You Shared It With Me

Have you ever seen something beautiful or funny or unusual and wanted to share it but didn't have your camera or your phone with you to capture the moment?

Not too long ago, Jovi and I were walking in the park when we saw 30 wild turkeys in the field right next to us. 30 turkeys!

On another occasion, while walking past the horse arena, two horses came running over and leaned their heads down over the fence as if to say hello to Jovi. Jovi and the horses just stood there, looking into each others' eyes, until I finally told Jovi it was time to go.

At the hardware store last week a toddler gave me the biggest smile I have ever seen.

And on none of these occasions did I have my phone or a camera. This happens to me all the time. Especially since moving to California, where I have tried to be more mindful of NOT having my phone with me at all times. Because I want to be more connected and available to the ones I love, and in order to do so I need to be less connected and available thru my phone, email, and Facebook.

Sometimes I am left thinking, "God, why didn't I bring my phone? Wouldn't this moment have blessed so many people?"

Today, as I was walking, enjoying the sunshine, and reflecting on this, I felt like God said to my spirit, "I was there. You shared it with me."

So true. And if I would have had my phone on me I would have been so focused on sharing it with others that I would have missed the opportunity to just stand and marvel at his grace. With him. A blessing just for me. Can you believe that? There are moments of beauty that the God of the Universe wants to share--not with the world, but just between him and me!

Words of wisdom from my friend Margaret: "Sometimes in order to live more, we need to post less."

Bigger, Bolder, Beyond Our Wildest Imagination

"Even though we know what to expect from the Camino," I said to Randy one day in the car, "we still don't know what will happen."

"That's true," Randy said. "God did something huge that we never could have expected. And you know he's going to do it again, in some other way."

To me, this is what serving God is all about. EXPECTING him to do great things. Big things. Things that exceed your wildest imagination. Even in places you have been before, walks you've already taken, and relationships that are already established.

Just four more days and then we're off! We can't wait to see what God will do!

Community in the Rink

One thing I love about our weekly trips to the roller skating rink is the spirit of community in this place.

When someone falls, everyone skates over to check on them. (If it is a good skater, everyone claps first and then goes to check.)

There are several people who are really good skaters. But they only spend about half their time showing off. And the other half skating with others, talking with friends and encouraging those who may be new.

Everyone is happy and friendly. How can you not be happy when you are wearing roller skates? Plus there is the free coffee.

I'm so glad Randy got us passes to the roller rink for Christmas. It has been a fun way to spend time together and to watch people serve one another through smiles, laughter, helpful hands and encouraging words.

Serving it up, Camino-style

Rand's "Divine Intervention Day" gift to me was cooking a Camino-style breakfast and lunch for us to share.

A typical breakfast of toasted baguettes with jam. Plus coffee and orange juice. The delicious looking squares are Nutty Chicks bars which Rand had in his backpack and kept us alive with when we hiked the Pyrenees. He brought the lady out of retirement just to make us some for our upcoming trip!

A typical lunch of bocadillas (sandwiches)! This one was a little fancier than the ones we usually enjoyed... a bocadilla tortilla (egg/potato/onion on a toasted baguette) combined with a bocadilla jamon y queso (prosciutto and cheese on a baguette) with a tomato thrown in for good measure. Plus tapas! Shrimp, strawberries, and fresh mozzarella. 

As Rand was serving me, I was reminded of all the people who served us on our journey. The lady who let us sleep on her couch. All of my taxi drivers after I'd broken my foot. The man who held my hand as I crossed a stream. The countless folks who fed us and gave us a place to stay. Who brought us in out of the rain. The friends and strangers who encouraged us with conversation and shouts of "Buen Camino!"

And I thought about all the people who will serve us this next time around. Who see it as an honor to serve those who walk. It is such a privilege to be part of this.

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...

Bright Spots

During our morning walk today, Jovi and I stopped to talk to John and Ryan, the guys who maintain the park across the street from our house. Actually Ryan and I chatted, while John knelt down and loved on Jovi and gave her treats. 

"They are really a bright spot in my day," John said, referring to Jovi and all the other dogs who enjoy the park.

I know John loves his job, but I think we all have days when we just don't want to be there. And I love to think that Jovi could be the bright spot in those days. 

Sometimes God calls us to jobs we love 99 percent of the time, and sometimes we are called to stay in jobs that we don't love so much. But when we are serving God, I believe he gives us these bright spots in our day to encourage us. Moments of good even when nothing seems to be going right or we are tired or just have a million other things we need or want to do. A bright spot to focus on as a reminder of his love.

Let's focus on the bright spots!

Believing in the Best of Intentions

Yesterday I read an article about how we know when we are making the right choice (read the full article here).

The bullet points are this:

• We are all terrified of making the wrong choice.
• God wants us to learn how to choose well.
• But even if we make the wrong choice, if our heart is right--if we truly wanted God's will but we just got it wrong--God honors that.

I was thinking about this in terms of our conflicts with other people. Because my biggest frustration with other people is when I think their heart--their motives--aren't right. When I think they are more interested in self gratification than God's will. Or when I think their motive is to intentionally cause me or someone I love a deep hurt.

But what if I instead chose to believe their heart was right? That even if they made a poor or wrong choice it wasn't intentional? That it wasn't intended to cause harm?

The "love chapter" in the Bible, 1 Corinthians 13, says that love believes the best in all and is always hopeful. Wouldn't it serve God if we always believed the best, and hoped people's hearts were right, and treated them accordingly?