father's love for his son, all for God's greater purpose.

Ad Majorem Dei Gloriam

Carinosamente,

Deacon Willie

25 May 2013

Santa Irene
22.7km from Santiago

Awefull hope

Buen Camino

We did a 30km walk today. Ugh. We had the choice of a shorter walk and missing Santiago on Sunday all together or stretching it here where the next albergue was located. It leaves us with a simpler walk tomorrow. Amen.

The walk was through what looked like the northwoods of Wisconsin, except this was through eucalyptus trees and pin oaks. Lots of wonderful shade and lots of cool breezes on this spring day with deep, deep blue skies, lots of sun, temps in mid 60's, and lovely clouds to keep the sky interesting.

The walk was exciting because it was the last hard day of the camino before we arrive at Santiago. For interest, the walk included 5 very difficult climbs-some steep and some very long and steady over several km. Prayed my way up most of them.

God placed an intrigue in my head involving a creative word. Y'all mighty recall when you might have heard a teen using a cool, new word. He/she repeats it and uses it in every opportunity. I recall when the word, "sweet" became THE word. Every sentence included some connection to 'sweet' meaning really cool, great.

Not sure how I might create an obsession with this word I contemplated today, but it was my inspiration. It's with the word: "AWEFULL."

Let me try to explain. If something was full of beauty, we'd call it 'beautiful.' If someone was great help, we'd call them 'helpful.' Get the drift?

Like I mentioned, a word intrigued me. It started with the word, 'awesome.' That would mean there is 'some' awe. Technically the word would mean only some awe is included. What we refer to as astonishment, or so great and fantastic in quality includes the word 'some.'

Why is it only 'some' awe? I began to play with the idea of great things being full of awe, or AWEFULL.

In our faith life, hope is an 'awefull' gift. As I considered this thought, what came to mind are all too many to whom I minister who are hope starved. Life is another day like in the movie, "Groundhog's Day." (Love this movie for it's message.)

There are many strong reasons that Christians should value the awefull gift of hope.

First and foremost, we have a Savior who saved us from our rightful punishment for sin. I imagined Jesus saying, "I'll take his lashes." I imagined being caught before the judge with my ugly sins and Jesus saying, "I'll take his nails. Let him/her go." Other faiths don't have the person of worship rescuing the guilty. Dishonor Allah, Buddha, the Jews' Abraham, Shintoism, name them, and you are lost. None have a saving deity. None. These poor souls who live in a New Age culture, worship only what God they make of them self. So sad.

Only Jesus saves. Awefull hope.

We also have hope because of the promises made and kept that are embedded in our scriptures. Recall all of the promises Jesus made and will keep. John 16, "The father is in me and I am in the father as they are in me." Jesus promises we are to be that intimate with our maker, to be "one" with them.

To be intimately included with our maker and His son is Awefull hope.

We have history of faith. So many believers before us have lived rich lives due to the gift of their faith. We, too, have history within our story of how God saved us from ourself, how He loves and comforts us. We have experiences within us that can only be explained as God moments. Why? Because He is alive in us, around us, and before us. At the end of Matthew's gospel Jesus says, "I will be with you always, even unto the end of time."

He's sitting/ standing right next to you/me this very moment.
Awefull hope.

We have Jesus who came to earth to be like us in all things but sin. Philippians 2 states, " Although he was of the nature of man, he took the form of a slave." Jesus lived the life of a human. He experienced all that we experience, all of it: hunger, sleep needs, human functioning, hard labor, friendship. grief, joy, laughter, muscle pain, sickness- all that humans experience- except sin. My point, one whom we honor understands intimately our human condition.

Jesus was man and God with understanding of our struggles-not a far away spirit without compassion. We can tell Jesus everything, and He 'gets it.'

Awefull hope

I realize that I'm suggesting something unusual in conversation, but my thinking today was captivating. So many experiences we call "Awesome" are really "Awefull."

Among them are all the awefull reasons for hope in life.

You're all Awefull family and friends. I'm so humbled.

Upcoming:
Santiago! We break the 500 mile mark by mid morning.

Carinosamente,

Deacon Willie

24 May 2013

Melinde, 50km from Santiago

With gentle hands

Another stunning spring day walk. It is about 66 degrees, sunny, and so pleasant. We took to the camino like speed walkers today. The terrain was fairly level with only two breath-stealers. I can't express how enjoyable it is to walk through these forests on the semi level, hard-packed mud trails. No fears of slipping on loose rock or loosing your footing and twisting an ankle or worse.

I included some pictures that include a sample of what we walked through. This is the last province before Santiago, called La Coruna. Being this close causes each footstep to spring with anticipation. Everyone is eager with enthusiasm as a kid on Christmas Eve for what is so very near. I admit I feel it too.

We should arrive in Santiago on Sunday at this pace. The question is whether we make it to the pilgrims mass in time for the famous swinging of the thuriber from the cathedral rafters.

For those who have seen the movie, The Way, and are familiar with this Catholic ritual in liturgy at a church but in smaller scale, it would be an understatement to call the thuriber, a large incensor, at Santiago anything but impressive. I'm guessing it measures about 4ft in diameter, the incense is shoveled upon hot coals, and about 4-5 men yank it to the rafters using heavy rope in such a way that it swings, gains momentum, and then swings overhead about 50ft in the air from one end of the cathedral to the other, a distance of 'about' 100 ft.. This swinging allows the burning incense to fill the church as it swings like a trapese artist from one end of the cathedral to other.

If we make it to the cathedral by noon, I'll get to see it in action that day. If not, I will definitely see it the following Sunday. It's all in God's good timing.

God gave me a wonderful reflection today centered on generous people. My prayer time was captivated by powerfully spiritual people whose vibrant characteristic is their generosity.

It was a proud recollection to recall the most generous person I've ever known, Mickey Williams, my ma. Those who were blessed to ever know her would testify to her humble, love-of-life, and generous-beyond-belief nature. She ran a carpet store for some 25 years. I'd seen her books, she made so very little income from the store, but as she said, " I love being with the people." It's no wonder. By the time her health was so deteriorated, and we had to close the store, it turned out that she was giving the stuff away. On all too many occasions I would hear her during a sale tell a young mom and dad who desperately needed carpet, "I know what it's like, honey. We had to scratch every penny to raise our kids. When you get your paycheck at the first of the month, think of me and give me $10 or so. You pay me when you can. I know how it is, Hon." Of course, interest free and not recorded.

So many rarely kept up. But she was ok with that. She'd say, "Anyway, I'm helping God's people with the carpet." Her cherished St. Barbara's Church received multiple donations of carpet over the years. "I could never take money from the church, she insisted. " That's like stealing from God!"

So many jaw-dropping, charitable, and generous people have their fingerprints on my life. So many I have witnessed give so sacrificially to others with great pleasure. Yes, they have light and cheerful hearts about sharing what God has put in their life. And they do so with sterling humility. I have been included in some intimate discussions where one of these generous souls have asked me to be the intermediary in passing on a $100 or so as a gift to someone who is financially drained.

Through the privilege of my ministry, I am invited into what is called the "thin" places of their life. The country song comes to mind, "Oh Lord, I Need a Miracle." You might recall a time when you've had your back against the wall, and all that's there is a desperate prayer. God only knows. In some privileged moments in ministry, God has used me to transfer a blessing from a generous soul to someone "who really needs help." They'd say, " I know you know someone, use this $ to help them. But don't use my name."

That's another precious quality of generous people, in addition to being so joyful, they glow with humility. Who they help is not important. How the resource will be used is no concern. There is no reservation or condition to their giving. They give because it's not theirs to begin with. It's God's gift temporarily in their stewardship. They are free of the burden of possession. Free of the need to justify a gift. They have an enviable quality of owning nothing, but owning everything: Their Father's Love.

St. Theresa, I believe, said, "I hold the gifts God provides with 'gentle hands,' because if He should decide to remove them, it hurts so to pry them from my fingers." Not sure if I quoted it exactly, but it's close.

I held that image today in my reflection. How it is with the countless numbers of generous people who've graced my life, who hold their possessions with 'gentle hands.' Some of whom have given support for this pilgrimage. It is these dear friends who triggered so much prayer time for me today in gratitude.

There is a prayer posture that accompanies this kind of surrender of one's gifts in their life. I have a stretch of the memory, but I believe it is called Mary's "absolum." I wish I could study it further to confirm the spelling, but the prayer posture depicted by artists is dead on.

It is said that when Mary was visited by the angel to receive the news that she was to be the mother of our Lord, she fell to her knees, gently raised her head to heaven, held her palms out just in front of her, to give her self to God's call. She was giving her whole self to God. I hope you might be able to picture this. It is a beautiful imagery for me of complete surrender.

That same image is what I suggest is the life stance of genuinely generous people. They hold what gifts God has put before them with palms outstretched and with 'gentle hands.'

It was a good challenge for me today also. What am I holding with clenched fists? What do I hold with 'gentle hands?' What conditions do I place on gifts I consider sharing? Who are the generous ones who surround me to whom I might find inspiration?

And if you're up for a challenge, try a private moment in the posture of the absolum prayer stance. You might even say the words to the Beatles'song, "Mother Mary come to me. Speaking words of wisdom. Let it be."

Upcoming:
Santa Irene, 30km away

Carinosamente,

Deacon Willie

23 May 2013
One month on Camino this day

Hospital, Spain
78 km from Santiago

S A T A N
JEOPARDY

Buen Camino

This was another great walk through the Galacia province. It was through soft-spirited, dense, pine forests, farms with the distinct aroma of "country air," and wide, mud-hardened trails. It did include a 300m climb which was an intense breath-stealer.

I made it to the top by leaning down toward my toes and, using my breath with one foot step, said the word, "HAVE" and the next footstep to the word, "FAITH." One step, have ; next step, faith. I prayed each and every footstep. I guess it's my silly mind game to get me to the top of a intensely steep hill. I works.

It has been particularly exciting to have broken the 100km mark to Santiago. Now each camino marker builds greater excitement and anticipation. Today I sit 78km from Santiago on a gorgeous spring day. The pictures I attached overlook the countryside from the little dining area where we stay for the night.

It's a treat today. We are staying at a Hotel with a real bath, real bed with linen, and only the three of us in the room( it's cheaper to share with 3-4 when in these camino hotels, and it's quite common). Far better than an albergue of 56! The thought just came to us, we are down to the last three albergues to endure before reaching Santiago. Amen!

I had a surprising day in my thinking today. With Santiago this close, one would think that only spiritual, holy thoughts would consume one.Well, it was a challenging day. It wasn't until late in the day of all these thoughts that I could recognize the humor in what was happening to see it for what it was. With that end-of-the-day-insight, I engaged my creative thinking to call this day's thoughts by a new game show I invented called, SATAN JEOPARDY.

Here's what revolved in my reflection today. Only now can I laugh at it all and play with it.

The categories in Satan's game show were as follows:


People who have offended me
People who are arrogant
Old hurts
Things that make me angry
Times someone stole my ideas for their benefit
Loud, angry comments that hurt my feelings
Times I was taken for granted
Things to worry about

I found myself stewing over each of these categories today. I hated, hated having such things work like a carousel-round and round, up and down- in my head. I wanted to think only about being so near the cathedral and all that has inspired me since the calling to el Camino de Santiago de Compostela in March,2012. I wanted only those fun thoughts. Instead, I had this junk in my head.

It's only now that I can be entertained by the challenge by making fun of it as a silly, Satan game show. I really liked the whole imagination of how Satan gets my/our attention with categories like the one's I listed. You might have new or others to include. It's as if he gets me/our attention and allows us to choose a hot-button category. Can you hear yourself saying: "I'll take 'People Who Have Offended Me for 200." ? Then the whole darn memory repeats and a little bit more of my/our peace is lost. Not long afterward my/our response to the first question, I/we get into it and then we're calling for another square for 300, then 400, then 500.

Before long I/we are full tilt into Satan's game show. Choosing another category and raising the stakes creates an ugly energy that can be addicting. True? The energy is all dark and selfish. Before long, I/we have moved into Satan's Final Jeopardy round. Here he presents the manipulatively worded, emotionally charged, perfectly chosen question to put my/your "faith-in-action calling" in jeopardy.

Surprising thing about how one gets invited into this game. I don't believe that I/we choose to go there. I tend to think I/we slide gently into it. It's begins with a little intriguing invitation to one of the categories, ideas grow, old emotions are activated, and SO VERY deceptively, it's as if he has his arm around our shoulder, Satan walks you/me into deeper and deeper darkness.

While that's happening, I/we find ourself getting agitated. Our ego gets involved, and I/we replay what was said, what, 'by God', would be said the 'next' time such a thing would occur, and how I/we'd show the offender 'next' time. A whole new theatrical performance of might and brilliance is performed in our thinking in order to put the offender in his/her submissive place.

Wow! It's all his STUPID game. Satan Jeopardy. He worked hard on me today. The grace and blessings of Santiago are just days away, and he wanted to pirate my joy.

Here's how I quit his game. I said the rosary. It's not my customary prayer routine, but it is kryptonite for Satan. The Blessed Mother and Satan are diametrically opposed. Purity and evil can NOT coexist. She is pure, in communion with the Trinity, has the ear of her son, she is holy. And Satan, well, he's a deceiver and soul robber.

So why does God allow such temptation? Consider the story of Job in the Old Testament. I'd encourage you to read even the first part of the book. It all began with God and Satan in conversation over Job, a devout lover of God. Satan asks God for the opportunity to break Job's faith in Him. God grants Satan this opportunity, knowing that Job's faith would triumph. You can read the story. Satan creates torment in Job's life, and he suffered great anguish. In spite of it all, Job's beautiful faith perseveres. Why? Because he kept his eye on faith.

I can only imagine that with each trial, Job might have said to himself, "HAVE. . . FAITH. HAVE. . .FAITH HAVE . . .FAITH

1 Peter reads, "Be happy about this. Our faith, which is more precious than gold, must be tested in fire." The test makes it pure, and the explanation given to me is that as gold is being purified in the intense heat, the refiner knows it is pure only when he can see his own reflection in the molten gold.

I think this is true for us. Our faith is and must be tested in fire. Satan provides a valuable test for us. In the fires of temptation, our precious faith is made pure.

If you should find yourself playing one of Satan's worthless games, keep the image of Jesus' mom in mind. No greater wrath is there than a mother's protection.

And when Satan is testing your faith, "be happy about this." It's being refined.

I pray that mine/ours is a mirror reflection of our dear maker's face.

Upcoming:
somewhere 24km closer to Santiago, Lord willing

Carinosamente,

Deacon Willie

22 May 2013

Ferreiros, 98km from Santiago

Watch Me!

For all who have said prayers for me, I am deeply grateful. There's a story as to how I think my foot injury developed, but I have made some adjustments and am using an anti inflammatory prescription and am managing. I made it 27km today on some steep climbs and long rolling hills. It took us 8hrs to get here, and it was the last place available with any open beds. Many new pilgrims are dropping in on spots along the camino to walk the last 100km, the minimal requirement to officially get a Compostela certificate.

My toe was manageable, due in fact to so many prayers. I am so grateful to God because this might qualify as my favorite walking day on the camino. We are the province of Galacia. It resembles a northern Wisconsin backroad or something one might see in the Ozarks. A stiff 100m long climb followed by rolling to flat trail through heavy forest and streams. We had to walk through some mountain streams along the way, pass by little waterfalls, travel along a paths that had ancient stone walls covered in moss and viney flowery plants. It was paradise for me.

What was also stimulating was the reflection God put upon me. The beginning of which was when I was a little boy trying to climb the ladder take a ride down a park district slide. The whole scene unfolded in such precious detail.

On one of my first attempts, I recalled grabbing the galvanized steel handrail, polished by 5yr old daredevils before me, and taking each painstaking step up what seemed like a 500ft climb. I reach the top and become frozen with how I'd ever get my foot up on the slide and still find a way to sit. There I would be, frozen in fear, and searching in desperation for a parent to save me. Of course, I was too paralyzed to descend, and the braver kids below me would never think to walk back down to give me room to step back to ground level. There my dad had to climb over kids to the very top in order for me to leap a death-grip around his neck while he carried me down.

Some time later and braver, I attempted the climb and slide again. This time I had the courage of a 6 year old. Eyes bugged, grit determination on my face, and sheer will power to I make it to the top of the tower ( top of the slide). Something inside of me caused me to sit at the top, search out my parents and shout out, "Watch me!" My mom and dad would look, give an encouraging wave, and I would make the plunge. This was followed with all the glowing smiles of my parents and "atta boys" that made it clear that they were so proud of me. My effort gave them pleasure.

I got to relive these same proud moments with each of my kids. Their first heroic climb to the top, some needing a rescue, and eventually the brave, solo climb to the top of the ladder, a shout out, "Watch me!" followed by the sheer joy on their face when it was accomplished.

My reflection today led me to consider how our Daddy in heaven is that interested in our every dare-devil ride in life. I believe He is just as attentive to us as we take to the stairs of some adventure we climb into during our life. He is there to rescue us when the fear grips us. He is there for the time when we shout out, "Watch me!"

My reflection led to recall some scary climbs in my life. Times I stretched my abilities and skills to do more during my career. Times I was at the top of the ladder trying to do the parent thing right/better. Times I over committed to some project. Times I bit off too much for some grand goal.

All during these times our Dad in heaven was watching. Sadly, I don't think I gave Him a thought. After all, this was my climb. Watch if you want, Lord, but this is my adventure,thankyouverymuch. I felt shame about how I excluded Him.

Because we believe that "God is all knowing, all seeing, all powerful," we also can accept that He was present for all these life climbs to the top of the slide regardless of whether I included Him in my adventure.

He saw them all. And like a parent, He witnessed them with the same joy we parents do/did by witnessing a child's joy on a slide adventure. He is every bit the same proud Daddy watching one of His kids. He created us for His pleasure to enjoy life with Him.

In any one of those climbs to the top of the slide, all I/we need to do is shout out, "Watch me!" Imagine Him watch with the pride and love of a parent. How He runs to rescue me/us when we're gripped with fear. How much pleasure, no honor, it would give Him to have one of His kids shouting out for Him. Yes, our Abba, finds pleasure when we beg for His attention and watchfulness.

"Watch me!" I reflected upon this all day today. How much pleasure it gave me to call upon Him as my Daddy to watch my every step. I loved the image of days ahead when a new climb will be before me again. How I can still be that little kid gripping the well worn rail, take the shaky step upon step higher and higher, and know that before the plunge, I can call to Him, "Watch me!"

And He will- with great delight. We are His dearly beloved kids. His eye is always on us.

Isn't that what Matthew 6:26 is about?" His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He's watching me."

Why? Because He loves us so much that He can't take His eyes off of us. That's so easy to relate to. Especially when my kids were little and first home. I couldn't take my eyes off of them. That is so true for my grandkids. My love for them is immense. I can fill a day just staring at them and relishing in who they are.

Our Daddy in heaven is every bit that crazy about us.

Put a smile on God's face. On your next life climb, call out to Him, "Watch me!" Feel His smile upon you.

And when you get too scared, Hear Him call out to you, "Watch me!" my beloved.

Watching is a joy-filled, two way view.

Upcoming:
We're 98km from Santiago.
More climbs and beautiful patchwork farms on the Galacia hillsides.

Carinosamente,

Deacon Willie

21 May 2013

Samos, 13km east of Sarria

Conversatio Morum
Constant/continuing conversion

Buen Camino

We walked from the mts today and after some 10km we finally dropped below the snow line and the clouds were then above us. It was a breath-taking view. I so loved all of today's walk.

Once we descended from the mts, we chose the long route to Samos, the location of the oldest, largest monastery in the western world. The walk required an additional 6km and additional 720m in ascending along the way, but it was through gorgeous green forests and along a pleasantly noisy babbling stream. It was like music for the walk.

Entering Samos was quite an experience. The monastery is huge. It was built in the 6th century and parts added on over the next 300years or so. This monastery has a reputation for the monks singing in Gregorian chant. We went to vespers, evening prayer, and enjoyed the monks singing. It was so reverent, though completely unrecognizable. Nonetheless, I so enjoyed the prayer time in a place that has such rich history of deeply devout believers.

Eric and I were talking, and he pointed out some of the history of St. Benedict, who was one the church's great reformers.

He shared with me that Benedict was most known for Conversatio Morum, that is a life of constant, continual conversion.

As I contemplated this, it felt like good news for the faith life. That is, it is filled with hope for a future that will have even further conversion into more of what Christ will develop in the faith I/we currently have. It means that the joy that I/we experienced from our initial conversion, will be made fresh.

I really appreciated that truth. When I revisit the memory of when my faith life ignited, it gives me great joy because it means that there are booster rockets in future conversion experiences.. I recall how in love with Jesus I felt. How I saw Him in everyone and everything. How alive the scriptures were in me.

The joy is that Jesus is never done with me/us. He draws us deeper and deeper into the mystery of His great love, His great mercy, His great power. All of those initial experiences of faith are integral in a constant/continual conversion.

These joys never grow stagnate. I/we worship a God who keeps making all things new. No other faith has that dimension. Other faiths are rooted in messages of the past. Our faith embodies being born again, and again, and again.

Constant, continual conversion.

Short blog today, Carinos. The tour of the monastery, vespers, and late dinner has tightened my time.

Please pray for me. I have had a nagging pain in my foot over the past days grow full force pain today. On my left foot, my one toe has gotten so swollen that it's nearly doubled in size. It's the toe that "didn't have roast beef." By this evening it has become difficult to walk without a limp. Not good for the hilly country that is increasing each day as we head into Santiago.

Upcoming:
through Sarria, 122 km from Santiago

Carinosamente,

Deacon Willie

20 May 2013

Rebiero, east of Sarria

OCD
Obsessive Compulsive Disorder

Buen Camino

Today was the famed climb to O'Cebiero. The walk was filled with adventure and insights. I'll admit its reputation had to much of my attention. The nasty little surprise was that there was not one strong climb, but two. The second was a brutal 2km stiff climb at a 40 degree incline. I felt I was leaning straight for my toes.

As for the day, praise God, there was no rain. The sky was partly cloudy and there was only an occasional nippy breeze in the mid 40's to bite at our fingers and cheeks. Not bad.

The walk was a 700m ascent over about 8km after the 2km approach. The trail was abundantly strewn with all my beloved rocks and boulders stuck in lots of mud. Fortunately, the mud was semi dry which reduced the slippage. So very grateful for that. I've been so consumed with all the opportunities to slip on a rock and break something. This was confirmed by a pilgrim I met yesterday from Waukegan who did the camino last year. He got about this far and slipped on loose rocks on the trail, broke a foot, and was denied the walk into Santiago. He's back again to complete the mission.

Today, we walked km after km, step by step in a stiff climb. Watch your step, look where to place your foot with a secure footing, navigating through large, slippery, mud puddles, plant your poles in mud, not on rock where your pole will slip behind you and you'll lose your grip, stop for a breather on occasion for lung need and yet keep a walking progress. These are just some of the step by step compulsive thoughts that occupied my every step. You'd think all you had to do was just walk on the camino. NO WAY. Each step has a potential fall.

It that wasn't enough, there were the many pilgrims you encountered on the camino that walked at so many different paces. Walking behind them you had to pay attention whether they were struggling and would sway back and forth the width of the trail. Then, there were many young 20 somethings that passed at a humbling pace. Giving them space to fly by was something that needed attention and respect.

Then there was the fact that this trail was shared by those who ride horses up and down this stretch of the camino. Because I was obsessed with a study at my feet for every step and every loose boulder/stone to that I might trip upon, I also had to be ever vigilant for the 'deposits.' One poor beast must have gotten into a case of ex-lax before his camino ride. There was such an abundance of the deposits. Not only did one have to hop-scotch-jump between rocks, but also the horse deposits and slippery mud puddles. And there was no "SKY BLUE" free spots along the way. This was only part of the adventure with what these animals left for the trail. The smell would rival a latrine at a state park during an August summer, sunny day. Sometimes it nearly gaged me.

You may be getting the picture of the strain my climb had on me. I was full blown Obsessed Compulsively Disordered. So overly attentive on where 'I' was going.

Somewhere near the peak at O'Cebiero, I awoke to where God was taking me. It was a scene from the movie, "Sound of Music." The mountain landscape was breathtakingly gorgeous. Far in the distance was a close up view of snowy mt peaks, valleys of patchwork farms, a cloud-line just above the peaks, and a stunning palette of so many lively shades of green. I've seen the Rocky Mts, the Canadian Rockies, the Andes Mts of S.A. This was far superior to their beauty.

Once I got my eyes off my boots, and where I was going, I awoke to where God was taking me. I was literally captured by this scene. It was the kind of panorama that makes one gasp for air and exhale an "Oh My God!" Here I was so transfixed on the minutia of my day, that I lost the beauty of God's beauty around me.

Do you hear the lesson God gave me today, Carinos? That was the lesson I experience today. I heard the echoes of so many days I've had OCD with where 'I' wanted to go. So many days I have spent almost obsessive over my agenda, what I "needed' to get done, how compulsive I have been about getting everything on my day's 'to do list' conquered, how overly attentive to the 'manure' that was left in my path, and how unfair it was to navigate around this needless mess. After such a long, strenuous climb of where I wanted to go, I was 'heaven shocked' to awaken to where God wanted me to go.

All I had to do was first admit that it's not 'all about me.' In my busy, big-boy, important days that's easy to forget. Secondly, I need to get my attention off my feet and to the beauty around me. God's beauty and beautiful people are right before me, IF I would only take that a pause and breath it in.

And when I'm not sure where He's taking me, I can just ask Him. "Where are you taking me today, Lord? What do you want me to learn right now? Please show me."

I believe He LOVES these kinds of mid-course-day prayers. He's our Dad and so wants to give us reminders of all the love and care He has prepared along our day's path for me/ us.

My OCD stole the joy of where God was taking me today. Don't let it rob you of where God is inviting you.

The view is breath-taking.

Upcoming:
30k from Sarria
A comfortable walk tomorrow

Carinosamente,

Deacon Willie

19 May 2013
Pentecost Sunday

Ruitelan, east of O'Cebiero
a 700 m steep climb tomorrow

Power of Paradox

Buen Camino

God is good, so good. Today the rain held off, and we walked along asphalt and cinder pilgrims' paths with a highway on one side, the delightful sound of a raging stream on the other, and tall, green mts that dropped steeply alongside. What a perfect day for safe walking, getting immersed in my Christian music, and the wonderful reflection God gave me today. Jesus' poor ears listening to me chatter away all day.

A special line in my favorite song, "God's Own Fool", is this: "And the power of paradox opens your eyes, and blinds those who say they can see."

Our Christian faith is filled with paradox. It's a topic not discussed often. Jesus was both man and God-paradox. There are three Gods in one-paradox. Jesus died and rose again-paradox. Mary was a virgin and yet mother of Jesus-paradox.

We don't particularly contemplate the idea of paradox for as the good bishop said, "We like water-tight answers." God's truths can take us so far until the paradox of faith must be the bridge to take us further on the journey of faith. Paradox keeps us dependent and hungry to learn more about God.

Then, there are the paradoxes contained in the gospels. "To gain one's life you must lose it; you must have faith the size of a mustard seed; the blind see; be born again; rise from the dead; faith can move a mountain;
All are paradoxes, that is, challenges to live beyond a simple faith into a greater faith.

Perhaps it is the fact that it's Pentecost Sunday or just the invitation God placed in my heart for the person to whom I dedicated this day in prayer. Her life of obedience to faith many would call a paradox.

It was God's pleasure and my joy to pray for my sister-in-law, Sr. Jean Amore, all day.

A little history: I met Sr. Jean at the Amore's home when I went for a visit to spend time with my honey before we were married some 40+ years ago. I vividly recall the "Wow" factor to meeting a sister in someone's family. I went to St. Barbara's School where the good sisters taught us. But, to be at a home where a sister was raised really "Wowed" me. Also impressive was that her mother and father addressed her as "Sister." This set her with distinction and respect I'd not heard in a family before.

Through the years, Sr. Jean has a highly regarded place of honor in the Amore family. Rightfully so.

Today's reflection of her elicited a paradox of sorts. When someone hears that you have a "sister" in the family, they take notice. I'm guessing that if you were to ask them about their thoughts, they'd likely say, "I could never do that. or It's takes someone really special to give their entire life to God. Everything. Not me. Not anyone in my family." Them trying to figure it out would be, well, a paradox.

The precious gift of Sr. Jean as a sister-in-law has lifted some of the mystery of 'sisterhood' to recognize her for the pure beauty she is. She was, in fact, only one of 6 people to whom I shared details of the intimate spiritual encounter that called me to the camino. I'll never forget how enriching it was to have her spiritual connection.

The more I dwelt in my day of reflection for Sr. Jean, I was brought to see so many of her beautiful qualities. These included her deep well of peace within, the edifying way in which she listened-wisely and compassionately, the conviction of her faith, and the unmistakable joy she displays around family.

We walked about 27km today. All the way, God kept flipping a picture chart of memories of Sr.Jean. Today is Pentecost Sunday. The day the apostles had tongues of fire descended upon them. A day they could speak in different tongues. We need the spirit to teach us how to speak in many languages of Jesus' love. The world is hungry, no starved, for His message.

Speaking is one thing. Acting is another. Giving your life is a far greater thing. This is what Sr. Jean has done, as well as other religious who have given their life for the faith. They've given it all. Their own family, spousal companionship, and children in place of a vow of poverty, chastity, and obedience. All are paradoxes for us outside of this kind of faith commitment. Their life choice is planted firmly in a power of paradox, not to be overlooked or taken for granted.

God displayed the beauty of the dear ones who live the power of paradox. They are lighthouses of faith for us.
My Sr. Jean, is a treasure for me, recalled today on this Pentecost Sunday.

It comes to mind that Sr. Jean's meek and humble nature might find all this gush about her uncomfortable. She may be blushing and shouting, "Stop already."

Be blessed today, Sr. Jean. God's day of reflection of your life today blessed me. I send love from the camino to you and the other sisters today.

I pray that your example of faith and that of all religious, will awaken the power of paradox within all of us to be more selfless as one who is first called to serve, rather than to be served.

Upcoming:
O'Cebiero and its infamous steep climb700 m
FYI, we've walked over 600 km thus far; about 165km until Santiago

Note: a correction. The climb up Cruz de Ferro was NOT 1000m, but 700m. Wrong info that has bugged me to correct. It still felt like climbing Everest.

Blessed Pentecost

Carinosamente,

Deacon Willie

18 May 2013

Cacabelos, just west Ponferrada
We're in a place of outdoor rooms, no heat
Temps below 0 degree C

Junk-yard-dog-like kindness

Buen Camino

Yet another day of cold rain and heavy, dark cloudy skies. The walk was level and relatively easy to walk. It was just the cold rain that pierced one through.

Walking toward Ponferrada offered a gorgeous view of the mts. You could see the snow falling on them with the dusting of snow covering the peaks. Impressive.

One place I would have loved to stop for a long visit was the Castle of Ponferrada. It was a 12th century castle that was later reinforced and managed by the Knights Templar. I've been captivated by the stories of the KT along the camino. They were noble men of character and reputation who gave their life in protection of the pilgrims. It was an ordeal and honor to become a KT.

Their castle was a huge structure and had all the classic architecture of turrets and high stone walls. A tour wasn't meant to be.

Today I actually spent my meditation replaying an event that occurred the night before. You'll remember the difficult day we had through snow and cold along those stony covered trails yesterday. The day ended with my taking a bed at an albergue about 50m down the road from where Eric and Joyce got the last two beds. That place was designated to be our dinner place too.

After a perfectly miserable shower, I was off on a back track to get meal for the night at that albergue. The rain had let up and I walked it in light jacket and sandals.

I settled into the dining area of the place and spent an hour plus on the blog entry, 'foot of the cross.' When I was done, a strong, cold rainstorm overtook the place. The raindrops fell so hard that it rattled everything and hit with such force, rain seemed to spring from the sidewalks. It made the cold air even heavier and made you tuck yourself in and shiver.

I inquired about a dinner ticket only to learn that they were all sold out. No dinner. I sat inside finishing a beer and small bag of peanuts wondering what to do.

There were only three people who ran the place. The two men scurried around preparing the long dining tables for the pilgrims' meal. Long white paper table coverings, wine glasses, large white bowls for soup, and baskets of fresh warm bread. I stood there looking on like an observer to a banquet, but not invited.

I tried asking the other man if there was any way he could please let me have a place for dinner. His reply, " No! Es completa." It's complete. Done."

I stood in the foyer of the place near a bar that was just outside of the dinner area. Beyond the bar, I could see out the windows at this cold rainstorm. What do I do? I could continue the 1 km walk back to town, but I wasn't dressed for such a walk. I could run back to my dump of an albergue and eat the granola bar in my pack and drink water, thereby calling it quits for the night. Ahh, no dinner after such a hard day in the snow. Such an unpleasant thought especially because my legs ached so terribly.

As I stood by the bar fixed upon the storm outside, the dinner setting prepared inside, I thought I'd ask if it was at all possible they'd let me have a dinner to eat on the patio outside under the canopy. The man's reply,"No! No es posible." He turned my view down the road to where town was.

From no where, a lady who was working in the kitchen near the bar came out. She asked, "Cuantas personas?" How many people? I replied, "Solamente uno." Only one.

She calls out to one of the men who had given me a 'no' answer and told him to give me a spot. There was a lively discussion of which he kept saying to her, "No. Es completa." Now the other man with the 'no' answers got in the discussion, all the while I was patiently standing at the bar.

All three of them argued for a good long time. She kept saying, " Una mas. Una mas!"
The men responded with a long argument, none of which I understood, but it always ended with, " No. Es completa." The argument came to a rolling boil until the point I found myself in the middle of eyes. These three were really at it. Not even knowing what they were saying, I knew that I was the topic of their argument. It was so awkward.

After a long, loud conversation, it was as if these were prize fighters recognized the bell had rung and that they should go back to their corner. The two men huddled and discussed something, as if a new strategy to use against this woman. She turned from them and did some busying with whatnot behind the bar.

Here's where the God moment awakened. Slyly, she stole a glance at the two men, then shot one back to me, gave me a wink, lifted her index finger as if to suggest, "Just wait."

In short moment later, these three Spaniards launched into the verbal battle of a lifetime. All three were shouting at one another. Both kept shouting, "No completa! NO, NO!!!" She countered with, "Una mas. Solamente una. UNA MAS!"

Somewhere in the middle of this doneybrook, she shot me another quick wink, raised that finger as to assure me to keep waiting, and raised an eyebrow.

This woman let into those two men with what I clearly understood, from painful experience, was a full can of butt chewing. I really didn't know the words she was using in her assault, but I could feel the power of her language. It was abundantly clear that this woman was chewing away at them. The men would look to each other as to consider an rebuttal to her tongue lashing, at which point, she would shoot me another assuring look.

The climax came when she raised her voice and started stabbing her index finger in the air at both men. She barked away at them, almost as it to shame them, and became so insistent.

This little lady became a junk-yard-dog-like kindness promoter for one weary pilgrim. After a final fury of language peppered with UNA MAS! UNA MAS! SOLAMENTE, UNA MAS while in the center of a stunned crowd of listeners and onlookers in the foyer, the argument abruptly ended.

She looked back at me, gave me another wink, tapped my hand gently and did a stare down of the two NO men.

Graciously, the one man looked to me, motioned with one sweep of his arm with an open palm, and said politely, "Senor, Acqui." and escorted me to the dining area accompanied by the sights and ugly sounds of the frigid, rainstorm outdoors.

After entering the dining area, I could perceive why the two men were so insistent against another. There was plenty of room, but they had already fully completed all the table settings. To add one more meant to lift place settings for the 16 at the one table, slide the white paper table covering down to the end to accommodate one more place, and then re set all the place settings again. My suspicion was that their 'no' was motivated by lazy.

Shortly therafter, the good bishop and Joyce arrived completely oblivious to the ordeal. Another couple we met from Ireland also arrived, and we all sat to have a peaceful dinner. Little did they know of the fight that just ensued that won me my meal. It was a warm and pleasant meal, and I was so grateful.

After the meal, I found this lady who fought like a junk-yard-dog for me. I wanted to thank her. As I went to thank her, I put out a handshake gesture then grasped hers hand with both of mine. I said, in exceptionally poor Spanish, "Senora, muchas gracias. Yo necesito por algun misericordia. Tu fue Jesus para me eso noches. Dios te bendiga, Senora" Real Spanish speakers will laugh at some of my attempt, but it was meant to communicate that I thanked her. That I needed some mercy and that she was Jesus for me this night. God bless you, Senora.

Then while holding her hand between both of mine, I kissed them and gave another "Gracias"

She replied, "De Nada." and we left in a little teary-eyed good bye.

As I replayed that event over and over again today, I was struck by many layers of the lesson. For one, I don't recall anyone, even myself, who was ever so tenacious about doing a kindness for another. I've been with, and even done so myself, tried to gently convince someone to be more compassionate, be more kind, be a bit more lenient with someone. They/I had tried a humble, gentle persuasion.

Never before had someone been so intensely argumentative about being kind.

Perhaps the deepest imprint upon me during that confrontation was how this woman fought for me in a way like a "junk-yard-dog" would protect. This woman really fought for me. I didn't ask her. I didn't grovel or beg. She read something in me, maybe the spirit moved her. This woman fought like a mad dog to ensure a kindness for me. Not one time, not a second, but three rounds of fierce arguments all so that I could have a meal there and avoid a walk thought the rain.

She did not do a kindness. She fought for kindness. She persisted for kindness. She was unwavering for kindness. She was a shield against selfishness and insensitivity. She stood in the gap and stabbed a single finger into the faces of two strong, flint-jawed men of self-righteousness and injustice.

If this little lady were a warrior, on her breastplate would have been 8 mighty statements called The Beatitudes.

And she took up her fight for simply,
"Solamente, una mas" only one more of God's pilgrims.

Great lesson for me today. To develop into one of those who fight like a "junk-yard-dog-for kindness."

It is more than a beatitude I want within, but to become.

Kindness for una mas
y una mas
y una mas
y una mas
y una mas

Uncoming:
Herrias, just east of O'Cebreiro

Carinosamente,

Deacon Willie

17 May 2013

Molinesca

Foot of the cross

Buen Camino

If a pilgrimage was to include hardships, this day would have had a marquee billing. The day was overwhelmingly difficult. I had a nice room with a German couple. During the nite they woke me to stop my snoring. I had rolled over on my back and punished them for a while. They were ready to commit homicide, motioning a wringing of my neck for the snoring disturbance. I apologized profusely.

The day was met with snow. We walked for about 7km and found ourself in a picturesque snow globe. It appeared such a beautiful gift from God. The vegetation of shrubs and flowering plants were covered so gorgeously by the snow. It was a stunning beauty. But it was a challenging climb. It required an ascent to equal 1000 meters to reach the 1909 height we were targeting. That's 1000 meter sticks stacked end on end. It was so difficult in all the snow on the trail. So slippery and difficult to get one's footing.

We continued on until we reached the the holiest shrine on the camino, Cruz de Ferro. If I read it correctly, the cross was erected in 980 and pilgrims over the centuries had placed what is called a "sorrow stone" at the base. These golf ball sized stones have accumulated to create a mound one must climb of at least 10ft in order to reach the base of the cross. My photos won't give it justice because the snow covered the entire landscape.

I left Eric and Joyce to have some prayer time for all family and friends. I went name by name, prayer need by prayer need, and placed your plea to God at the foot of the cross. It was a very moving experience because of how deeply reverent and holy the spot is. Attached to the outside of the pole that holds the iron cross on the top, are sacramentals and photos to represent people's deep sorrows. I attached the a rosary given by the Gooch family to offer to God for family healing of their sorrows.

There are so many stories of heart-broken pilgrims.

One quick story recently told of a pilgrim's sorrow. It was of a 45 yr old lady from Holland. She ached from the fact that she was barren, and her husband and she cried for a child to love. Her stone of sorrow was for the child she never bore. Many other stories of sorrow are told in the sorrow stones at the foot of the cross. Your sorrow was placed there today.

From there we headed on the descent. Here is where painful hardship intensely began. The weather turned so ugly nasty. We walked into a full snow storm. The snow with sleet hit our face and made the trail nightmarishly dangerous. Every step was on snow covered mud and slippery rock. Each step was a step onto what could be a fall. Again, with a pack of 20 lbs, a fall or even a stutter step, would thrust one to the ground rapidly. The trekking poles were life savers- literally.

Km after km we descended the 1100 m over all the mud and rock. The snow wouldn't relent. Visibility was at best 100 yds, length of a football field. It was more manageable when we had to walk on the highway; there was good footing. Then the trail returned to the mud and rock that descended deeper and deeper into the valley.

Because it was so precarious, one had to stick a pole into whatever mud was nearby and step carefully on the snowy rock beneath. One step, one step, one scary step at a time and many through pools of cold snow melt. My quads screamed and were on fire from the painfully slow descent. It also took such concentration for hours on end to avoid a fall.

By God's good grace we made it into town to the albergue. Sadly, there were only two beds remaining and we were at the last of the places to stay in this town. The good bishop and wife got the beds, and I moved down the road to the last available place. It resembles a dorm room from a college frat house. So painful to accept for a 62yr old after such a day.

I thought about what God might be wanting me to learn here today. I felt so much suffering from today's strain of the trail and the physical demands. My feet and legs are in such pain and there is no comfort in the place where I sleep tonite.

I choose to lay it all down at the foot of the cross.

Leave your sorrows at the foot of the cross, like a sorrow stone. Leave it behind, and move forward with me in the faith and hope of God's graces ahead.

Upcoming:
Ponferida

Carinosamente,

Deacon Willie

16 May 2013

Rabanal, just east of Cruz de Ferro
holiest shrine on Camino

Wait of the beam

Buen Camino

This was a difficult day for me. I don't know what thought might have overtaken me, but as soon as I awoke, staring at another camino day was such a challenge. Getting out of a warm bed in early morning, facing a cold, windy day of hard walking, and the strong possibility of rain was uninviting.

The words to one of my favorite songs rattled in my head:
God's Own Fool

"Seems I've imagined Him all of my life
Of the wisest of all of mankind
And if God's only wisdom
Was foolish to man
He must have been out of His mind

Come and follow God's own fool
Where only the foolish can tell
Be the unbelievable
Come be a fool as well

So surrender the hunger to say"I must know"
Have the courage to say, "I believe"
For the power of paradox
Opens our eyes
And blinds those who say they can see

Then you'll have the faith
His first followers had
And you'll feel the weight of the beam"

These lyrics rattled along for km after km and before long I was finding myself getting really down. I have loved my camino walk with Jesus. I have cherished the long chats Jesus and I are having. I have had no regrets as to the aches and pains and fearful challenges the camino path involves.

Until this morning. Here's where being the gracious and noble pilgrim fell short in me. As I walked along on this dreary day draped in dark cloud cover and grey horizon, the wind bit at my fingers until they pained me. The stiff breeze met us head on and the scenery was uninteresting.

Before long I had my first really disappointing thoughts. I had the "What am I doing this for? Look what this is costing me in pains and suffering. And what I'm missing."

Yes, I fell full blown into an account of all I am sorely missing. I walked along sorely missing so many things at home. I missed the sweet kiss of my honey. I missed my daughter and our daddy/daughter heart to heart talks. I missed my son and his wife and all that was happening in their life.

And most painfully, I miss my grandson. I cherish Thursday's, that would be today, my Papa care days for little Brady. I found myself consumed with emotion with how much this was costing me in watching him grow. Sure, only three weeks, but I missed him learning to crawl and all his baby babble sounds. I missed the feel of his little hand playing his eye glass thievery. I sorely missed the sound of his laughter as I blew into his Buddha belly.

I was one, blubbering cry baby at this point. I was so full-blown homesick. Gratefully, I was walking alone and could let myself have a big, ol cry. And I did, for quite a while.

I got to thinking, once again, of the words in this song. I love the song. It's my favorite. But the "you'll have the faith His first followers had," largely escaped me. I prayed and requested of friends to pray that "my faith is strong" for the camino. And I meant it. With stronger faith, I believed I could face all the challenges.

I thought, " Lord, I don't come close to the faith your first followers had. I'm no where close. This has been a faith challenge beyond me. I'm out of faith and strength right now, Lord."

Then the next line, " And you'll feel the weight of the beam." Jesus carried his beam, and we're called to pick up our cross and follow. Then we'll feel the weight of the beam planned for us.

The tearful pilgrim in me cried, "The beam's too heavy. I'm tired of it. I don't like carry it anymore."

Not a pretty picture for a pilgrim. True. I'm just being honest. I really struggled between the emotion of what I was missing and the idea of this heavy beam God had placed upon my shoulders.

I did feel the weight of the beam. The thoughts of all my homesickness today made my knees buckle under the weight of this timber stretched over my shoulders. And coincidentally, I developed a nagging pain between my shoulder blades from the weight of my pack. It hurst so.

For several hours God let me have a good, long cry and dwell on all I was missing. I imagined this beam on me and all the camino was costing me from home and loved ones. This beam's weight rested on me hour after hour, km after km. No let up.

At first I thought it was to be another reminder of "offering it up." I accepted the idea that this was the camino, and sacrifice is part of the pilgrimage. Then the song by Twilla Paris came on, "You're beautiful, the body of Christ."

Like a light switch, a new vision came over me. God gave me an image of the beam I had fashioned for myself for many years during episodes of my life. The qualities, "bigger, better, more and more came to mind. MORE and MORE and the 'faster the better' stood out. He let me see that the beam I had fashioned for myself was much heavier AND was much more difficult than the beam I was carrying.

Matthew 11: "Come to me all who are weary and heavy laden and I will give you rest. Learn from me for I am gentle and humble of heart. For my yoke is easy, and my burden light."

It was true. "How beautiful is the body of Christ" And His yoke is far easier and lighter.

More important than this awakening, was how God, our gentle teacher, let this be born in me. I recalled how, as parents and grandparents, we RUN when little Brady falls or gets hurt. We all dash to bring comfort and quiet his tears.

God was the patient teacher who let me settle into a long line of tearful thoughts. He let me wrestle a good long time under the weight of the beam.

He let me 'wait under the beam.' Rushing to lift it or bring quick comfort to one of his crying kids would have denied me this insight into my life. He was the good teacher who let me have the

Wait of the beam

It struck me that this is the technique of what a wise teacher and parent would do. Let his kids spend time learning for them self one of life's important lessons. The 'wait' gave a gift of time to let the lesson penetrate the heart, and to make it memorable.

Perhaps you have had a heartache for God to answer one of your prayers. It might well be a noble prayer. A prayer that would make life better and may just be desperately needed. The prayer might be an answer for a loved one who is struggling or failing. The silence in your prayer may not be a "NO' answer. It may be just to 'WAIT.'

Learn from God's lesson for me today.
Carinos, be strong under the

Wait of the beam

For He truly is gentle and humble of heart

Upcoming:
Cruz de Ferro, where the famous iron cross is located
Millions of pilgrims over the centuries leave a stone at the cross to represent the deepest heart desire and plea to God- for them self and for loved ones.

I leave one for you. Pray your heart's deepest desire to accompany me to place before the cross.

Carinosamente,

Deacon Willie

15 May 2013

Astorga

Listen to the candle light

Buen Camino

I so enjoyed this walk. It was only 18km, which we planned to do as a 'rest'day. It had two breath-stealer climbs of about 100m, not bad. The scenery was to die for. We walked full into snowy mt peaks all day. Having that as a focal point is not all bad. Loved it.

No Christian music today. I committed to a full day of just listening. A special prayer commitment. It had such a rich reward. I'll share the reflection/meditation in a short bit.

Y'all might find it interesting to learn of a surprise I had. Along the way, there was a younger man, named David, who set up a simple stand with fruit juices, coffee, fruits, cereal, coffee. When you approached, he'd walk out, ring a noisy bell, embrace you, and then invite you to help yourself to any of all that he had displayed. He'd say, " Un regalo para ti." This is a gift for you. As I rested with a simple rice cake coated in peanut butter, haven't had pb for weeks and missed it, I met a few Americans seated along the barn where the stand was set.

It turns out that this was a film crew from Chicago, near Bucktown, who have been following David for the past 4 years. David has given his life for pilgrims. He lived in the barn behind his stand for several years, but ran out of money, so he lives outdoors and uses the little donations pilgrims offer to keep the supplies for weary pilgrims.

More than the refresher, David possessed a deep quality about him. He wanted to know, "Where are you from friend? Please eat. Sit. Rest." He had such a memorable, warm smile. He was one very touching dear soul pilgrims will remember because of a quality about him that touched you deeply.

While I eat my pb treat, the documentary team started to engage pilgrims. "So, why are you doing the camino?" they'd ask. Pilgrims around me were offering vague answers like "I don't know. I guess I'll find out sometime."

The videographer, photographer, and I started a fun conversation. Turns out the video gal lived in Wheaton as a kid. She went to Wheaton North HS and graduated in '83. Up until recently, she drove into Wheaton to see Dr. Chuck Showalter, John's brother, for dental work. Later I met the film producer who lives in Winfield, just 1/2 mile from us. Pure definition of Pisanos.

In a short time, they asked me if I'd do an interview for the documentary. It was this easy. "Tell us why you're doing the camino?" I gave my answer, which led to many other questions and filming. In short order, the producer and I talked further. I shared about my blog, and they were quite interested. They asked my email address to update me regarding the documentary. We'll see. God only knows.

Before leaving, I went to David to thank him. I said, "Su corazon is bonito. Dios te bendiga. Dios te bendiga, amigo." We gave each other a hug and shared a tear and warm smile. I was off.

Here I sit now in Astorga. A bigger city, but not nearly so offensive as the busier ones. There is a town square that has an old gov't building. Atop the building are Hansel and Gretel characters that swing heavy hammers at a bell-every hour on the hour. Everyone scurries to the square to video and watch the charming event.

As for today, the meditation God gave to me can best be described as listening to the candle light. This came to mind from an experience I had before the camino started.

Some may know that I squeezed a one day visit at Lourdes, France. This is the location where the Blessed Mother appeared to Bernadette and announced that she was the Immaculate Conception. The Grotto where she appeared is nothing more than a tall outcropping of solid stone. It is not like the stratified, layered rock we might see. These are large solid boulders.

A miraculous sign of her visit today, is a weeping of healing water through the boulders. I have a degree in physical geography/geology. Nothing makes sense as to how water could weep through these type of rock as it does.

I walked my way into the grotto and knelt there in a pool of the water. I begged the Blessed Mother to heal my aching, injured "I T" band, a tendon that runs up my leg and attaches on the outside of my knee. I needed PT for relief prior to the trip. Her healing has carried me thusfar.

I would sit there all day and pray. They would have mass in a featured language of the hour. Didn't have clue, but I knew the prayers. My favorite was a candle light service at the grotto. The weather was so pleasant and it was so deeply peaceful. I could go on and on.

The point. There was a memorial lane just off the grotto. I bought 6 large candles and went to light them and say prayers.

One for Big Mo- Bob Amore
One for Mary
One for my day, Ray
One for my mom, Mickey
One for Cheri, Bus and Cindy's little girl
One for Tony, our son

I lucked out with a new stand with few candles there. I light each one and sat back in my own private prayer time. I watched the candles for a long time. What I was intrigued by was how the candle light for each flickered and danced.

As I reflected on each person the candle represented, I just listened. Weird, there is nothing but silent prayer while you're at a prayer memorial. Everyone respects the silence. I watched the flame of each candle dance, but I listened because each candle brought to memory the language of each loved one.

While staring at Big Mo's, I could almost hear his all too familiar greeting, "Hey, Potlicker." Then I could vividly remember the way he rattled Planters peanuts from the jar in his palm while trying to position them to pop into his mouth.

While staring at Mary's candle, I could hear her all too familar greeting, "So what's new?" And "Oh, I'm fine." She had a characteristic way of looking intently into one's face while studying what was being shared. She genuinely wanted to follow. Listen carefully and one can hear her gentle "Oh my," comments she inserted during a conversation. Loved the way she folded her arm around herself as if giving herself a Bob hug.

While staring at Ray, my dad's candle, I swear I could hear him singing his favorite song, "You're nobody til somebody loves you." Listening to the candle and his whistling came back to life. My dad could whistle like a bird, and on tune. He and my mom were accomplished jitterbuggers. People would clear the dance floor to watch them. I watched them dance again.

While staring at Mickey, my mom's candle, I could hear her abundant laughter. My mom loved to laugh, and her laugh was contagious. Listening to her candle I could bring back her laugh til I could hear her say, "I just wet my pants. I was persistent at trying to get my ma laughing. It gave us all us all such pleasure. I could easily lead into many tender ways my mom generously gave to others.

While staring at Cheri's candle, the candle light danced these words, "the only hard part is the first step." Cheri fought cancer for most of 14 years and has her fingerprints on many hearts. One outrageously fun thought was at a family gathering. She had a wig of long curls that Bus brought for her to wear. She had a hat on and was prepared to wear it. We were standing with them. Bus, in his clowning nature, took the wig and wore it. Cheri patiently waited while he entertained all of us. Cheri just shook her head as if to say, "That's just my crazy dad."

While staring at Tony's candle, I listened for so many conversations that I was starved to hear again. Only one, overly used comment of his kept surfacing. It was, "most definitely." He'd punctuate conversations, discussions, advice with those two words. Never know why, but it was his signature comment. One memory echoed. It was the night he took me out for movie and a beer. We lingered for a long while. Upon arriving home, it turned out he was responsible for keeping me out until the designated time for the surprise birthday party for me in the home. There is a picture of us just after I entered the door with him. He looked so proud to have had the lead in my surprise party.

This imagery was the beautiful reflection given to me today. It came as a surprise and a gift. We have memorial candles at home given at All Souls Day services. I've been with family who will light a candle in memorial of a loved one. Never had this been a notion, until today.

Try this on the birthday or anniversary of a loved one's death. Light the candle, look, and just listen. Yep, weird, but it surprised me what listening to the candle light of a memorial candle can evoke within us. The candle's light dances, gives off light and warmth, and is a wonderful sacramental of Christ's presence. It can illuminate a loved one's presence over again.

You'll want to give yourself some quiet, private, comfortable space to enjoy your reflection. Praying in front of candle light is rewarding too. The experience at the Grotto was penetrating for me. I plan to make it more of my prayer practice.

That's my encouragement to you today.

Listen to the light. Listen and embrace the gifts God has just for you.

Carinosamente,

Deacon Willie

14 May 2013

Hospitelaro
20km west of Astorga

Worry Ring

Buen Camino

We awoke completely rejuvenated. I slept the sleep of the dead which was so needed and appreciated. There are more and more 'new' pilgrims starting the trail. Some just started and the characteristic aches and foot injuries are obvious. Some have been traveling a while and are now injured and in risk of ending their pilgrimage.

One young Irish gal has severely injured her Achilles' tendon. A man I bunk near was addressing some foot wounds. When I inquired into his health, I recognized that he had such severe blisters just behind his toes that his skin was cracking and all under his toes was filled with pus abbess. It was so grotesque and painful looking. Worse was the look on injured pilgrims faces as they felt the impact of their injuries that might end their pilgrims walk.

Scary. Any of that could happen to any one of us. It could happen to me. A quick twist of an ankle on all the abundant loose stones or a fall and an pilgimage-ending injury could completely end the mission, just when we're just under 300 km from Santiago. We're getting so, very close.

This led me to contemplate the challenge of worry in my life. I offered to pray for many and friends before leaving for the camino and asked them to tell me in just ONE word, what they would like me to pray about for them.

Of the near 100 people who offered their prayer word, it is no surprise that the overwhelming majority asked that I pray for PEACE in their life.

Peace. We all crave it, love it when we're immersed in it, we spend and run long distances to revel in it. For so many, it is a rare, and we're starved for more of it.

Considering my morning scare and the coincidence of all who made it their premier prayer request, it became the focal point of my prayer meditation today.

When I examined episodes in my life when I was so starved for peace, it was due to one of two situations. In one situation, I was trying to make a big decision and was anxious about the choices. Do I/we buy the new car/ sell and downsize a home/ change jobs etc. Big changes.

The other episodes where peace was so absent, was due to worrying about something. We can all fill a list of reasons to worry. So many I visit in ministry are consumed in worry. The reasons are all logical. Usually the worry is rooted in a fear of what might happen. The worry grows like meringue in their mind. "If this happens, then this other bad thing will happen. If that happens, then OH MY GOD, how will I/We manage this terrible thing?" Worry makes more worry.

There is a whole litany of other worries: Worry about what might happen to someone we love. Worry about losing a job. Worry about a boss, a co-worker who is making work reputation questionable. Worry about a child who is living a risky life. Worry about a spouse's behavior, about their relationship which is turning rocky, about being consumed in all the time and energy it takes to be mom/dad, worker/ housekeeper/bill payer/provider, about waking up and finding that there is no more 'me' as a person- only doer of the 'next' thing on a list of never ending 'things' to do.
Some suffer from the worry that they are not happy and don't know what to do about life. All are just examples of how worry has impacted life.

Given as a whole, it is rather depressing. Worry over a long period of time can do great damage to one's life outlook. And it pays a great toll on all who live with them.

The meditation didn't dwell on this hopeless note. In fact, quite the opposite. I found myself meditating upon Matthew 4 and the story of Jesus' temptation. You may recall that language in the gospel is that the "spirit led Jesus into the desert, but the devil took him" to the temptations. This connected well with me.

So many episodes in my life I truly believe that God was in the decision, he was embedded in the discernment to move in a special direction. I believed God was calling me/us to it. Then, no sooner had I/we started this God-blessed activity, everything went haywire. Selling our old home and trying to buy our new one was such an episode. We truly believe God was encouraging the sell and move, but so many financial events scared the bejesus out of us. In the end, all happened in God's plan.

And all the worry! The spirit led, but the devil took us on a challenging ride.

God does not give us 'worry.' He does not give us fear. No where in Galatians 5 is there a fruit of the spirit called 'fear.' In fact, recollect how many times Jesus says, "Peace." or"My peace I give you, my own peace I leave with you." or "Dwell in my peace." Consider all the times Jesus uses the introduction of 'peace' in the gospels.

This combat between the worry I/we wage in life and the peace God wants for us led me to consider that perhaps I/we are not be militant enough against worry. Worry sounds to me to be Satan's effective weapon against us.

My meditation got me imagining how much pleasure, how much satisfaction Satan must enjoy when I/we get consumed in worry. It is so effective at stealing our joy, at abandoning our reliance on God, on centering all our attention on trying to outthink all of the ugly consequences. Worry must, I mean, must be so enjoyed by Satan in his observance of us.

In 1 John, it reads, " The devil, a roaring, hungry lion, is ready to devour us." Satan is known as "the prince of darkness, the father of lies." He lives in shadows of our life and is so deceitful in luring us into his traps. The spirit might lead, but Satan takes us. Let's call him what he is: a liar and cheat. He's a bully. He is a lover of hatred and evil. Jesus says in John 15, "I have come that you may have life in its fullest." Satan wants just the opposite.

My reflection was reminiscent of a Rocky movie. Rocky Balboa getting the snot beat out of him. He stayed in the ring and fought for his honor. He fought for his love. He fought a good fight.

I suggest, Carinos, that when we end up led into the "worry ring" of prize fights, our enemy might want to take our dignity, our confidence of who's we are, steal us all that we love and who loves us. We must be ready for the prize fight of our life.

Imagine it. When the next or even current event in our life finds us in worry, step into the fighter's ring boldly and give Satan the fight of his life. All too often we face worry as scared, timid kids praying for a way to make it through the worries. I suggest, instead, we take Satan's worry challenge head on.

Take off the gloves. Shout back at his threats. Stare him down and call off, "You want to throw down with me? Satan, you no power over me. I have a powerhouse team behind me. I have Jesus, risen from the dead. I have his blessed mother. I have creator of all the universe. I have all St. Michael's warriors on my side. I have the communion of saints who endured persecution for the faith on my side. My God is a miracle worker. He is Lord of Lord. King of Kings. Prince of Peace. He can bring down the power of flames of fire in His spirit." My God is an Awesome God.

Stare down your worries, your fears, all your anxieties. God knows it all anyway. He is your daddy. He will only give you good things. Satan takes us to the bad.

In Matthew 28, it ends with Jesus making a promise. Take this one to the bank, Carinos, "I will be with you always until the end of time." There you have it. A Jesus promise. He is with us. Always. When I/we are lost, He is with us. When life is filled with joy, He is with us. When life is filled with worry and fear, He is with us. He said it. Always.

Satan has NO power over Him. Jesus' promise is true. He's right with us. Tell Jesus, "Let's take care of this liar." Satan will flee. Guaranteed.

Recall that after each temptation, Jesus used scripture to combat Satan's challenges. If Satan has the audacity to tempt Jesus, son of God, would you not think he would not also try to tempt us?

Three times Satan tempts Jesus. Three times Jesus used the promises of scripture as to shield himself of the evil. After the third attempt, scriptures say that "Satan left Jesus, for a while, and God sent His angels to minister to him." He'll do that for us too.

Let's do the same in the combat against Satan's lure to worry. Be Rocky Balboa ready to fight the fight. If we end up in the "Worry Ring" then let's give Satan a new fight of his life. We need not be timid. Let's be bold. He's nothing. He's a bully. He wants to steal from us. He fights dirty. He deserves no dignity. He's a snake. We can't let him diminish all the belief we have in God's promises. He's nothing. NOTHING! NOTHING! All we have to lose is our worry and fears.

Let's fight back. Fight fierce and courageously. We have God's word of promise and power over Satan.

Let's not surrender our precious peace when led into the "WORRY RING." A crown of His glory awaits us.

Peace. Precious peace, Carinos

Upcoming:
Astorga, 20 K away
two strong 100 m climbs in early a.m.

Carinosamente,

Deacon Willie