Well, this might be a different post. It is fair to say that everyone has their share of "stuff" that they deal with. For the most part I choose to be happy. One thing I am certain of in life is that I hold no special wisdom. But, yesterday someone said, "I keep thinking I want to hear “your story”... what you tell people along the way (besides that you know Robert Mark TarBush)!!!" So, I humbly present a "Mom" story:
• The sun promises to be hot today on the Meseta. We get up at 6 a.m. to walk in the darkness--maybe we can avoid the absolute heat of the day. Headlamps dot the path ahead. Many pilgrims have had the same idea. The breeze is still cool but we can feel the dust in every breath. We must climb a 12% incline before we reach the Alto Mostelates. As we crest the peak we turn for one last glance of the valley. In reverence I approach the edge of the path. The sun is rising above the city, above the castle, above the clouds. My young friend from St Jerome Quebec stands with me. My soul is overwhelmed--I begin to sing "The Splendour of the King.....clothed in Majesty.....Let All the Earth Rejoice...." We were on holy ground. Over 40 000 steps today. Many along the banks of the Canal de Castilla. Although the Canal is no longer used the trees it nourishes provided some shade. A wonderful day. You are Always in My Prayers. Love Mom. Dear H.S. Friend, Just hanging around the Canal. Boats don't travel up and down it anymore but there is lots of rushing water. Have you been to the Welland Canal in Ontario? Sincerely, Flat S
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They say the Meseta messes with your mind. Endless plateau for ten days. Today was actually lovely. Just enough ruins and churches to break the monotony of the horizon. A lovely warm breeze and a few clouds to prevent the heat of the direct sun. Oh, and of course a few lovely bars with coffee and servicios--And my fellow pilgrims:
• Thirty-two beds in the Albergue. Nine are filled with Canadians. "It's Leonard Cohen's birthday", someone says. "He would be 83" comes from another corner of the room. "Dance Me to the End of Love....what I would give to hear Dance me to the End of Love", yet another Canadian pipes up. Of course, Dad has it on his phone. As Cohen belts out the poetic lyrics not a single one of us speaks. We are all transported to a time when both L.C. and ourselves were much younger. Great Canadian Moment?--I think so! Blessed by Cohen's "singing"?--another Camino miracle😄 • Quietly spreading some unidentifiable jam on my morning toast while I practice being thankful for toast. "Can you hold this sign for a picture", she says. She is from SOUTH Korea--she is very clear about the SOUTH. She wants us to know she is proud of her current government, appreciates peaceful protest, and believes in co-operation between Budists1, Budists2, Catholics, and Christians. "Do we know that South Korea also has a pilgrimage route?", she asks. Chimyeongja means someone who devotes his or her own life in spite of the cost. A pilgrimige to Chimyeongjasan Holy Ground to pray for Korean Catholic martyrs who died for their faith is South Korean Camino of sorts. I am humbled by how little I know of the suffering of others. Thank you. I continue to heal. I showered with a plastic grocery bag on my foot. Quite the sight at the Albergue. I am grateful to be able to keep walking. Another new friend went home yesterday--unable to continue. We are over 300 km now. You are Always in My Prayers. Love Mom. We have entered the Meseta. As far as the Camino Frances is concerned the Meseta is the section on the plateau of Central Spain between Burgos and Astorga. The dreaded Meseta is hot and dry and it is important to carry tons of water. Some Pilgrims skip this section. For us it has been a day of blessing:
• At our morning coffee stop he bumps my chair. I say sorry. "You must be from Canada", he says. "Are those new shoes?" He is from Australia. He is 73 and has hiked most of those years. He has the same soft shoes. He shows me how to tie them properly. He tells me I need to change my socks every 10 km and watch for grit 😄 Later we find shade in a rare grove of trees. We have bread and fruit. He and his wife share cream cheese, tomatoes, and olives. It is a feast. They are a blessing in our lives today. • On the dusty road just outside of Burgos we enter a small church. It is dim--soft music is playing. Two sisters wait inside. One takes my hands. Although I do not understand every word I know I am receiving a blessing. She slips a small medallion with Mary over my head--for my travels. The other, well over 85, offers to stamp my credential...she also takes my hands...blesses me and smiles. I am feeling valued. As I leave the younger sister whispers, in English, "We are on Facebook!" • We arrive at our small Albergue in Hornillos. I sit beside a lady from Nevada. She has enjoyed the heat of the walk. She sees my blisters. "Let me get my brother--he is a Scouter--and a blister expert" He brings his kit. He drains and cleans my blisters and dresses them. I tell him that he is a blessing in my life today. He tells me that when he was walking he knew that today was the day he needed to "wash someone's feet". For my needs this turned out to be more than symbolic. We hug. The soft shoes are working well and so we keep on walking. You Are Always in My Prayers. Love Mom. Dear H.S. Friends, I am on the Meseta and it it hot and dry. It is a Plateau. We drink a lot more water. Can you think of some other smart things we should do when we are walking in the hot sun? Sincerely, Flat L Leaving a two hundred year old Albergue and arriving in city centre Burgos was quite a contrast. There are really few words that could grasp the magnificence of the Cathedral--spires like Familia Sagrada and more side chapels than I have EVER experienced. However, I was definitely also fascinated by the gritty side of the city as we passed under the busy streets of the Burgos Burbs. And, of course the stories of the pilgrims:
• He is from Switzerland. By trade he was a butcher. In 1974 he spent a year in Toronto. His father called him back home to take over the family business. In 2006 he sold the Butcher Shop to his apprentice--his children did not want to carry on the tradition. He wanted to do something different ... meaningful. This is his second Camino. Both times Switzerland to Santiago. He has been on the road since July 9th. His advice on blisters, "Nothing lasts forever--Nothing." • She is from Winnipeg. She was born in Poland. Her father died young. Her insurance firm laid off twenty--she was one. Her mother is worried that she travels alone. "On the Camino you are never alone--lots of mothers", she says. Every day she prays for a different member of her family but some days she says she just needs to pray for herself. She asks me about KW--maybe we will be almost neighbours. Lots of kind wishes with regards to my blisters. I have included a picture for those not squeamish. Nope...nothing on them in the picture...just me....my disgusting feet...and be thankful it is out of focus😄 Took a taxi to a big box sports store today. The shoe-guy basically said "$&@#%" (rough translation from Spanish). He sold me the Camino equivalent to bedroom slippers--soft running shoes. So, sadly my beautiful hiking shoes now hang from my pack. Learning a lot about capacity and endurance. You are Always in My Prayers. Love Mom. Yesterday was spent at a delightful Hermitage in Granon--in fact we had our own Basilica. Today I hit a wall--my body said "I don't want to do this today." We dragged ourselves through seemingly endless ghost towns looking for our morning cafe con leche. I leaned against an abandoned dumpster to drain my blisters. Walk, walk, walk....small sips of water...retching. Walk some more....lie down at the side of the road and try to swallow some food. Walk, walk, walk....and if possible I am making this sound better than it was. 38 194 steps later I am resting up at the Albergue. Your Dad was very patient. His theme song was "Walking on Sunshine" even though it was at a snail's pace. In spite of the pathetic picture I am painting there were blessings in my life today:
• She is German. She walks a little faster than me but with smoke breaks it evens out. We start off together in the morning. We share a headlamp. She says the Camino has taught her that coffee is a girl's best friend NOT diamonds. She has already abandoned one pair of hiking boots. She stays back in Belorado. She encourages me--she does not make my tough day feel like a failure but rather a victory for pressing on. Thank you. • We go off track in Belorado to find a farmacia. Even our GPS can't get us back to the path. She steps out of a salon. She looks far too fine to deal with this struggling pilgrim. Donde esta le Camino? She takes me by the sleeve and walks us to the path. She makes us feel like our journey is important. Thank you. The many caves in the hills were something new to our walk. Always something fascinating to see and a new lesson to learn. Still trying to process today's 😄 You are Always in My Prayers. Love Mom. When morning gilds the skies, My heart awaking cries: May Jesus Christ be praised! Dear H.S. Friends, Hanging out in Santo Domingo today. Legend has it a sheriff was once eating a roast chicken dinner. He told a mother and father that if their son was alive his chicken dinner would come to life. It did. I think the Mom and Dad and the chicken must have danced. Now the town has special chicken cookies. Yum! Sincerely, Flat L Hola! The dust of the now red soil clings to our boots. The temperature has dropped and the workers seem frantic to harvest. We pause to visit the 12th century capital of the kingdom of Navarre--the cave in the Monesterio Santa Marie de la Real. The virgin, the bell, and the lily remind us of the legend that Don Gracia, son of Sancho The Great. He followed his hunting falcon into this very cave and came upon a statue of Madre Maria. We are caught up in the intrigue. • They are from Vancouver, Canada. Last night Dad mentions he misses cereal--his favourite is Cornflakes. This morning they pop their head into our dorm, "Hey, Ray--we have a part bag of cornflakes in our backpack and milk in the fridge--want it?" Your Dad's face lights up. An unexpected blessing. • He runs a family restaurant in Ventosa. Forty pilgrims simultaneously show up to partake in a meal. He rushes from table to table taking orders and shouting back into the kitchen. All is chaos. A young boy rides in on a wooden sword. Clearly it is his trusty steed. Amid the rush our host pauses--kisses his head--and hoists him onto a stool. His son. We all leave satisfied with our meal and in spirit. • Revisit. Our South Korean friend has caught up. She happened into a sketchy hostel and is covered with bed bug bites. Our Albergue is full, but they find her a spot on the floor. Our Camino family offers treatment advice. We are so thankful tonight. For the first time we have cots rather than bunks. Smiles all around. You Are Always in My Prayers. Love Mom. |
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Ray & Diane HomewoodSharing the Blessing of Travel Archives
January 2018
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