25 Prayers of Christmas, Day 9

When you are a kid you will dream up all kinds of ways to get attention.

Any time one of my classmates would show up to school with an injury -- a broken bone, a black eye, stitches -- I can remember wishing it was me. That I was the one with a broken leg, the one who needed someone to carry my books, help me to recess, that I was the one wearing the cast that everyone wanted to sign.

I wasn't going to go out and purposely break my leg, however, so when time passed without any broken bones I had to come up with other ways of getting attention -- talking a lot, getting good grades, flirting with boys.

Fast forward to the year I turned 30 and I find myself with a broken rib and a sprained ankle after a 4-wheeling accident. I wasn't looking for attention at this point, just trying to have a good time with family and friends. But a couple of months after the accident I was still having issues, so I went to the hospital for a full body scan. They told me my rib had healed perfectly, and the lower body pain was not from the accident but due to arthritis, a result of the leg I broke as a child.

"I never broke my leg," I told the technician.

"The scans don't lie," she said.

Funny. All that time I thought my prayers had gone unanswered. But somewhere along the way I had gotten exactly what I'd wished for. I just hadn't looked deep enough to see it.

I wonder how often our prayers get answered and, for whatever reason, we don't realize it. Maybe they don't get answered the way we want them to, or in our timing. Maybe we're too busy to see what God has done and is doing in our lives.

Whatever we are praying for this Christmas -- reconciliation, joy, love, new life, work opportunities, good health -- may we take the time to slow down, to recognize God at work, and to believe that He always answers our prayers.

25 Prayers of Christmas, Day 6

This is the first picture Randy ever took of me. It obviously wasn't intentional. I'm just a speck of green next to the stop sign. We didn't even know each other then. He simply had his camera posed to take a shot and I happened to walk around the corner and right into his view.

Neither of us would have guessed that this moment would change our lives. But here we are, 21 months to the day later. Living happily ever after.

God, we always look for you in the big moments, the grand gestures, the most obvious and astonishing ways. But today I'm reminded that you are working even when we don't see it, in the tiniest moments, on days that seem so completely ordinary.

Sometimes we can look back and pinpoint the beginning of these life altering events, a choice or an encounter that changed the course of our steps. But you were working even before then.

I know some of the work but I can't even imagine all of the work you did in Randy's life to make sure he was there on that street at that exact moment. I know some of the work but can't imagine all of the work you did in my life to make sure I was there too.

My prayer today is particularly for those people who can't see what you are doing, Lord. Who have a hard time imagining their dreams will ever come true. Help them to trust that you are working, in big and small ways, and that your dreams will not only answer, but exceed all of theirs.

25 Prayers of Christmas, Day 5

My computer was out of commission for the last 4 hours. With deadlines looming and a to-do list that all involved being online, this was not part of the plan.

Even after yesterday's prayer to not make mountains out of molehills, this initially seemed like the worst possible thing that could happen.

But then I remembered what it was like working in an office in Indiana during the winter. It seemed like we always lost our electricity at the most inconvenient of times. What do you do in an office without a computer? You clean, you organize, you go out with your girlfriends to get mani-pedis. And somehow, hours or days later when the electricity comes back on, you find yourself more relaxed, more focused, more able to conquer the tasks at hand.

So, instead of stressing away the day, I took the dogs for a walk, made myself a nice lunch, organized the kitchen cabinets, and watched a Hallmark movie. And now I'm coming back to my desk with not only a clean computer, but a mind clear of the clutter and stress that occupied it earlier this morning. And the inspiration for today's blog post. :)

Thank you Jesus for the reminder that every interruption is an opportunity.

#FacebookFail

I started the day with a text message from one of my best friends: "OMG... I just saw Facebook. Are you okay???"

I did a mental check. Wondered if I had posted something the night before when I was tired that could be misconstrued. We had gotten ourselves into a precarious situation the day before when hiking, but I was pretty sure I'd kept that bit of information to myself. Finally I opened Facebook and saw the culprit.

It wasn't something I had posted, but something someone else had posted on my wall. It was the worst of all possible things someone could have posted. And even though I didn't believe it for a second, it still took my breath away:

"Wanted to send support to you over the loss of your mother."

It had been a week since I'd talked to my parents, but there was no possible way I would find out something so devastating as this on Facebook of all places. Yes, my father would be wrecked, but he would still find it in himself to make that horrible phone call.

My gut reaction was to reply to the comment and ask if he'd meant my GRANDmother who passed away in early summer. And then to say that this is how rumors are started and you need to get your facts straight. But that tiny seed of fear had been planted. And I had to call to be sure.

Of course no one answered the home phone. And that tiny seed began to take root. But when I called my mom's cell she picked up right away. "I just called to make sure you are alive," I said. "Yep, I'm alive," she answered cheerfully. And I breathed a sigh of relief.

While my situation turned out to be a misunderstanding, there are people who have learned devastating news about loved ones in equally impersonal and public ways. I didn't confront the person who made this post, knowing that it wasn't malicious, but it did make me pause and think about how we use social media and how we can use it better.

First of all, it would be wise to let the family make the first mention of the loss. Once that person has made the information public, then feel free to offer condolences in the comment section. Second, make sure you have your facts straight, including what this person's relationship was to the deceased. Third, make use of Facebook Messenger to send a private message. If you are making a public statement just so everyone else can see it, then your motives are wrong.

And finally, if you have a way of contacting your friend/loved one outside of social media, do it. One of Randy's best friends from high school passed away this week and he's been on the phone ever since. Not checking Facebook for updates, but making actual phone calls to family and friends. Offering condolences and breaking the news in a more personal way than a text or a post.

Facebook is a wonderful service when it is used to keep in contact with family and friends, but we are responsible for using it wisely.

Attitude is Everything

"Oppression isn’t about what is external to your life;
it’s about how you respond to life." -Marilyn Hickey

In early May, Randy and I were playing a game of UNO in the waiting room, his oldest brother working on his laptop nearby, when the doctor came out and asked us as a family to go somewhere more private. He took us to what I can only think of as the "bad news room". Where he told us that Randy's mom's heart condition was more serious than he previously thought. He said there was nothing he could do. No surgeries. No medications. No restrictions. She should do what she wanted, go where she wanted, live how she wanted in the time she had left. Which he guessed was no more than six months.

We had the terrible responsibility of breaking the news to the rest of the family. And to Mom herself.

But the most incredible thing happened: she didn't believe it. At first I thought she was in denial. Like one of these days it would just all of a sudden hit her, the severity of her health condition. But week after week she showed no signs of slowing down. Perhaps it wasn't denial at all, but stubbornness and a sheer will to live.

In her mind she still has things to live for, and because of that she is determined to live to see them fulfilled.

During our visit to the doctor last week, the same doctor who gave her a less than six-month life expectancy, he said, "There is no medical explanation for how well you are doing right now." She'd just aced her walking test, her oxygen levels holding steady and nearly as high as mine. "Then why am I not sick?" she asked. "Tenacity," he said. There it was again: stubbornness and a sheer will to live.

Maybe a positive, determined attitude isn't enough to keep her going until she is 100. Maybe it isn't enough to heal her damaged heart. But it is more than enough to help her live life to the fullest for as many days as she has left.

I'm so blessed to have this woman in my life, to call her Mom, and to have the example that a positive attitude will serve you well.

All the Bells and Whistles

I've always heard people say that church doesn't need all the bells and whistles, that church shouldn't "entertain" you, and because I've always heard this I've always assumed it was true. That there was nothing more in line with what God wanted for the church than the starkness of a Quaker meetinghouse.

But recently the church we frequent has opened another campus (I think this makes four campuses total), where we've visited the past two Sundays. And I'm beginning to see the bells and whistles in new light.

This week, as I was sitting in an Adirondack chair in "Central Park", enjoying the breakfast I had brought with me (even though they have a full cafe on site) before the first crashing of drums and wailing of guitars signaled that worship was beginning, I became grateful for the "world" that the church had created inside this old furniture warehouse.

Around me people were in conversation, seated in chairs, at cafe tables, or on the "grass". Kids were crawling and climbing on the play set. People were in long lines for coffee and the bathroom. And I thought:

What a beautiful reminder that church isn't confined to the one hour on Sunday that you sit in an uncomfortable chair and listen to someone tell you about Jesus.    

Church is that hour, but it is also the other 167 hours of the week.

It is how you act when you are waiting in line, be it for coffee or the bathroom or to buy a packet of gum in the one line at Walmart that is open and you are stuck standing behind someone who clearly thinks the apocalypse (or the Super Bowl, 4th of July, first of the month, family reunion, etc.) is happening today.

It's how you treat your loved ones behind closed doors.

It is how you act, and how your kids act, when they are at the playground.

It is in your willingness to serve others and how you treat those who serve you.

It is how you behave at work and on your lunch break and while stuck in rush hour traffic on the way home (which is pretty equivalent to trying to get out of a parking lot when church lets out).

I love the church that we attend. I love the Bible-based teaching. I love the rock and roll worship. I love that the building is open all week, so people can play and eat and worship and experience more of Jesus daily. I love that the atmosphere reminds me that "service" is not limited to one hour on Sunday morning.

A Revolutionary Discovery

Rand and I have made a revolutionary discovery: we are tired at night.

Not revolutionary? You are tired at night too?

Then why, when we want to spend "quality time" with our loved ones, do we schedule it at night? If this is the relationship that is supposed to get the "best" of us, why don't we give it the time when we are at our best?

Which is why we went to breakfast yesterday.

And roller skating on the morning of his birthday.

And to happy hour and a matinee the week before.

Because we want to serve one another the best we have, which we can't do if we give our best to everything and everyone else and wait until we're tired to make time for one another.

And yes, we do end our morning dates the same way you end your nighttime ones!

"Regular Days"

Randy and I are in Ohio visiting family this week. On Sunday, we started the day at church and ended the day with Family Dinner Night. 

While Tessa was sitting on my lap at church she said, "This reminds me of the regular days." I said, "You mean, the 'good old days'?" And she said, "Yes. I just call it the 'regular' days."

And she is right. It was very reminiscent of the "regular days" before I moved to California. And certainly one of the best parts of the "regular days" was being all together as a family.

In the evening, as Kari was putting the finishing touches on dinner, Kaylee called us all into her room for a magic show. Randy and I, my dad, my aunt, my brother, and a couple of the kids all piled onto Kaylee's bed, prepared to be amazed. She made things appear out of "nowhere", and out from under her hat, and then put on a puppet show. It was fun to watch her use her imagination, even if it isn't her destiny to be a famous magician. 

After dinner the kids usually run off to play while the adults clean up and get a chance for "grown-up" conversation. I was looking forward to this part of the evening. After all, it isn't just the kids who I miss and who miss me. It's also my brother and sister-in-law, my parents, Kari's parents, and my aunt who is soon to be relocating to the area. 

But just as the conversations were beginning, Kaylee appeared and asked me to come to her room. Admittedly I was not excited about another puppet/magic show. So I told her I was going to talk with the adults for awhile. She gave me a disappointed look, then went to find someone else to go to her room with her. But she kept coming back to me, and I kept putting her off. Finally, after seeing that the others she had dragged into her room had emerged again fairly quickly and seemingly unscathed, I relented. 

She invited me to sit on her bed and then went to the bookshelf. Where she sorted through a pile of books until she found the one she was looking for... the daily devotional Bible I had given her for Christmas. 

All along she had wanted me to come to her room so I could read her a Bible story. 

"I can find the shortest one," she said.

"That's okay," I said. "We can read as many stories as you want."

My initial reaction was to feel guilty that I hadn't been more receptive to Kaylee from the beginning. But I couldn't have anticipated that she wanted to read about Jesus rather than pull a rabbit out of her hat. Besides, it is perfectly acceptable to spend time with the adults and let the kids play on their own. So how do we let go of the guilt of saying "no"?

I think the thing I did "right" here is that, once I was with Kaylee, I gave her all of my attention. I let her know that she was important and so were the stories she wanted to read.

Madrid

Reflecting back on our last few days in Spain, I've wondered why I wasn't able to write a final post about our journey. 

Yes, we had a myriad of emotions swirling around us. From exhaustion after our long, final days walk, to exhilaration that we had completed our long awaited Camino, to sadness over leaving this beautiful country, to relief that we didn't have to walk anymore. 

Yes, we had head colds due to the drastic change in weather, from cold, rainy days to overwhelming sun. And body aches due to all the walking and carrying of our packs. 

But more than that, I think it was the overwhelming busy-ness of Madrid that prevented me from being able to go anywhere worthwhile with my thoughts.

Madrid has more street performers than a theme park...

The Plaza Mayor was host to the traditional Easter Sunday drum band...

People watching at its finest...

Shopping is their drug...

The food is all the size of finger sandwiches...

And you get charged based on how many toothpicks are left on your plate.

Don't get me wrong. There were places of beauty. Like the park across the street from our hotel...

And the many museums...

But mostly we felt like Sisyphus, always ending up in the same place, with the same crowds, and never actually getting anywhere.

After weeks of nothing but small town hospitality, wide open spaces and solitude, Madrid simply made us long for the Camino. So much so that Rand even conceded after a few days that maybe, maybe someday we will go back and walk the final stretch (approx. 90 km) from Santiago to Finisterre.

And I am reminded, now that we have returned home, that it is more important than ever to make space and time in the midst of our crowded, busy lives to breathe, to think, to pray, to write, to smile, to love, to serve.

Thank you once again for walking with us! Good journey... Buen Camino!

A Day in Santiago

At 8 a.m. the streets of Santiago started to come to life. We were still resting in our storefront when the pilgrim’s office opened. We packed up our belongings and went to receive our certificates of completion.

“How are you?” one of the women working asked. Weary tears streamed down my face. “Cansada, I think,” she answered her own question. “Tired.”

We were given the clipboards to sign in and were the first to register for the day. Dozens of other names would be signed below ours as pilgrims one by one made their way to Santiago. “Congratulations,” we were told, as official credentials were placed in our hands, with our names written in Latin and the date of our arrival.

I had been here before, 11 months and 1 day ago, to receive my first credential. But this time Rand and I had arrived together. 

And then the massive blow, “There will be no Pilgrim’s Mass today. It is ‘Semana Santa’, Holy Week, so there is no service. But you are welcome to tour the Cathedral.” No Pilgrim’s Mass. No hearing our names being read along with the other names in various languages. No ceremony to neatly tie up our Camino. “Processions?” I asked. Remembering all the “parades” that took place last year in Villfranca del Bierzo. “No,” they said. “Semana Santa.” It was Holy Week, and the Church appeared to be closed.

We went back across the street to a hotel café where we had coffee and toast. Earlier I had asked the young man setting up the outdoor tables if they had any rooms available. He said there might be one, with a single bed, available now. We checked with the hostess and she said it was meant for one person, but that she would show it to us and we could decide. It was only available for one night, though. The rest of the weekend was booked full.

The elevator was not big enough for two people with backpacks, so we left our packs at the desk and rode the elevator while she took the stairs. The room was on the 3^rd floor, with a window that opened to a beautiful view of the rooftops of Santiago, had a full size bed and a private bathroom with a bathtub (rare in Spain!). It was perfect.

“We’ll take it!” we said. It was 9 a.m. and we were ready for bed. She handed us our key, and a booklet filled with all of the Holy Week events. “There is a procession?” I asked. “Maybe four or five of them today,” she said. Redeemed!

At noon I went out to the Cathedral Plaza, which as expected was packed with people and vendors, tourists and pilgrims. I found a quiet cafeteria and had a bowl of “Calda”, Galician broth soup, and bought some cheese and bread to take back to the room. I stopped and bought a few souvenirs, checked the times for the post office and train station ticket office, and went back to the room to join Rand for another nap.

We got up again around 5 p.m. and went out for pizza and gelato. We walked through several of the plazas where people were giving out free hugs, having street fairs, going to church, walking their dogs, and getting ready for another round of Holy Week processions.

We bumped into the large group of pilgrims that we had left at the restaurant where we had dinner the previous evening and exchanged handshakes and cheers. We told them it was nearly 6 a.m. before we saw the Cathedral, but that the night walk had been beautiful. They looked weary, and were still carrying their backpacks as they had not yet found a place to stay for the night. It was another reason to be glad that we had arrived in Santiago so early. We may have gotten the last room in the entire city that was free on Good Friday.

We then went to the post office where weeks ago we had shipped our new coaster set that we'd "won" in Burgos while visiting a fundraiser, and the luggage bags we had used to bring our backpacks on the plane. The “vigilante”, as his name tag described him, and the office worker, told us that the post office was closed until Monday. “It’s Semana Santa,” they said. We were well aware that it was Holy Week. But these two guys were there and our package couldn’t have been that hard to find. Rand and I had a quick conversation about whether we were willing to stay in Santiago until Monday. It would cut it close, but we could still make it to Madrid for our Tuesday morning flight back to the states. “Wait,” the office worker said. The vigilante gave him a dirty look, but he shrugged his shoulders, disappeared for a few minutes, and then came back with our package.

While he was searching, an older couple from New Mexico who we had met on the Camino came in. They told us that they had made reservations at a hotel for the night, but when they hadn’t arrived before 3 p.m. to check in, the hotel had given away their room. “Semana Santa,” was the explanation they were given. Holy Week. “It was a longer walk to get here than we thought,” they said of the last 12.5 kilometers (21.5?!). We agreed.

The postal worker frowned when he came back with our package and saw our friends waiting with us. We thanked him profusely for helping us. “Secret,” the vigilante said to us before we left, and we promised not to tell any more of our friends that the post office was only “sort of closed” for Holy Week.

We ended the evening at the Cathedral where we gave thanks and saw thousands of others doing the same. Pilgrims and tourists hugged the statue of the apostle, visited his tomb, and stood in awe of the swinging incense diffuser.

And we bumped into “our family”! Who we hadn’t seen in over 40 kilometers. “You made it!” we all said. And somehow seeing them here in Santiago on Good Friday seemed like the perfect way to wrap up our Camino.

      

All New Steps!

Day 8 of walking: Las Herrerias to Alto do Poio, 16.9 km

Today is the first day that we have walked all new steps for me. And the first 8 kilometers were straight up a mountain!

I remember taking the taxi on these mountain roads a year ago. I was so envious of the pilgrims in their ponchos, braving the wind and rain as they walked up hill. I would have done anything to have been walking beside them. And today I got my chance!

My body felt great; my heart even better. The view was gorgeous, and I couldn’t think of anywhere in the world I’d rather be.

If I had made this trek last year, I probably wouldn’t have had the same appreciation for it that I had today. I likely wouldn’t have enjoyed the rain, the challenge to my quads and glutes, or the wind in my face. There is beauty in having something taken from you, and then being given another chance.

Once we reached our summit we found the bust of Don Elias Valina Sampedro (1929-1989), the priest who came up with the idea to mark the Camino with yellow flechas (arrows) to guide pilgrims on their way. It’s thanks to him we don’t have to carry a map!

I was feeling so good that I encouraged us to press on to the next town before we stopped. But soon the rain started coming down harder. And the side of the mountain wasn’t there to block the wind. My gloves were soaked through, making my hands even colder by wearing them. We stopped at the next town but the woman at the store told us she wasn’t cooking. We would have to go two more kilometers. She made us a cup of coffee and filled us with chocolates and sent us back out into the wind.

When we arrived in the next town we came first to an Albergue. We stopped but no one was there. We wandered around. It looked really nice. There was a washer and dryer, which we were in need of. But without someone there to greet us, we felt we should move on. We found the local bar and were craving hamburgers and French fries.

A few days ago we met a couple from Germany who said “The Camino Provides” means the Camino will give you what you need, not necessarily what you want.

It proved to be true. The woman at the bar told us the only thing she had for us was soup. Homemade vegetable soup. Hot off the stove. It was exactly what we needed on this cold, wet day!

As we were leaving town, we came across an open barn full of hand-carved walking sticks. Several days ago Rand left his stick outside the place we were staying. We leave our stuff outside and unattended all the time. But this time, it wasn’t there when we left the next morning. We’ve passed a few stores where he could have bought a replacement, but the former one was special and he wanted this one to be too.

There was no one in the barn, but the door was open and a sign said they were made by “Pirri” and were available for 3 euros. We were bummed not to get to meet Pirri, but Rand found one that felt good. We didn’t have any change, but we figured a hand-carved walking stick was worth the 5 euros we left in Pirri’s cash box. The Camino Provides!

Encouraging Pilgrims

I was standing at the back of the plane practicing my Spanish with a man from Argentina when I saw a man take my seat to talk to Rand. They were still talking when I returned 20 minutes later. 

"What was that about?" I asked.

"He overheard us telling that young couple with the kids that we were doing the Camino," Rand said. They had wanted to know what Rand was going to do with his walking stick. Made from a tree that experienced the eruption of Mount St Helens, it's a real eye catcher. We spent the entire boarding process telling them about last year's Camino. They were on their way to hang out in Santiago and wanted to do the Camino when the kids are a little older. We assured them there were lots of families who walked, that they wouldn't regret it, and that it was safe.

The man who approached Rand on the plane was a recently retired CEO of PepsiCo, who married a woman from Spain 3 years ago. They divide their time between Dallas and Madrid and want to do the Camino, so Rand was telling him all the reasons why they should.

Sharing our experience with people who also long to walk is a tremendous joy and feels like serving. I think we all have times when we need encouraged to do the thing we long to do. And it is wonderful to think we could be the catalyst that turns a potential pilgrim into a true peregrino.

The next morning, after we'd made our way to St. Jean Pied de Port, France, by train and taxi, we saw a pilgrim staring from his map to the trail and back again. We stopped and pointed him in the right direction. We know what it is like to go the wrong way on our very first day! 

After taking the bus to Pamplona, a woman with a backpack approached us and asked how to get to St. Jean, where we had been earlier in the day. We told her about the bus schedules and what a taxi would cost.

And still later, before boarding another bus we talked to a man from New Mexico who had been in Spain for over a week. "It is so nice to speak English," he said. "It has been 8 days and my brain needs a rest!" His biggest concern was having enough money. We told him to hit the ATM at every big city, that we had run out and it wasn't fun or easy.

Later I said to Rand, "I was so worried about not fitting in because we aren't walking this stretch, but it has been so nice to be helpful for those who are where we were a year ago."

Serving other pilgrims and potential pilgrims will be a highlight of this trip for me!

Travel Day to Spain

Rand and I have been enjoying this season of the Amazing Race. They are experimenting with having half the teams made up of couples who have been dating or married for a while, and the other half who don't know one another but have been paired up as a sort of blind date.

It is a bit like our journey to Spain. Last year was like a blind date that lasted 35 days and nearly 500 kilometers. This year, however, we know one another.

How will this difference change our experience?

Just on our journey to get to Spain I already see that it is easier to complain to someone you know. When we were strangers I made a much greater effort to be my best self.

Last year I traveled from Ohio to Madrid and couldn't believe how close Spain is to the States. But this time, traveling from California to Madrid, it was nearly twice as far. We arrived exhausted and, while Rand seemed to be his usual happy self, excited to be in Spain again, I made a point of letting him know I wasn't having any fun.

Luckily the bus we were hoping to catch was full. I don't think I could have survived 5 more hours trying to sleep sitting up. So we made our way to the train station where I lay down for a 2 hour nap. Which, thankfully, was really all I needed to get an attitude adjustment.

While it wasn't the way I envisioned our return to Spain together, it was a good reminder that there will be benefits and potential pitfalls to knowing one another over being strangers. We know each other and our strengths and weaknesses,  which will benefit us greatly. But we are also comfortable enough to be our more authentic selves.

In any relationship, whether racing around the world or sitting comfortably at home, it will serve us well to always work to be our best selves.

Mixed Emotions

As our countdown to departure goes from days to hours, the reality of our return trip to Spain is beginning to set in. Along with that comes a myriad of emotions. And not all of them good.

We are so excited for so many things. Being outdoors all day. Being together all day every day without the worries of work and responsibility and people who need things from us. Simple living. Few decisions to make. Seeing beautiful sights and meeting beautiful people. Eating delicious food and drinking delicious drinks. Returning to the place where we met, where we fell in love with the land, the Camino, and one another.

The joys are easy to remember. And when you are removed from the place and the situation it is easy to idealize the experience. To see it through rose colored glasses, if you will.

But as we near the reality of it, we also remember the challenges. The difficulty of getting up every morning and walking, whether you feel like it or not. The pain of blisters and bruises, broken feet and isolation. The sadness of saying goodbye to friends you've made along the way. The indifference we felt upon reaching our final destination. And how difficult it was to return home.

I've been especially anxious about the isolation I felt after I broke my foot and had to rest. I didn't feel I could relate to the other pilgrims. And I worry that there may be some of that this time around, since we'll be starting in Leon with just 300 km to walk, instead of St. Jean with 800 km like so many others. 

Isolation has definitely not been an emotion that I have connected with the Camino in the last year, since returning to the U.S. But I don't think it is an accident that it has come up for me before leaving. I think God gives us these insights to prepare us for what is to come. Perhaps there will be moments of feeling this way. Or maybe this time my job is to look for others to serve, who are experiencing something similar, in order to be a point of connection and comfort for them. Time will tell!

Buen Camino!

Divine Intervention Day

Randy and I are celebrating "Divine Intervention" Day. The one year anniversary of the day we bumped into each other on a side street in France.

Last night, in the tent I pitched in our backyard here in California to remind us of our first night together in the Pyrenees mountains, we reminisced about the night before we first met.

I distinctly remember lying in my bunk, thinking that I must be crazy. I was lonely and alone. Sharing a room and a shower with a bunch of strangers. Many who didn't speak English. I was jet lagged and car sick and had no idea what I'd gotten myself into. Who was I to think that I could walk across Spain, alone?

Across town Randy was in his own albergue. He was nervous and excited. Wondering if he should have spent another night in his fancy hotel in Barcelona instead of taking that flight and then the taxi to share a room and a shower with a bunch of strangers who didn't speak English.

We had no idea that night what God had planned for our morning.

Do you have any of those moments that you can look back on? The night before your life changed forever? Maybe it was the night before you met your special someone. The night before your wedding or the night before you proposed. The night before your first child was born. Or maybe it wasn't that dramatic of a day. Maybe it was just the night before some sort of Divine Intervention that you had no idea was coming, but would be the beginning of something. Like Randy and I meeting.

The first thing we did this morning was thank God for that Divine Intervention. Because serving God is all about recognizing his role in the who, what, when, where, and how of this relationship. We thanked God for making sure that we were both in St. Jean Pied de Port on the same night. To begin our walk across Spain on the same morning. For making sure we were both the last to leave our albergues. And that the shop would be closed when Randy went in search of white fuel for his camping stove. And that I would take the time to stop and buy a Camino shell to wear on my backpack, take photos with a young Korean, and step onto a side street to check my map. Where I would just happen to step into the photo being taken by a man from California.

The 365 days since have been so full. From the joys and trials of walking across Spain together, to the joys and trials of getting to know each other in America. From the loneliness of being across a continent from each other, to the pain of breaking a foot and losing a grandchild. From the challenges of learning to navigate "real life" together, to the adventures of a cross-country road trip and creating a home in California. And now to discerning our future together.

The first step, of course, being to go back to Spain--just 9 days from now--and finishing what we started.

Buen Camino!

And just for fun, the video I made Randy for "Divine Intervention Day". Each day we walked together I took a video of the path we were on. And I finally got around to putting them all together. Set to the song "Happy", which we heard in every bar in Spain, and ending with a roadside labyrinth outside of Leon where we parted ways...

From Chaos to a Compliment

Airports require lots of flexibility.

Last week, the first leg of our flight was cancelled a full day before we were scheduled to leave Sacramento, due to the weather in Denver. 

And yesterday the second leg of our flight was delayed because a dog went to the bathroom all over the back of the plane and they had to have the carpets cleaned before we could board. The flight attendants said the dog's owners just made it worse by trying to clean it up on their own.

But that was a minor disturbance compared to what nearly happened when we finally found ourselves ready to board.

There were lots of children, of all ages, on our flight, and many of them had grown restless waiting. While in the narrow hallway of the jet bridge, a man who happened to be standing right behind us chose to tell the father of a couple of these children that "it's called parenting."

A verbal exchange ensued between the men, who were ready to take their "conversation" to the next level. Several other passengers became involved, adding their own opinions about how to keep the kids quiet and the appropriateness (or inappropriateness) of smacking your kids across the mouth.

The rest of us stood uncomfortably nearby.

Up to this point the commotion was all directly behind us, but I could sense that the people in front of us were considering weighing in on the disruption, which would have put Randy and I right in the middle of it all.

Before that could happen I awkwardly said to the woman directly in front of us, "I like your ring."

She looked down at her empty right hand and looked back up at me. I pointed to her left hand and she looked down again.

"My friend, she spoils me," the woman said hesitantly, seemingly having trouble transitioning from the chaos to a compliment. And then she continued, "We live next door to each other. Our husbands knew each other in high school. Isn't that wild? I guess it makes sense though. My town is so small that all you have to do is put my first name on an envelope and I'll get it. Bonnie. Just write Bonnie and my town and they will deliver it to me. But make sure you write the town. Otherwise it will go to a Bonnie somewhere else."

She became more animated as she talked. And one by one the people around us stopped arguing, stopped gawking at those arguing, and slowly made their way peacefully on to the plane. Miraculously there were no other disturbances on the 3 hour flight home, not from the children, their parents, or those interested in "parenting".

Sometimes the best way to serve in a situation like this is to offer up a distraction. A compliment, a question, just something to give people a moment or a breath, a chance to redirect.