13 May 2013

Vergen of the Camino
just west of Leon

A Perfect Day

Not to be misleading, the day wasn't perfect. But the message is. I was able to get only 2-3 hours sleep due to one character in the albergue who made it so difficult for the 52 who were sharing the large room with him. This was another lesson in 'temperance' that I wrote about many days ago.

In addition, it was a hard 27km walk today. The morning started off a delight. A slight breeze and cool temps. We spent the day walking into the outskirts of Leon's industrial parks, then into Leon. Our goal was to get to the Cathedral. To get there one must snake through what some might call 'quaint' little streets that followed a corkscrew pattern. Times I felt like a rat in a maze. By this time the sun was beating down. It reached 80 degrees. This I am unaccustomed.

I must say, the Cathedral of Santa Maria in Leon is stunning. It is gothic in design and resembles Notre Dame in Paris. I can attest to this. I had a short stop in Paris and even got to attend mass there. It pulses with spirituality and history. Leon had much the same feel.

What is most amazing at the cathedral is the stain glass windows and intricate stone carvings that extend to high arches. These are 30-40 feet in the air and men who worked on these must have spent their lifetime in just one corner of it. No exaggeration there. The entire church structure probably took 100 years to complete.

Eric and I went to pay the ticket admission and learned that it was 10 min from siesta time. The cathedral would close. We'd have to come back 3 hrs later. What we did see was breath-taking. I did get a few photos.

We left to discuss plans and decided to leave the roar of the big city and head off to the next albergue. It pained me to keep walking in the heat when I was so depleted from the frustrating night of nonsleep. Off we went the additional 8k to where we are now. I pray for a good night's sleep. Amazing how much more difficult the day is without deep rest.

Forgive a bit of a backtrack here. On a delightful part of the morning I ended up walking with Mairi, a lady from Glasgow, Scotland who is traveling with a lady friend of hers from London. It was so entertaining to hear Spanish attempted in the Scottish brough.

We both hit a fast pace and walked together for a good bit. She shared with me that she had walked the camino 3 years ago with her husband who actually died at the albergue in Rabie. It was a painful story she shared. I read that, on the average, 3 people a year die on the camino. Never thought I'd actually talk to a personal account of one.

As she shared her story with me, she made a mention that it just so happened that this albergue were he died was one that had only 8 beds and the couple who ran it, do so as a way to dedicate their lives to pilgrims. She shared that she committed to walking the camino starting at the albergue where her husband died so that she could personally thank the couple for the compassionate and loving way they handled such a difficult moment. She's choking up and I'm besides myself with such a grief-filled, surprising story.

She shared that the couple would send little notes of comfort to her on occasion. They created a plaque for her husband to honor him at that albergue. ( Surprising as it may seem, there are many little monuments on the camino done in white marble with the name of a loved one who passed away at that spot on the camino). This kind couple were so generous in kindness and compassion, even during the past 3 years, Mairi said, "I thought, there is not a day I don't remember my husband, but never could he have passed in a more loving place. I thought of the couple often and was so thankful for them, I could only offer my thanks in prayer.

We got separated by some distractions, and I was left to my private prayer time. I was led to remember something I once heard that connected strongly. It was at a Feed My Starving Children fund raising banquet. The keynote speaker made this comment: " A perfect day is when you've done something for someone whom you can not hear them say thank you." You know, in your heart, that the deed went to someone in need, in pain, in loneliness, in sympathy, but they were unable or too distraught to react. No need. The deed made it a "perfect day" for someone.

I met up with Mairi later and shared my blog and asked her permission to share some of her story. She heartedly agreed. She said, "That message is ideal for the albergue couple. They have made many perfect days for me and my family during these years after the tragedy."

I found the reflection of "a perfect day" especially endearing. In my line of ministry, there are so many wounded souls needing a healing word, a conversation that demonstrates someone really cares about their struggles, someone to get in the trench and dig with them. Someone to love them, just as they are.

That's all fine. But to do the surprising kind deed done without chance of thanks or repayment speaks of deep love and humility. No one knows, except the wounded. This might sound strange, but we can be the private answer, God's messenger that He knows, cares, and has heard their prayer and sent ME/YOU. We're part of the His answer. That really is awesome.

They pray, God hears, and we're an instrument He uses to answer the prayer. And done privately, we help make it "A Perfect Day."

So many days on the camino I've had to shout out a call for God to help me. Today was one of them. Then suddenly a new breath fills me and I can go on. A surprising breeze gave me some desperately needed comfort. The albergue has a bed, and if specially blessed, a bottom bunk.

All these things occur and I think: Someone is praying for me. I don't know who. I can't thank them. But they helped give me a "perfect day."

Jesus said, "Be perfect. Just as your Heavenly Father is perfect." I used to think, OK, you made me human with imperfections. How can I be perfect like you?

I later learned that some scripture commentaries point out that perfect in not to do with human behavior. God is perfect in two ways: Love and mercy. Some claim the bible can be distilled into just those two words. The entire book contains stories and messages to illustrate the many times and examples of God's love and mercy.

I/We can make a 'perfect' day by some deed done for someone who can not thank us. Someone is such need. Someone who needs love and mercy.

Someone who is starved for a "Perfect Day."

Thank you for the many prayers that has made 'perfect' my camino.

I pray my prayers will somehow give you a 'perfect day.'

Let's go make perfect days for some unexpected souls.

Upcoming:
Heading toward Astoria

Carinosamente,

Deacon Willie

12 May 2013

Mansilla de las Mulas
just east of Leon
450km on Camino thus far

Things Mary NEVER said

Buen Camino

We walked another 27k today along a straight, level gravely trail. They call this the Senda, but it could have been called the long, lonely road. Unlike most of the camino, this stretch offers little landscape change. One can see literally for 10km without obstruction. However, I tend to walk head down lost in prayer and thought. I have to make myself get out of a prayer trance and look up. The heavy clouded sky started to break late morning and to the right, that would be north, we were rewarded with a view of the foothills and farther back in the distance, the snow capped peaks of the mts. OMG, gorgeous. Don't think my photo could give it justice.

As I plodded on, I contemplated that today is Mother's Day. It sure made me miss my sweetie and the chance to celebrate her well-deserved day. My kids will fill her day, I'm confident.

Along 'the way' I got caught up in a meditation inspired by Mother's Day. It was of two great mothers of faith: Mary and Elizabeth. The story in Luke 1 was the scripture centerpiece. I think God just wanted to play with me today. He allowed me some entertaining imaginations regarding these Mothers raising their powerful sons of faith.

It behooves me to emphasize, before I lay out my thoughts, that these are my imaginations born of a meditation. They are not teachings of the church, doctrine, sacred literature. They are just my IMAGINATIONS. Got it.

I got to contemplating Mary's visit in Judah to her cousin Elizabeth. It, of course, makes sense that Elizabeth was older, wiser, and further along in the pregnancy. It must have given Mary comfort and some confidence spending that time with her.

Here's where my meditation ran off. I thought, the scriptures make no mention of Mary and Elizabeth being together again. This intrigued me. Without scripture certainty, I got to imagining that if Elizabeth was a valuable mentor before the birth, she would be valuable even after their giving birth. Why would they have not visited on occasion while raising those boys? Wouldn't family stay connected at least some times? And, when they did, what it must have been like for Jesus and John to be together. Slow down and think of that. Jesus, son of God and John, the Baptist. That is, as little boys, playing little boy games, having little boy conversations. It was a fun imagination for me. Play with it yourself.

I got to imagining, in my mind's eye, Mary and Elizabeth, perhaps sitting together and enjoying stories and updates. Jesus and John would be somewhere playing. Just normal moms, normal boy fun, normal family.

Playfully, I got to considering things Mary NEV ER had to say to Jesus. Try these out. Things NEVER said:
Give your Aunt Elizabeth/Uncle Zachariah a hug
You boys play nice.
Jesus, share your toys with John
Tell him your sorry
Don't forget to pray before your meal
Did you say your bedtime prayers?
Why do you boys keep shouting, "Brood of vipers?"
You boys get out of that river. And quit trying to drown Jesus!

Just fun imaginations. You could add a few, I'm sure.

Then I got to contemplating the fact that Elizabeth and Zachariah were, as scripture states, "advanced in age." They were elderly, new parents.

Knowing that Jesus spent 30 years in private life before ministry, that would add years on Elizabeth and Zachariah. I imagined that there is a 'likelihood' that they died prior to Jesus' start of ministry. I imagined that Mary would have gone to comfort Elizabeth when her husband died. She would have brought her son. This would have given her the occasion to demonstrate how to love a widow. How to comfort the heartbreak of loss John must have felt losing a parent. Who knows. They were advanced in age. He might have been an orphan early on.

I got to imagining how Jesus would have experienced, first hand, what it really means to comfort the "widow and orphan." It was no wonder why Jesus mentioned strongly a care for widows and orphans in the scripture. My imagination led me to consider how he witnessed how his mother might have taught him compassion in such a situation. How much her dear heart influenced her son.

I know this is going to sound funny, but I got to considering that Jesus might have been both a momma's boy, and, at the same time, a man's man. Might be why he's so endearing to all.

Truth be told, I was always a momma's boy. I adored my little Italian mom. Thoughts of her flooded me today in appreciation for not just who she was, but who I've become because of her character, her faith, and her dedicated love for me.

One of my favorite books, favorite, is called, "For One More Day, by Mitch Albom. He wrote Tuesday's with Morrie and Five People You Meet in Heaven. I think the first listed is my all time favorite.

He describes a situation in which a young man is allowed to go back in time and witness his life again as a young boy living with his mother. Chapters are arranged by an event he cherished and wished to repeat. Another chapter displayed an event in which he so deeply regretted and wished he could 'redo' if given but "One More Day."

You can read the book. It's a tear jerker. Well, I also considered one event in my childhood I'd cherish going back to in time.

While I was a young boy at St Barbara's Catholic School, I reached an age when it was time to do my first book report of my first longer chapter book. At that age, I hated to read. ( LOVE to read now.) Of course, I waited until the weekend before the report was due on Monday. There it sat, "St. Joseph's Little Church." Never, never forget the sight of the cover. That was my book. Hardly any of it read and I was lost 'like a ball in tall weeds.'

I vividly recall sitting in the living room all Sat and Sun with my mom. We sat by that old, course-haired, bristly fabric sofa. I would sit on the floor, back against that itchy sofa, and mom would read with me-St Joseph's Little Church. It was a small book, probably the smallest I could check out, but she would patiently stay with me. I'd read, slowly I mention, and she'd ask, " What did that mean?" Then she say, "Write it down." As I recall the details, I remember that I just learned cursive writing and the good sisters INSISTED on perfectly formed letters. OMG how patient Mom must have been to sit through that laborious task of my slow reading and then slower letter writing. Thinking about it sounds excruciating.

If I had, "Just One More Day," I'd go back and try to express how much her sacrificial love meant to me. She believed in me. She adored me/ as she adored all her kids. She gave it her all to be a good mom. She succeeded exceedingly.

So easy to connect that story to memories of my dear wife. She is more than a lady of grace and faith, more than just a servant's heart, more than a treasure as a wife, more than just a great mom.

She is the humble canvass for all her family to display their talents and gifts. She is the cheerleader for their accomplishments. She is fighter for their salvation. She champion for their dreams.

She is a wounded mother made stronger, more noble in faith and love.

She stands proudly with so many mothers who rightfully enjoy a day of special expressions of love and admiration.

The day's not over. Here's your chance to have "One More Day" with Mom. Make it a lifetime memory.

Be blessed.

Carinosamente,

Deacon Willie

Upcoming:
Leon, includes a 100m gentle climb

11 May 2013

Bercianos del real Camino

Grudge cleaning

This 25k walk was on an absolutely spectacular spring day on the camino. The sky was a gorgeous blue with clouds that shouted out for guesses of what image they were. I walked alone because when we arrived at the albergue yesterday, they had only one bed left. The good bishop and Joyce insisted that I take it. They ended up another 3.3km further. Poor souls after a 30+k day.

I walked along on this really gorgeous day on a gravely path, slight hills, and mostly level walking. Nothing big came to mind for most of the day. I was enjoying a great walk with God all morning. Just He and I chatting away like magpies. This went on for hours before I was invited to what I would call, 'Jesus school' initiated after hearing one of my new favorite songs: Matthew West, "Forgiven."

A Forethought: The camino has a unique ability of emptying one. At times I think about why it's such a powerful spiritual experience. I'm beginning to think that the camino doesn't put the spirit in one, it unburdens one to recognize the beautiful spirit tabernacled within our heart. It takes so much effort and desire to quiet all the noise around and clear my mind of so many distractions in order to get glimpses of that which is already inside.

Maybe 14k into what was a delicious spring walk, I felt the nudge to enter into a lesson in response to the song I mentioned above. If Jesus would have used a white board to write the day's lesson message, it would have been: Grudge Cleaning.

The topic of forgiveness in relationship with God has been strongly attentive to me lately. I think this might be so because so many talk to me about hurts and heartaches.
in their life because of forgiveness issues. That thinking, in itself, is one level. It wasn't what Jesus wanted me to learn about today. It was, instead, what to do after an offense, that is, in the later encounters and interactions with the offender. The places where grudges grow like mold and mildew.

I'd like to share that I really have worked to learn and practice forgiveness as part of a desire to grow spiritually. Now some of the ugly honest side of DW: I saw in this reflection on my efforts to forgive, but not on how to avoid the grudge toward the offender.

I thought I was moving forward by continuing to maintain a relationship with the offender. However, what I saw in class today was the stench of little grudges I held long after the event. I recognized ways I spoke to this person, how I withheld being open to them again, how I privately rehearsed and rehearsed and rehearsed what was said/done-just to reassure myself that that person was NOT to be trusted again. In some ways, I was righting them off as any possible future good friend. At best, I passed judgment on them as one "not to be trusted again."

Pretty ugly picture, heh. I sat there, in my mind's eye of the Jesus classroom, recalling past offenses that I believed I forgave, but still held some sort of grudge. Not a pretty picture, I admit.

Ok, what do you want me to do with that, Lord? I tried the "I'm only human excuse." I tried the "Give me a break, I'm trying my best. " I even tried the "Forgiven, but not forgotten excuse."

I kept asking Him, " So how do I clean up old grudges?"

Nothing came to me, only a long walking stretch of really bright,sunny sky. This bore down on me for a few km in silence with Him. That's when the coincidence came to me.

Put the grudge in the light. This is how I understood the lesson.

A grudge lives in shadows of our relationship with an offender. It lurks behind, shouting silently whenever we're with the offender, " REMEMBER WHEN HE/SHE SAID THAT MEAN THING TO YOU. WHEN HE/SHE HURT YOU. BE ON GUARD. PUT THE LOVE LIMITS ON THIS ONE."

I have known and talked to others with grudge management issues who won't even go that far. "I'm done with him/her. or I don't talk to him/her." Grudges gone wild.

Grudges, viewed in the light, helps me validate that there was an offense. It wasn't something imagined. A grudge, seen in the light, get's it out of my head. Now it's outside of me. I can see it as just excess, smelly baggage. Why would I want to carry that hurt along with me any longer? Why do I want to replay all that junk, " He/she said this. I thought 'this' and then he/she did 'this' that really made me mad." On and on it played in my head. It is all that worthless junk carried in my head for days and days and, in some cases, longer. Satan loves this thinking, I'm sure.

Putting it in the light, let's me see the event with the offender as an opportunity for rising above it all. To be the bigger person. To freely give him/her a second chance. To be, well, more like Jesus.

Walking in the powerful sunlight today put this matter in a new 'light' for me too. I started to recall events and offenses when I have caused hardship with others long ago. Some of those memories I was pretty ashamed of. Recalling them made me want to catch up with those of my past and say, "Hey, I'm a different man today. I don't talk that way anymore. I don't do those hurtful things anymore." What I really wanted, more than anything, is to ask, "Would you give me a second chance?"

So ugly to say. My grudge-bearing prevented second chances for others. So many of us are improved people stuck in a bad memory and trapped in another's grudge. How sad. The me I 'was' is no longer the me I 'am' today. All part of the dirty business of a grudge held.

A little longer in this sun-born realization and I was led to consider how grudge-free Jesus is with me. I can bring Him my dirty, stinking same sins over and over, year after year, broken promise after broken promise and He NEVER holds a grudge. And NEVER a "You're forgiven, yes, but....." It's always a new slate. Made clean.

Scripture says, "As far as the east is from the west, so are your sins."

It was a beautiful classroom lesson today basking in the light of Jesus' calling me to be more like Him. And I became aware today of how much more 'grudge cleaning' I need to do.

'Son light' cleans most anything or anyone. Hope the lesson I received today might 'lighten' your load.

Carinosamente,

Deacon Willie

10 May 2013

Terradillos de Temlarios, just outside of Sahagun
Sahagun is the official halfway city to Santiago

Soul Music

Buen Camino

Today was a 30km+ walk. We intended to walk a longer one today, but an inviting side trip through the countryside led us down a long path with all kinds of possibilities of getting lost. No yellow arrow signs anywhere. We abandoned the adventure and backtracked which added several kms.

The trail today was level and easy travel. A simple, gravel, bike tail-type walk with an erie feel of traveling to Champain-Urbana. Nothing but flat farm fields everywhere. One could strain out in the distance and see a snowy mt peak poke up. It was very peaceful and inviting for and inward journey, for which I so definitely was.

First, a little background. I am so aware of so, so many family and friends who support me on this pilgrimage. I fear someone might be slighted by highlighting one over another. But for today's reflection, it behooves me to drawn attention to one gift-giver in particular. It was my very special friend, Dave Womac. For those who don't know him, he has a profound humility and an immense compassion for service. Nonetheless, he initiated a solicitation of anyone from church who would like to offer a digital copy of a spiritual/inspirational song for me to listen to while walking the camino. I have just now started to find a spot on the camino where I could listen to this overwhelmingly beautiful playlist. So much love in each song selection.

One in particular, God used to bless me today. An additional short intro. will help to clarify.

One thing da Mayor and I committed to, as parents, while raising the kids was that they would be required to learn to play the piano. Someone once said that "it puts music into your soul." The jury is still out as to whether we enriched or punished them with all that practice.

Each of children submitted, and they can all play, even today. How wonderful. Tony, in particular, found his gift in music. As an adult he could compose while he was playing. His mom and I would sit in arm chairs in the living room listening to him play on and on and on. We'd ask him, " What was the name of that one?" He'd respond, "I don't know. I made it up as I went." I know, Dad bragging, but, truthfully, he could effortlessly play for 45+ minutes with a melody that drifted from dramatic to a feel of gentle rain falling to a peace-filled relaxation. To say that he had a gift is an understatement.

When he passed away, the music died. The little, baby grand in our home does nothing but collect dust. All the music is piled up around the bench, and his music went silent.

Until today. One of the songs donated by the efforts of my friend, Dave, was by Philip Chapman, Keeper of Dreams, called Wisdom. The songs on that playlist, the melody, the deeply instilled emotion in that music, brought me back to the armchair concert of my sorely missed son. I was at one of his concerts again. This is the kind of music he would play for us. Of course, he played many others. But this was the genre of what he could compose while he played.

Praise God, today, his music was reborn in my soul. The silence I have had imprisoned caught a full wind of sail and filled me. The emptiness of his songs was consumed by this wonderful, wonderful 'soul music.'

This energized some deep emotion within me. I walked the camino crying uncontrollably as I took on a breath I haven't felt for 53 months. My glasses fogged, my breathing was like a whimpering baby, and my heart overflowing. It was all so life-giving and long overdue for healing.

Not to over think this experience, I wondered how this personal experience could help others. This thought surfaced: Everyone has their own special song. Call it the Song of their Soul. Admit it. Some melody, some particular words to a song are endearing to you. The song is a reflection of something you find dear deep within, dare I say, 'your soul.'

This led me to think. If the path 'to' the soul of a person is through their song. Then, the path back to a person is 'from' their song.

For me, I reentered our son's beautiful soul, through the melody of music he would play. The music carried his soul back to his dad's heart.

Here's a suggestion: Consider someone whom you love who has passed. Recollect what their favorite song was. I'm suggesting that if you were to listen to that song intently and repeatedly, I mean, really study it for why/what your loved one might have deeply connected within it, you'd re experience his/her soul again through their 'soul' music.

Memories of loved ones fade all to quickly. Items left behind help, somewhat. I found a deeper connection today in my son's music.

Heart-hungry for a connection with a loved-one who has passed? Grab a box of kleenex and their soul music favorite. It was life-giving for me. I pray it will be for you.

And, if you haven't made a final choice of a soul music favorite, choose one soon and share it with a loved one. If their ears can stand it, sing it to them and tell them why you chose it. On my short list is the song from our wedding, "What the World Need Now, Is Love Sweet Love."

I left today's insight gifts with some of Tony's favorites:
What's Goin' On and
Piano Man

His soul music filled an empty part of my soul.

Upcoming:
Sahagun and beyond?

Sinus infection is back, ah
Knees and feet managing- Praise God

Carionsamente,

Deacon Willie

9 May 2013

Carrion de las Condes
20k

Uncomfortable

Buen Camino

We left our wonderful albergue early this morning for what we thought would be a simple descent through more meseta. It started out in a heavy mist, turned to heavy, cold drizzle, then spent the day as a long, cold, steady rain. There were no places open for a stop for coffee or even to sit for a rest. We had to hoof it nonstop all 20k to the town.

I was accustom to the distance, but it was a challenge to walk that nonstop in such rain. I found myself doing some self talk to move ahead. I kept saying,"Just one more step. Just one more step. One more. One more."

I arrived at the town well before the good bishop and Joyce. Waited an hour in the rain for them under the first canopy available. No luck. On I went to where I remember there was a convent of nuns who run an albergue. Luck had it this is where I landed. Minutes later, Eric and Joyce arrived. This place has a great reputation because the nuns, in their habits, are particularly kind, AND they do a singing performance for the pilgrims. It was grt fun.

As I talked myself forward today, the "one more step" idea intrigued me. I kept rethinking it. "That's what it takes to grow faith. Just taking, "one more step." To go beyond what's comfortable, what I'm certain I can do, what I've agreed I could do and should do. No. To step beyond what's comfortable. If I only do what is in my abilities and comforts, what do I need God for? Then I'm playing God.

Just one more step. One more. One more. One more.

It's that easy, and it's that rewarding. One more step closer to peace. One more step closer to His purpose. One more step for His glory.

I've had good conversations as spiritual director and in counsel with some who are not sure if they can or are ready to embrace a bigger belief in God. "I don't know if I'm ready. Don't know if I'm ready to give up what I really like to do. I'm still young. Maybe when I'm older. I don't want to be like "him" or "her" if that's what following God is all about. Or, the ugly: I don't like 'this' or 'that' about the church or what it stands for.

Some have said, "I just don't 'feel' it.

For all who have mind wrestled some of these thoughts, I'd suggest these thoughts given to me today.
1. Don't try to take it all in at once. So many of the "I don't knows" are part of any relationship. We don't need to know all about God to enjoy a bigger embrace with God. We're still his kids, yes. Kids learn about their parents love over a lifetime. Give it time.
2. I've heard some who are attentive to not "feeling" the faith. Some are concerned that they'd be acting like a hypocrite. Better to hide in doubt in faith than to be discovered as a cheat or imposter. This is logical, but leaves one empty. It is like having one foot in two different canoes. Indecision is a decision without rewards.

I'd suggest acting on the faith that you do have. However, take just "one more step" into the uncomfortable. You'll be surprised. One more step will open up more faith, and you'll be surprised. The feelings will come. Much later in faith, you'll realize that feelings are not needed at all. Just Him.

For those open for a challenge and treat, I listened to Rich Mullin's song, "Sometimes, step by step." I had to listen to it twice to let it penetrate. I walked along in rain and dreary weather on a level gravel path with my arms outstretched, raised to heaven, singing my lungs out to God. Try it. It is a glorious prayer time. However, pick a sunny day.

Carinos, my insight today was this: it's never uncomfortable if it's "just one more step"closer to Him.

Upcoming:
28K walk on level elevation
So grateful for the sinus infection relief. Prayers work.

Carinosamente,

Deacon Willie

9 May 2013

Carrion de las Condes
20k

Uncomfortable

Buen Camino

We left our wonderful albergue early this morning for what we thought would be a simple descent through more meseta. It started out in a heavy mist, turned to heavy, cold drizzle, then spent the day as a long, cold, steady rain. There were no places open for a stop for coffee or even to sit for a rest. We had to hoof it nonstop all 20k to the town.

I was accustom to the distance, but it was a challenge to walk that nonstop in such rain. I found myself doing some self talk to move ahead. I kept saying,"Just one more step. Just one more step. One more. One more."

I arrived at the town well before the good bishop and Joyce. Waited an hour in the rain for them under the first canopy available. No luck. On I went to where I remember there was a convent of nuns who run an albergue. Luck had it this is where I landed. Minutes later, Eric and Joyce arrived. This place has a great reputation because the nuns, in their habits, are particularly kind, AND they do a singing performance for the pilgrims. It was grt fun.

As I talked myself forward today, the "one more step" idea intrigued me. I kept rethinking it. "That's what it takes to grow faith. Just taking, "one more step." To go beyond what's comfortable, what I'm certain I can do, what I've agreed I could do and should do. No. To step beyond what's comfortable. If I only do what is in my abilities and comforts, what do I need God for? Then I'm playing God.

Just one more step. One more. One more. One more.

It's that easy, and it's that rewarding. One more step closer to peace. One more step closer to His purpose. One more step for His glory.

I've had good conversations as spiritual director and in counsel with some who are not sure if they can or are ready to embrace a bigger belief in God. "I don't know if I'm ready. Don't know if I'm ready to give up what I really like to do. I'm still young. Maybe when I'm older. I don't want to be like "him" or "her" if that's what following God is all about. Or, the ugly: I don't like 'this' or 'that' about the church or what it stands for.

Some have said, "I just don't 'feel' it.

For all who have mind wrestled some of these thoughts, I'd suggest these thoughts given to me today.
1. Don't try to take it all in at once. So many of the "I don't knows" are part of any relationship. We don't need to know all about God to enjoy a bigger embrace with God. We're still his kids, yes. Kids learn about their parents love over a lifetime. Give it time.
2. I've heard some who are attentive to not "feeling" the faith. Some are concerned that they'd be acting like a hypocrite. Better to hide in doubt in faith than to be discovered as a cheat or imposter. This is logical, but leaves one empty. It is like having one foot in two different canoes. Indecision is a decision without rewards.

I'd suggest acting on the faith that you do have. However, take just "one more step" into the uncomfortable. You'll be surprised. One more step will open up more faith, and you'll be surprised. The feelings will come. Much later in faith, you'll realize that feelings are not needed at all. Just Him.

For those open for a challenge and treat, I listened to Rich Mullin's song, "Sometimes, step by step." I had to listen to it twice to let it penetrate. I walked along in rain and dreary weather on a level gravel path with my arms outstretched, raised to heaven, singing my lungs out to God. Try it. It is a glorious prayer time. However, pick a sunny day.

Carinos, my insight today was this: it's never uncomfortable if it's "just one more step"closer to Him.

Upcoming:
28K walk on level elevation
So grateful for the sinus infection relief. Prayers work.

Carinosamente,

Deacon Willie

8 May 2013

Fomista, 25k walk

His Steady Hand

Buen Camino

We left today into a steady drizzle for the first km. This led us to a strong ascent up to the Mesata again. It was a breath-stealer of 100+m within 2km. The reward at the top was wonderful, especially because it was the reward of a long walk on the level, wide expanse of the Meseta. How I enjoy the walk along gently rolling hills with relatively even terrain. This part was covered in a gravely trail, much easier walking and less concern about footing and falling. However, once we reached the top of the summit, we headed into a strong, cold windy mist for about 7km. So unpleasant and a strain with this persistent sinus infection.

Enough of that.

A recollection was presented to me that played like that song one hears in the morning and you just can't get it out of your head. The kind that keeps repeating and repeating.

This was mine. It was a strong memory of when I was a little boy, about 2nd grade. I had just gotten out of recovery from an appendicitis that had burst. It was painful, and I remember that it took a long time to get the infection to be arrested. The reward my parents offered for my efforts to get well was a new bike. Yep, my first real bike.

It was late spring, and Dad took me down to a local bike store and told me to pick out ANY bike I wanted. I chose a candy-apple red Schwinn with polished chrome fenders and plastic streamers coming off the backs of the handlebar grips. Later my friends and I would destroy invaluable baseball cards by clothespinning the card from the frame to the spokes. Poor Lou Gerig.

My challenge was that I didn't know how to ride yet. My friends learned while I was recovering, and I was not the free spirit terror they had become as experienced bike riders.

I started with the training wheels. This was only a teaser to what thrill would be in store if I could only learn to ride myself.

This was the old, childhood movie played so vivid in my head today: it was of my dad helping me learn to ride a bike. He would put a hand on the back of the seat, wrap around my back, and place the other hand on my hand-both of us gripping the handle bar.

He would run alongside while I tried with all my will to keep the whole process working simultaneously. Watch the front wheel, keep the pedals going front to back, watch where I was going, move the handlebars in the right direction. All so many things to coordinate. All along, Dad was racing alongside.

I know this sounds weird, but for a time today I could swear I could remember the details so vividly I could recall the feel of his arm up my back, I could feel his stubbly bearded chin on the back of my neck and even the smell of his Old Spice after shave lotion. What a precious memory.

As the memory continued, I recall catching some speed and that devilish front wheel doing it's unpredictable, uncontrollable zigzag wobble. Turn one way, then too much, then the other, too much. Back and forth. Eyes bugged out, goosebumpy and scared. I'm gonna fall. Pain coming. "Daddy help meeeeeeeeee!

I recall a little chuckle and an "I got ya. I got ya." There his hand would be on the back of my seat and his arm drapped around with his other hand now clasped on my hand on the handlebar. Funny, as I recalled the story I could swear that I saw his black dress shoes clomping along just behind me all the while I pedaled along.

A few attempts and off I finally went pedaling like an Olympian and shouting, " Look mom! I'm riding. I'm riding!!!!"

Funny, either they told me and I was too intent on all the riding instructions, I soon discovered that I was clueless about how to stop this sporty Schwin beauty. I thought it was revealing how just when you think you get life rolling, and you're consumed in the joy of it all, you can't find a way to stop yourself from getting hurt. There's a metaphor in there, friends.

Of course, I fell. Probably skinned a knee. Put right back up for another running exercise for my dad and an illusion of how great I was/ would be as a a free-spirit bike rider.

My reflection led me to another time when I got to relive this same experience as the running dad behind the bike for my 5 children as they learned to ride. Same joy. Dad runs along and your little one assumes he/she did it all himself/herself. Afterwards, they get the glory, encouragement, and affirmation for their courage and new skill. "I did it all by myself!"

You can probably guess where God took me today with this memory. How often I/we have our heavenly dad who places his strong arm to brace us up and another to grasp over our hand to help us steer. In too many events, I get so excited by the new freedom I have felt with new experience, new skill, new talent, new potential with all its new opportunities. I/we don't openly say it, but the tendency is to talk about it as - "Look at me! Look at what I can do! What I know!" Just big kids still shouting "Watch me mom/dad!!!

All the while, if I'm/we're ever so observant, I/we might recognize His shoes running along side. Feel his strength holding us up, His hand firmly planted on our hand while helping us guide in His righteous directions. Not sure what His aftershave would smell like, but if the fragrance had a name I'd guess it'd be MERCY. What a sweet fragrance!

I love, loved the imagery God instilled in me today. I could even relate events in life when I got consumed in the pleasure of life's ride and lost control. It's so easy to do. God's creations are for our pleasure. When I get overly consumed by them, place too much importance on them, or worse yet, begin to let them become centerpieces of too much of my time/attention/desire-then I'm headed for an uncontrollable crash.

Fortunately for us, we share a religion where our God cares for us in a crash. No other religion worships a God of compassion for the sinful. Check it out. None do. None, but our God.

Sadly, there are some broken souls who have not been the source of a crash in life. They've done it right. Done the kind and loving thing ,and they end up in the painful tumble. I feel so deeply for them. It's not fair. It's not right. And it hurts so painfully. I am crying now for these dear ones. You know who you are.

No words of advice can salve the pain for you. All I can say with confidence is to be that little kid scared to death and cry out, "Daddy help meeeeeeee! " Our daddy hears our every cry. He cares deeply for us. He counts our every tear. He loves us. He loves you, precious one. He does. Their is no ache in your heart that He doesn't know. Keep crying out to Him, "Daddy, help meeeee!"

And He will. He will. He will. He will. Grip the handlebars with all your might. His arms are around you.

His steady hand is there.

I will try to stop my crybaby tears now, my carinos.

Upcoming:

Carrion de las Condes
A long, gentle downslope

Please pray that God would have mercy on me for this sinus infection. I drain pounds of infectious junk from my nose all day which makes it such a challenge to walk and climb.

Carinosamente,

Deacon Willie