The walk was great. I walked alone all the way to Carrion de los Condes. So much think time & prayer aloud. Some tears. Some laughing. But all resolution that I traded in for confusion, I now get to carry with me happily on this road. I opted to take the alternate route that ran along the creek rather than the path that paralleled the road. It was very hot. 95F with a breeze?
I made a pause in Villalcazar de Sirga where I was going to stop in and see the recommended church, but as soon as I got up the steps the volunteer was locking the door. Just missed it. Next time.
The towns are mostly the same at this point. Same style buildings. Just vary in size.
I finally made it to Carrion de los Condes around 4:30. I wanted to find Olya, Lainey, Chris, and Camille. I came to the first brick convent that doubled as an albergue. A funny looking man with wide-set eyes bulging behind thick spectacles looked up at me. All I was going to ask was if he could check the list to see if my friends were already inscribed in the check-in list. He never let me utter even a complete word before reluctantly and curtly listing off the answer to every question that he assumed I had. It was excessive, but he had another couple to tend to. I left, not willing to put up with that crap. No I will not.
Next I checked the church. There was a good chance Camille would be there. She was not. The priest was just getting there in his day clothes to unlock the doors as I arrived.
"Hello! Where are jooh fram?," he smiled as he practiced his English on this pasty, white girl.
"Los estados unidos. The United States," I smiled back as I practiced my Castilian on this tall, swarthy man. "What time is mass?" I continued in Spanish.
"Okay, thank you."
Out the doors and around the right corner to continue my search for familiar faces that I've grown to adore.
The Santa Maria albergue was an extention of the church building. Maybe they're here. As I came to the open door, a tall, cheerful nun who was chatting with a couple in the alley approached me.
"I'm so sorry, but we are all out of space."
"Oh, that's okay. I'm just looking for my friends. We got split up."
She sweetly escorted me inside to go over the inscription list with me. As she traced down the names with her finger, there was no sign of the names I rattled off. Next she pronounced all the USA pilgrims admitted.
"Nope. Nope. Tampoco (neither)."
"Lynda..."
I turned around to look who called my name. Down the stairs came...
My Camille!!!
She hugged my side as the nun asked if she was admitted. Her name was there. It was just missed.
"Good thing you came down! I was just about to send her away! Can you imagine?" the nun grinned.
The cheerful nun gave Camille permission to have me over to hang out in the albergue with her. She also personally invited me to the singing and instrument time they'd have late.
"Make sure to bring yours so you can share with us," she pointed to my uke still attached to Betsy. I agreed to it.
Camille thoughtfully walked my to the Espiritu Santo albergue where I'd be staying. As Camille's, it was also a convent albergue run by the residing nuns. My nuns were from a different order in which they had their heads uncovered. Are all nuns so sweet, hospitable, and considerate? Sister Guadalupe, the nun that gave us the tour of my albergue, went above and beyond to show us every room and facility available to pilgrims. You can almost smell the great pride she took in the facility she cared for together with the other sisters.
At the end of the tour is when we all exchange names.
"Lynda how linda (pretty)!" they always say.
Camille and I went above and beyond to show gratitude for the tour. Sister Guadalupe was so humble.
Before returning to her albergue, Camille handed me a nectarine she had got for me. We've only known each other for a little over two weeks, yet she already takes note of the things I like and demonstrates her love with considerate acts. What a sweet friend!
I settled in my bed area (in room "Am茅rica with 11 other twin beds with pastel floral covers), I showered, washed and hung my clothes, and rushed off to the 6:00 music moment at the albergue. I was 3 min late, so they were in the middle of their first song when I got there. The small foyer was filled with another 15 people sitting on the stairwell. Camille spotted me in te doorway and signaled for me to come sit on the floor by her chair. Little did I know, I got the best seat in the house.
Front row view of this bright, pure, smiley, loving faces beaming with joy in song. I couldn't keep my eyes off of them. Their shiny countenance and angelic voices were entirely captivating. Is this heaven?
I mostly mumbled along with them rather than reading the words so that I could continue to watch them.
The first song ended. The two happiest of the nuns (the guitarist and the one on bongos) introduced the evening together--one in Spanish, the other in English.
They asked us each to go around and say our name, home country, and reason for being on the Camino. Answers varied from "escaping drug addiction" to "forgetting my ex-boyfriend". Most common answer: finding what I want next in life. I thought about my answer a lot. I never really had a purpose in doing the Camino. I felt God calling me to it. And so I obeyed. Now that I'm on it is He showing me His purpose.
"I'm doing the Camino because God told me to."
I'm sure that's the underlying reason of everyone, whether they believe there is a god or not. The Camino is no doubt sacred and a place where God calls people to be so He can have them listen to Him with more attention and intention.
After everyone briefly presented themselves and their cause, the two leading nuns picked certain people to share a song from their country or an instrument they brought. There was a neat Japanese stringed instrument played by a Chinese girl. I had a front-row seat of her passion. It was enchanting. Another young man from China picked a Catalonian piece on his fancy guitar. A priest from India, Father Stanley, sang a beautiful song from his country. The South Koreans (since they were the most prominent of ethnicities) were asked to sing a song together while the guitarist nun accompanied them. Maybe their national anthem? I'm not sure.
I was asked to play my uke that I brought along, as agreed to earlier. I played a bilingual version of the Kari Jobe song "You Are For Me"/"Tu Eres Para Mi". My eyes got really watery while I played. A mix of nerves and really feeling the lyrics I was vocalizing. Glad I'd been practicing that one along the Camino.
The nuns led us in a few more lively songs together, and then we ended with a more somber one about being the first and only to live your own unique life directed towards God.
With the final song they thanked us and dismissed us with their brightness, for it was time for mass two buildings down.
The mass was also fantastic. The guitarist nun lead various songs throughout the service as she played a stringed instrument from Germany. Another nun accompanied on guitar. Their voices were glorious and my ears were tickles with delight.
Father Stanley from India was a guest priest alongside the main one. Their were also alter kids at this mass, which I had yet to see in Spain. And when I say kids, I mean there was a boy and a girl. Not sure if this is a new implementation...? Altar boys have always been a thing. I was pleased to see a young lady up there.
The homily was about the harvest being much and the workers few. The priest went on to list and elaborate on the what is needed to carry out the mission of God that we are all called to.
What is needed to carry out God's mission:
Prayer
Poverty (live a simple life)
Joy
Acceptance of suffering
What is the mission:
carry PEACE
Was the outline of his homily's main points. Just something I'd like to remember.
The pilgrim blessing followed the service. First he called of various countries on the map to see which were represented on this stage of the pilgrimage. It was impressive all the countries he knew by memory; he was showing off a little. Haha A general blessing was made with arms stretched by both he and Father Stanley from India, then one-by-one we went up and they traced a cross on our foreheads with their index finger, we were given a paper Star of David hand-made by the nuns, and then we all gathered around the shrine of Saint Mary of the Camino (or someone like that--not The Virgin, but another. Well, she was probably virgin, too) and we sang Salve Regina. I just hummed because 1) I don't actually know the song (other than parts I remember from Sister Act with Whoopie Goldberg) and 2) it didn't sit right with me singing in adoration at a statue of a woman I didn't know. I haven't felt pressured during mass to partake in anything past my limits before that moment. I've been able to partake in the things I agree with and tap out on the ones I didn't. But this time the priest shuffled me to the front of the virgin saint as he encouraged me to sing to her. I hummed.
After the song we dispersed with dismissal and verbal blessings. I stayed back for the opening piece of a small concert in the church featuring the to Chinese musicians from earlier. The sound of the guitar filled the massive church with pointy echoes by each pluck of a string.
I left to find Olya and Camille who had jetted-out get borrowed sandals back to Lainey, whose location was unknown.
My stomach told me it was hungry, so I searched down the main street for a store. The ice cream signs are always a pretty good clue.
I walk into the store. There are bins off candy. Uh oh. But I only got 10 pieces. Spanish ham, a block of cheese, two bags of mixed buts (1 for myself, 1 for Camille), and two chocolates for Camille. I was already anticipating the sorrow of this being my last night with her. Tomorrow she would take a bus 4 stages ahead.
I left with my bag of goods to go find Camille so we could share our last Camino meal together. No sign of her in the albergue where she was staying, so I sat on the sidewalk and waited. For 45 seconds. Because I forgot bread. Back to the store a went for a baguette, and then back to the albergue again. The nuns were hanging out and chatting with their non-nun friends. I SO wanted to be one of them. I want to be friends with these fun, cheerful, talented nuns. If I could pick my convent, I'd even make a vow. Tomorrow. Maybe not.
A few minutes pass waiting in the albergue lobby, when I hear and see Camille and Olya pass through the lobby door. I call for them, grab my things, and catch up. They are also in a need of a grocery store, so I we all head back to the one where the clerk already knows me well. Ha
Camille's albergue, Santa Maria, has a communal kitchen and patio, so we make ourselves a set-up on one of the tables outside. We share the bread, meat, cheese, and candy that I brought from the store as we sip on cool water.
We end up on the subject of the Ten Commandments, and for whatever reason, I used the opportunity to question them on the second commandment where God says "You shall not make for yourself an image in the form of anything in heaven above or on the earth beneath or in the waters below. You shall not bow down to them or worship them; for I, the Lord your God, am a jealous God, punishing the children for the sin of the parents to the third and fourth generation of those who hate me, but showing love to a thousand generations of those who love me and keep my commandments.”
(Exodus 20:4-6)
I've asked both Olya and Camille a lot of questions about Catholicism. I've tried to present and receive my questions very open-mindedly, because in all honesty, I know that the religion I grew up with is missing some things that there's might have that are important to God. And this trip is showing me what those things are all the more. However when I referenced this commandment and asked my question, I will be the first to admit that their were offensive motives. It was presented in a way to corner them and force them question their traditions. And that was wrong of me. And I did apologize for it later.
Luckily for them, right after I'd asked, Father Stanley from India was walking by, so they desperately called him over to answer my cornering question. And he knew his stuff and he rightfully put me in my place.
One thing he mentioned, that I've also noticed previously, is that lay people (congregants/members) of the Catholic church are not required nor further encouraged to read the Scriptures on their own (post-catechism). As a result, the average lay person's Biblical knowledge is limited to what they've heard in homilies or what they've read in supplemental books. In contrast, he said that protestants are notorious for being Bible lectors and scholars almost to our demise, as we are encouraged to read but not taught how to understand what we read. This lack of balance leads to separation of the church and the constant formation of "yet another denomination". All the denominations proclaim they have the truth. "What Catholicism offers is Tradition and Scriptures (which are only existing as a result of tradition)," he assured.
Something I've grown to love about Catholicism in just these past 18 days is the immense honor and veneration they show to the Trinity. I feel like in the churches I've found myself in as of late, that quiet and humble respect for God is absent. It's something I'd definitely like to incorporate back into my faith. The next step is discovering how. One of my questions I'm asking God every day when we talk is, "What should I call you? What do you want me, Lynda Sue Davis, to call you?" I'm anticipating an answer.
I could've picked Father Stanley's brain for hours more, but Olya and I had a curfew to attend at our albergue a few streets down. We washed our dishes, and said our goodnights.
Camille would leave in the morning. I had so much emotion and attachment built up towards Camille. She helped me talk my way through resolving so much. We went deep into our lives really fast. Had we had the time, I honestly would have sobbed in her arms and prayed with her before departing that night. I felt like there was so much more I wanted to say and do. I hadn't even plucked her eyebrows for her like we kept saying we'd make time for! Like, come on!
But later we both agreed that a quick hug and goodbye was for the best this time.
No doubt did I have tears welled up in my eyes as I walked back to the albergue with Olya. No doubt did I want to run back to Camille and say and do all those things I felt still needed to be said and done. No doubt did I want to go back and thank her once more for all she's done for me these past two weeks. But it was for the best.
So I sat on my bed in my albergue, my brain full of emotions, and laid them on my pillow.
Oh sweetheart, what wonderful memories you are creating. I too shall be sad when your walk is over, it has become a favorite part in my day to read about what you are doing and experiencing.
ReplyDeleteI'm praying that you get to experience this for yourself soon. It would mend your soul in ways that can't be done anywhere else.
DeleteI watched the way tonight, very inspiring. 馃挀 In my head was trying to figure out how I can make this happen.
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