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