I was one of the first up and at 'em in our dorm this morning. I dragged my pack into the library to arrange things. At 6:30 it was time for coffee and toast/jam. After breakfast I went back up the stone stairs to the library to play on their guitar one last time. Beautiful Spanish guitar with nylon strings. I made sure no pilgrims were still sleeping. Plucking and playing around, trying to keep it quiet and soft, suddenly the hospitelero comes in (same guy from yesterday) and without saying a word, slams the library door shut. It was offensive. I put the guitar away embarrassed. I need another coffee.
The trails are getting beautiful again with all the pine trees and new kinda of rocks. It was really windy, so I wore my rain jacket over my fleece with both hoods on since the wind was hurting my ears. I walk with Chris and Lainey for the first 15 minutes or so, then I go a little faster uo ahead. I pass a lot of people on the trail. A lot of new pilgrims have joined in, and it's making me realize how conditioned and used to my pack I am compared to them after being on the Camino for over three weeks now.
Flashback to a month and a half ago. I'd heard about this Cruz de Ferro thing. I knew you were supposed to carry a rock with you and leave it at this pile of rocks at the foot of an iron cross atop a mountain at some point along the Camino. I had a small collection of rocks I'd collected at a beach back in January. I'd probably take one of these. I opened the small wooden box where they were stored on my shelf and picked one that was small with a large enough hole to thread through some string. A week later I was sitting on the floor of a gate in Minneapolis waiting for my plane to board to fly to Iceland. I had brought four pieces of thread that I began to braid chevron style and used the braid to tie my rock to my backpack (you may now know her as Betsy). I didn't know what the rock would mean to me, but I knew it would come. I knew there was something I needed to surrender to God at some iron cross along the hike I would take in Spain, but I didn't know what.
Four weeks later, I was walking along a dirt road with Camille pouring my heart out. My struggle. The self-doubt that had taken over so many aspects of my life like a nasty, thick weed that would keep growing and would choke the life out of things that were supposed to be beautiful. Like friendships. Like quality time. Like self-confidence.
I recognized it. And I recognized that the root of this weed was in forgiveness I had withheld from the person who all these years I have blamed for starting the weed. This would be my surrender. This is what I'd need to leave my rock for.
Early this morning as I walked up the first part of the mountain, I prayed. I told God that this is the thing I wanted to surrender and that I wanted to forgive. The second part of the hill, I took my uke out of the case and bilingually played a song by Kari Jobe. The lyrics fit the moment and setting perfectly:
You never change, you are the God you say you are;
When I'm afraid you calm and still my beating heart.
You stay the same, when hope is just a distant thought,
You take my pain and you lead me to the cross
What love is this, that you gave your life for me
And made a way for me to know you
And I confess you're always enough for me you're all I need
I look to you, I see the scars upon your hands.
And hold the truth, that when I can't you always can.
And standing here beneath the shadow of the cross.
I'm overwhelmed that I keep finding open arms.
I have felt so wavering these past 11 years. So uncertain. But what confidence I can have in knowing that I serve a God that never wavers. Never changes. He's constant and true.
When I approached the cross above the rock pile, I took off my pack and played the song through one last time. With passion, gratitude, and all the feels. When I finished the last chord, I laid the uke down, took out my knife and cut the braid that held the rock on my pack. It felt like such a freeing moment. Like I was cutting away that weed, those chains of self-doubt that have caused me so much harm these past years. And suddenly I was free. It wasn't instantaneous healing. It's been a process over the past few years especially. But I reached the apex of my healing there on that mountain at the Cruz de Ferro. I laid the rock below the cross, and with it I left my self-doubt.
Never again will I let those thoughts torment me.
After I had my moment at the Cruz de Ferro, I just hung out taking pictures for people (like this friendly, chatty guy from China, Xuhey) and waited for our group to be all together again. Half of them wanted to stay longer, so I took off with Lainey and Chris. We stopped at a one-family, 12th century village that had an albergue full of flags, swords, signs, just decor galore. Lainey and I both stopped to pee on the said of the trail later up. We came to a food truck (yes, please) and stopped for some bocadillos and to waith for the rest of our group to catch up. We were there for about an hour before eveyone was finally there. Then we spent another hour as a group exchanging jokes and riddles. Dennis had some toughies.
We all walked together (Olya, Lainey, Chris, Julia, & Dennis) to the very small, old, and quaint town of Acebo where we agreed on staying for the night. We're at a parish albergue that is donation-based and run by only one hospitalero. As soon as we got there and were taking turns to be checked-in, Olya and I were rummaging through the left-behind bin. I found a 1.5L Nalgene water bottle. Apparently they're really expensive--Dennis said like 25€. I've just been using one-time-use 1.5 thin plastic water bottle I bought in a minimart in Barcelona, so I've upgraded.
Our hospitalero, Pepe, is super nice. He asked me to translate to the other pilgrims for him. Very accommodating and kind. 0% creepy.
At this particular albergue, we are not permitted to take our boots (normal for albergues) or our backpacks (this is a first) upstairs. Made things a little difficult, but we embraced the challenge. Did my shower/laundry routine and then headed to the grocery store.
I picked a bottle of red wine to share with dinner later, a coke, a pineapple juice box, and a two stone fruits. The clerk/owner was taking a while in the back before she came to take my money. Turns out she was bagging up fruit she wasn't going to be able to sell and gave it all to me for free.
"That way it doesn't go to waste."
Wow. So grateful!
As I was walking back with my groceries, thinking about what I'd do with all this fruit, a parade of three red Porche tractors passed me by. As I walked up the ramp, a tractor stopped and the male driver shouted to me, "Hey pretty girl, I have a spot for you right here! Come take a ride!" He patted the wheel well. Had I been wearing my manly hiking pants rather than my flattering yoga pants, I doubt this invitation would have been warranted.
I politely decline as I continued up the side street towards my albergue. I stood with Pepe to finish watching the tractors and then I told him about all the fruit I now had from the clerk to share. He suggested we could make a fruit salad for dessert. He showed me the ingredients he had and said seven o'clock would be a good time to make it. It was still around three at the time.
Before I posted this blog, I wanted to talk to the individual I had forgiven. I would've spoken to them at some point, but out of respect to them this blog called for it to be sooner. I was able to get in contact with that person and we were able to reconcile. It was a really healing moment for me, and I hope for them it will be as well.
I took a walk around the small town. It only has three and a half streets, so it doesn't take much walking. I found Dennis and we went with Olya and sat by another cross monument that had a beautiful view of the cities and mountains to come. We also walked through the dead grass to the edge of a hill to spy on "probably the best hostel along the Camino" (their advertising, not mine). They had a big pool for swimming laps, green grass, lawn chairs, and big flags from different countries. I told my buds that I give it a 10 for Luxury and a 1 for Camino Spirit.
I made the fruit salad. Dinner was ready.
Lentil stew, chef salad, and fruit salad with the red wine we shared. Fantastic.
After dinner, we wiped-out the dishes and cleaned up the kitchen. A gal was summoned to open up the small church for us. It was tiny, but ornate. And the images and figures looked like russian dolls, Lainey pointed out. Several of us sat on the pews in perfect silence. Silence is so powerful. I'm learning so much about the beauty within silence as I visit these churches here. Most of the time the volunteers who open the church expect a tip, but this time when I tried to tip the gal who opened the church and stayed until we were done, she insisted that I put it in the church box instead. That's a true love for her community.
We all watched the sunset across the mountains over by the same cross monument. Today I have felt purified. My heart feels healthy. My brain feels clean. This was a big day for me. Like a soul surgery that is stitched up.
You are so brave. I'm beyond happy for you and I know your confidence will grow to the amaxing person we are so lucky to know and have in our lives. I pray you see yourself as I see you, a pure blessing.
ReplyDeleteThank you so much, Jaime! Such kind words. You and Rosie mean a lot to me.
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