Mel's Healing Pilgrimage 2016

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Tuesday, May 10, 2016

Reviewing the 2014 Camino: A Compilation

For the past few months, I've reviewed my Pre-Camino, Camino, and Post-Camino posts on a Facebook group. If you're interested in joining that group and are on Facebook, you can point to

Finally, I've finished my reviews. This entry in Let All Who Are Thirsty Come compiles those thoughts into one blog post, starting with the first reviews until today's review. I want to thank you for re-walking that pilgrimage with me and for joining me on this one. 50 hours left before the flight!

To be honest, I had NO IDEA that I've been spending this much time reflecting. For those who read all this, practically a small book it seems, I thank you for sharing in my journey. I appreciate your prayers as we go together on our pilgrimage for the next two months.

1) Pre-2014 Camino Reflections: "Camino de Santiago - Going Alone, Together"

I'm so glad I'm reviewing my perceptions and preparation from my last Camino. I just re-read prep #3 and have already begun showing some ponderings about what it means to be alone AND together. This blog posting was 3 weeks before I left and the nervousness and not yet reached its pinnacle. I knew that I would be alone and not alone, yet as the time grew closer, I became more nervous and concerned about isolation. What is a blessing about this post is that so many things in it were shown true on the Camino. People walk together into each others lives or they may sit at a cafe and share a brief moment of circumspection. But we're on our journeys together, but on our own, and by ourselves, but not alone.

2) Pre-2014 Camino Reflections: "Lasciate ogni speranza"

Abandon all hope all who enter here. I liked my thinking here. It's definitely true. Taking a pilgrimage like this isn't a time for Hope. It's a time for Trust. Trust and be transformed.

3) Pre-2014 Camino Reflections: "Cruz de Ferro"

This remains one of the most meaningful stops for me on the Camino. It's about 150 miles from Santiago de Compostela. Throughout your camino, you carry a pebble or stone from where you started. You leave it here at the foot of the cross, as a symbol of all the burdens you carry. This blog posting anticipated my arrival very well.

“All great spirituality teaches about letting go of what you don’t need and who you are not. Then, when you can get little enough and naked enough and poor enough, you’ll find that the little place where you really are is ironically more than enough and is all that you need. At that place, you will have nothing to prove to anybody and nothing to protect.
That place is called freedom. It’s the freedom of the children of God. Such people can connect with everybody. They don’t feel the need to eliminate anybody . . .”
― Richard Rohr, Healing Our Violence through the Journey of Centering Prayer


In re-reading this preparation for the Camino from fall 2014, I'm struck by my comparison to Ash Wednesday and Lent. It seems well timed to offer it to you then during this Lenten season. The subject of this meditation was my visit to the Faro (Lighthouse) at the Capo de Finesterre (Cape at the end of the world). The Romans thought this was the Westernmost area of Europe so would have ceremonies asking the sun to return the next day. In the cycle of life and pilgrimage, I think it still resonates. Check out the blog posting. May your journey reach the farthest shores and yet, at the end, find that light comes anew the next day.

4) Pre-2014 Camino Reflections: "What's On Your Playlist?"

Ahh how timely. This weekend I coincidentally skimmed over my phone's music library to see what pieces I need to add or remove (to make room) before the Camino. I didn't play the music ever while walking. I listened to the music at night as I wrote my thoughts down and fell asleep. It certainly helped to mask the snoring in the albergues. But more, I would play music that reflected my day's journey. Interestingly, I never played orchestral classical music. I wanted words with lyrics. The Taize hymns were probably my favorite, as the chanting carried me into sleep. And, as in life, it's not just the high notes and the notes in between that caught my attention: the empty notes in between were spaces that mimicked the beats of the walking foot, the steady heart.

5) Pre-2014 Camino Reflections: "Who's On Your Praylist?"

I find it disappointing that I was praying for Ferguson back then when so little has changed since then. Also, I've truly been filled since joining Lay Eucharistic Visitors right after that Camino. Now, just before this one, I've been trained and am serving as a lay counselor. Somehow the walking prayer feels consistent with the movements inside me heart at home.

6) Pre-2014 Camino Reflections: "This Pilgrim's Prayers"

I still like the mix of prayers I brought with me. It's a blend of prayers and hymns. All of these will accompany me on this coming Camino. Perhaps you too will join me in these prayers.

7) Pre-2014 Camino Reflections: "Preparing"

Wow. I wrote this just days before I left in 2014. It reviews the movie The Way. More importantly, I anticipated that I would come across people, friends, characters, in ways that I could not plan or anticipate. And it totally happened that way, surprising me not because it happened but in the ways it happened. Moreover, despite my best efforts to pack less, I still overpacked and carried more with me than I needed, things that burdened me and held me back. Now that's a metaphor for life.

8) Pre-2014 Camino Reflections: "Road Not Taken"

This post from Sep 9, 2014 has really caused my stomach to turn. In it, I mentioned that I wanted to avoid judging others, to avoid judging myself, to be open-hearted and open-minded about my camino as distinct from the journeys of others. And yet I know in retrospect the challenges I faced on my walk: my choice to stay in Astorga, my avoidance of the a fellow peregrino, even my conversations on the plane home. It's a challenge to keep an open heart and mind to those I don't know or with whom I disagree. It's a challenge to give myself permission to change plans. It's a challenge for me to be free of biases. The pilgrimage underscored that for me, laying it plain at my feet. I hope that in the two years since, I've made progress. But we are never there. We are always moving. The Spirit guides us and it's up to us to keep following.

9) Reviewing that first Camino: "Arriving in Burgos"

AKA Yes, I injured myself and lost something within hours of arriving

What is it about me that I forget life lessons? I know I'm not alone, but are we so conditioned that it takes countless repetitions of mistakes to finally work towards our goals? I think so, but it frustrates nonetheless. I still lose things. I still trip and bleed. But I'm more sanguine about these weaknesses, as I know that I'm still moving in the right direction. Awareness is a start. Help from others is part of the effort. And some day, one day, maybe I'll lose fewer things, and bloody fewer knees.

(And honest appraisal: I bloodied my knee during the family's participation at a mud run in Chino this weekend. How's that for a gentle if messy reminder?)

10) Reviewing that first Camino: "Remember the Names"

I'm surprised that I didn't notice some of the themes of that first day of walking, my second day in Spain. I titled the blog posting "I Better Write These Names Down". It was about remembering the names and stories of the people I meet.

How fitting, given how moved I was when, within 30 minutes of walking, I saw my first Camino-side grave. I remember praying for Rev Wren. Thank goodness his name was written down and remembered by his loved ones. How fitting that my morning began with me noticing how far I was from home. How fitting it was that I found some notecards from Stephen to send me off on my Camino in love.

Which is why this day was so meaningful. The first lesson of my pilgrimage already hit me. It's about relationships, stories, people. I may have fidgeted with my backpack in pain and possibly hurt some toenails, but if anyone today asks me about what I recall from that first day, I talk about the people. I talk about the stories.

Life is too short to focus on pain. Wouldn't it be grand if we always remember the people we meet and how they affect us in ways unplanned.

We are never alone. We cannot make this journey on our own. We will not survive physically or mentally or spiritually. So write down those names, and remember those who walk with you.

11) Reviewing the 2014 Camino - "40 by 50"

The 2014 day started with such promise. Early wake up to my first full day walking. Started with the two Canadian women who also turned 50 but we separated after an hour. At least three hours of lightning and rains that made me question why I was doing this. But despite the discomfort, I knew that my load was lighter than those who had no choice but to sleep in the rain. This pilgrimage is a privilege that allows me to see things with new eyes. It wasn't foisted on me. So I trudged, weary, appreciating somewhat better the struggles of those who lack shelter every day.


The long day in the rain

Upon re-reading this blog posting, I was surprised by the metaphor towards the end. It was a struggle of a day. What I thought would be a 35km day turned out to be 41km. I ached and was grumpy, was soaking wet, and lost my scarf once the clouds burned off and I got hot. I heard live music and saw fireworks, yet needed to rest. Anyone who's ever watched me at a live music show knows how much I find joy in most any performance. It must have been special kind of exhaustion for me to just turn over and go to sleep. To pass up on joy because I needed to tend to myself. We all need to repair our bodies and souls, and yet it's sometimes disheartening when we cannot take part in that which truly enlivens us. Health and joy shouldn't be pitted against each other, but all too often they are. May you and I find both in harmony on our lives.

12) Reviewing the 2014 Camino - "Creature Comforts"

As I read this, I notice that this day was when I started to get my footing. I got a little rest because it was a shorter day. I also got to enjoy an exciting city like Leon. And perhaps most importantly, Susan from Atlanta and I got lost yet we mutually helped each other find our way back on our path. Isn't this so much like life? We lose track and might not even notice it on our own. And with the support of others -- helping them, helping us -- we pull together and can find our way once more. That... that's the sort of place where God wants us. That's the sort of place that brings comfort and stillness to our lives.

13) Remembering the 2014 Camino "Changing Plans"

I posted about comfort on day 4 but that wasn't the lesson. The real lesson was about changing plans, not controlling the camino (your path, your way, your life), but just walking your camino, your path, your way, your life.

This review strikes me in a most powerful way right now as I make my spiritual journey. I cannot force my way; I must live it.

So the prayer that I had for the end of that day in 2014 still remains:

May we not be hemmed in by the journey of others;
may our road be one of fulfillment not obligation;
May we open our eyes to see what was laid before us;
May the stars guide our feet to the place we are meant to be.

14) Remembering the 2014 Camino "The Change was worth it"

I remember this day much. I was more tired going up the hills than I should have been, but the heat was a bit more than expected. Most surprisingly for me as I review what I learned is that I keep having to re-learn these lessons.

And that's ok. We're human and we depend on others and on Christ to stay the course.

And the course isn't what our best laid plans are. Not at all. The course is being true to ourselves, to what we were meant to be, to what bring us closer to God. Sometimes that means going outside of our plans, plans which are of our own human design.

So I'm grateful for the reminder of a lesson of that day: Go where you are called and be thankful

15) Remembering the 2014 Camino - "Offline day of friend and tears"

This was a day of loneliness. Loneliness because after a delightful, powerful morning walking with a new friend from Canada, I spent the latter half of the day disconnected. I was offline because there was no wifi, but more importantly, offline because the contrast between the morning and the afternoon/evening was so stark.

I had not yet realized what was happening. Though I was fully anticipating a great deal of time to reflect on my own, I was more fully present with the face of God by sharing stories with another. Without the feeling of connection, without that community, it was actually that much harder to feel myself walking in the presence of God.

May our mutual affection and love bring us closer to seeing God.

16) Remembering my 2014 Camino - "Cruz de Ferro"

I'm truly wrecked re-reading this blog posting. I filmed via re-enactment a video that's shared here. But what moves me is what I did. I admitted without any hesitation that the re-enactment was a sanitized moment of my personal act... where I could be strong, where I wouldn't be crying.

But I did cry. I sobbed, gasping for air. I didn't film that intimate moment because I wanted to be more composed. Distilled. Strong.

I'll be frank here. This is singularly the area I'm most focused right now. I'm trying to stay "in the moment", always with a knowledge and acceptance of my authentic self. If I grow weak, if I mourn, if I cry out, if I fall to my knees in humility, I need to accept that this is ok. That there's no need for a mask. That I must be something more than I am. 

I'm thinking that when I return on this Camino of Healing, I lay down the burdens of all who walk with me in that stone. But there's something else I must do.

I'm bringing a stone from the Grand Canyon. I FELT that I was in a thin space, closer to a divine indescribable world that I imagine the Native Americans felt in this never-ending valley. I will place this sacred stone down for others. And that something else I must do?... I will place it for me. For my weakness, for my pain, for my tears. Leave it out there in public for all to see.

And I'll leave that stone there, in the rain, in the sun, in the wind, in the dark... There... at the foot of the cross.

The video is at

17) Remembering my 2014 Camino - "Rainbows on Rocks"

That was one of the prettiest days I've ever walked. What struck me though was an "ouch", when a non-English speaker bluntly pointed out that I wasn't wearing the "right" shoes for hiking. (I don't like hiking boots, as they get too hot, so I wore hiking sandals.) As was brought up in the sermon yesterday, our brains are hardwired to spend far more time on negative thoughts than on positive ones. So despite the beauty, I pondered the comment.

I don't fault the speaker as I imagine he meant well. In fact, I ran into him on my last day at Finesterre and learned he was a surgeon from Croatia. It's more that rather than being caring as he advised me, he made me feel foolish. As I pointed out in the blog, there are many opportunities for us throughout life to help and care for others. And during those times, it's far too easy to pass judgment and seem critical rather than compassionate.

I ended that day, people watching in Ponferrada, with a prayer that I don't hurt the people that trust me to care for them.

18) Reviewing the 2014 Camino: "Sitting with the Wine and the Lamb"

The two other moments of the day "Rainbows on the Rocks" are pleasant to recall. Though saddened by the injured sheep, it comforted me that the shepherd patiently waited and made sure they came along. The metaphor during a long journey was not lost on me.

Moreover, the opportunity to slake my thirst with wild grapes alongside the road, grapes I didn't see until I sat to rest, opened my eyes to see that gifts are there all around us. It's by pausing, breathing, accepting our tiredness that we might actually see these gifts.

19) Remembering my 2014 Camino: "May the rain fall softly on your fields"

As I review my blog posting of that day, I noticed how I started with gratitude for the food and wine at breakfast and lunch. Then, as the rain started to come ever harder, I had to pause as I watched the workers toiling in the vineyard. And I had to be thankful. As I ate dinner that night, my prayer thanking those who collected and prepared the food seemed so much more poignant. 

20) Remembering my 2014 Camino: "O what a Day"

The walk up the mountain, crossing into the province of Galicia, to the village O Cebreiro was challenging, frustrating, breathtaking, and of all things touching. Surrounded by mud and vertical trails, I saw people helping each other, encouraging each other, smiling at each other. And all basking in the radiance of sun bursting through misty fog and hill-hugging clouds. How fitting in retrospect then that I should end the day listening to "Ubi Caritas" (Where love and charity are, God is there) at mass and having just honey and cheese for dinner.

21) Remembering my 2014 Camino : "Descending into Hello"

It was such a simple blog. It recounted all the great people I met along the Camino on that day. And yet these people have stayed with me in the most personal way. We encouraged each other, laughed with each other, were astonished at the weird solar powered vending machine in the middle of the forest with each other.

I'm not sure if I recognized it just quite yet, but this might have been the turning point for me with realizing that my pilgrimage to walk with God was a pilgrimage to walk with other pilgrims. It's clear now... But it takes 40km after 40km after 40km, some of that through free range chicken ummm residue, to work its way into my mortal brain.

Thank God for friends.


At tonight's Taizé service, the lectionary reading was the road to Emmaus (Luke 24:13-35)

As I read it aloud at the chapel service, I found myself thinking about my post earlier today... I walked on a pilgrimage just like the gospel reading and also was oh so slow to see the face of Christ in the person walking beside me.


I pray this night that you, who are on this pilgrimage with me, will always see the Christ in me and me the Christ in you. And that if I am to walk in the way of faith and of healing, see sooner rather than later that Christ already is there beside me

The reading:

Now that same day two of them were going to a village called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem. They were talking with each other about everything that had happened. As they talked and discussed these things with each other, Jesus himself came up and walked along with them; but they were kept from recognizing him....

He said to them, “How foolish you are, and how slow to believe all that the prophets have spoken! Did not the Messiah have to suffer these things and then enter his glory?” And beginning with Moses and all the Prophets, he explained to them what was said in all the Scriptures concerning himself.

As they approached the village to which they were going, Jesus continued on as if he were going farther. But they urged him strongly, “Stay with us, for it is nearly evening; the day is almost over.” So he went in to stay with them.

When he was at the table with them, he took bread, gave thanks, broke it and began to give it to them. Then their eyes were opened and they recognized him, and he disappeared from their sight. They asked each other, “Were not our hearts burning within us while he talked with us on the road and opened the Scriptures to us?”

22) Reviewing my 2014 camino: "Me, Ourselves, and Why"

This journey you are taking with me has been so enlightening. Reviewing this blogpost, I note the feeling that the pendulum of awareness has swung. My search into and for my authentic self involves my community with others, whether they come fleetingly or repeatedly. And I was learning from both the young and the experienced.

What was my journey without the company of others? What is community without me? I even brought friends from home, like Stephen​ and Dan​, on my quest. Such was the deepening lessons of this pilgrimage. It was humbling and enriching to accept our need for each others' fellowship, that pilgrimage or not, we can't do it alone.

And it was so very helpful to reflect that the adventures of discovery and awareness by my Austrian friends are the same I yearned for when I was their age. The same that I yearn for today. The same that I will seek in another three decades.

23) Not a Review but a prayer to include everyone on this journey

Some may have seen my post that the circle of life has weighed heavily upon me for the last couple years. Two weeks before our marriage in 2014, Stephen's brother Tim passed on. 12 hours after our wedding reception, we carried our wedding flowers over to his memorial...

Tim finally yielded to cancer. He will also be with me - literally - in my backpack. He will be prayed over in Lourdes and some of him will remain there. And he will walk with me along the entire Camino all the way to the ocean.

We all walk with joy and fear, love and sadness. May we always walk that journey with God's light shining in our hearts

24) Reviewing my 2014 Camino posts: "Preconceived Notions and Judgment"

This was a defining day and evening for me on the Camino 2014. I learned much, breathed much clean air, was profoundly impressed by the journey of Emma and her son Karol, grew deeper in relationship with my Austrian friends, and spent much time alone in my thoughts and spiritual reflection.


And I fell victim to my own preconceived notions and biases. I rushed to judgment.  If you read the blog post, you'll see that I judged Jim from Alabama without hearing his story.

I was up all night. Like Jacob wrestling with the messenger/angel, I could not accept the message that was brought to me. I thought I was learning. I thought I was discovering myself and becoming aware.

And I was still a work in progress.

I struggled and wept 1/2 the night away, no small task when you've walked over 20 miles with a backpack. I wondered if my walk was in vain.

In retrospect, I now know better. It's just a step on my journey. I needed to see my frailties and my less than loving self. It's a lesson I work on and will likely forever face, for that journey is indeed my way. And I'll walk on, knowing that I might not reach my goals as a mortal person, but I'll be ever closer, ever nearer, ever more loving than I am today.

25) Reviewing my 2014 Camino: "Lost My Hat, Found My Head"

It's funny how we protect ourselves with hats. They provide comfort, safety, and shade. And yet sometimes, they cover our eyes, keep us from seeing what's around us, prevent us from letting our hair down.

By accident, I lost my hat on this date. Stephen wondered how many of my items I'd lose on the Camino, since I tend to misplace things all the time. Yet I wasn't bothered. It was a perfect metaphor for the day. For as I lost my hat, I found my head. And I could see ever more clearly.

I at first thought I needed more time alone to process the day's painful lessons. But what I needed was companionship, friendship, and non-judgmental affirmation. I was quite humbled that these young Europeans wanted to walk with me. And it made me fully grasp that though we are works in progress, with the help of others, we can grow to be oh so much more.

We often won't see what's happening all around us if we're always comfortable, safe, and in the darkness. I pray that we let go of our hats and see, hear, feel the Holy wind swirling all around us.

26) Reviewing the 2014 Camino: "The Way"

Yesterday, the blog posting from two years ago talked about losing my hat, but finding my head. Or, sometimes to see things more clearly, you need to take off the things that have protected you and shielded you in the past, because no matter the usefulness, they will block you from others as well as yourself.

Today, the reviewed blog posting records our final day, the walk into Santiago de Compostela. I had been contemplating the events from the preceding hundreds of miles and by the last couple hours, most of the pilgrims fell silent. It was an awe-inspiring sight without sound. Pilgrims thinking to themselves, step upon step.

There are a couple other blog postings that followed but I think this one reflected our silence that day. My blog merely recorded the events and let the Spirit continue to speak to me in that silence between the words.

So in the spirit of that silence, I'll just say "We arrived... and then we continued our journey."

27) Reviewing the 2014 Camino: "Are we there yet?"

Had a wonderful breakfast with good friend Gerti​ this morning. She just completed a pilgrimage to Italy that included visits to St Francis and St Benedict. We discussed the end of her pilgrimage and this impending pilgrimage I start on Thursday.

So how fitting that today's post reflects on my blog entry "Are We there yet?", the events once I got to Santiago de Compostela. My pilgrimage had ended, or so it seemed. But had it. Was I there yet? Or was I still en route to some place I searched. Was I still as always at the beginning?

And as we talked, it came up that my time on vestry of All Saints Pasadena came to a close the day she returned from pilgrimage. That experience for the past four years, too, has been a journey for me. It has come to an end. Or is it still continuing? Am I still at the beginning?

And as we talked, it occurred to me that her husband John​ was there when I got nominated for Vestry and Gerti helped mentor me when I began my term. That marked the beginning of the vestry journey that just ended.

And this post, which felt like an ending of the pilgrimage until I saw the blessing via the, let's face it, outrageously enormous incense bomb called the botofumeiro. While sitting in that church, I realized that this wasn't a blessing of ending. It was a blessing of a journey, wherever I am on that journey of faith.

So wherever you are on your journey of faith, may you be blessed by our Creator that our journey, like life, has no beginning or end, just milestones and resting places, glorious mountains and desolate valleys, bounty and thirst. Let's walk together and know that all who are hungry are welcome.

28) Reviewing the 2014 Camino - "It's the End of the World as we know it"

Forgive the 1987 REM Song as a title. It's a fave from back in the day and seemed to fit this blog posting memory. (Video at

Finesterre means "Ends of the World", as the ancients mistakenly thought it to be the western-most edge of the known world. So temples were built and rituals performed to pray that the sun return the next day.

I didn't need to know that the sun returns tomorrow. Science says it will in our minds, and Easter shows it will in our hearts. But that doesn't mean we can't stop and reflect on the idea of the end of things.

I think today I would focus on the seeming darkness that comes upon us, regularly, unbidden. It stays our lives and forces us to be still. And somehow we need to be unafraid, though in truth, we all experience the fear of the unknown darkness, sometimes often, sometimes unexpectedly.

And yet, and yet. The sun does return. We don't have to pray for it. Like grace, it just comes whether our hearts are gripped by anxieties or not. Do we acknowledge this gift and blessing? Or do we rail against dawn because of the work that must be done? Why do we do so? Shouldn't we be glad that we have another day, another chance, to face the challenges before us?

I burned some notes that day at the edge of the world, letting the ashes of my words and fears die into the setting sun. The journey went as far as it could go that day, that camino. And yet, and yet. Tomorrow, the journey resumes.

... and I feel fine.

29) Reviewing my 2014 Camino: (After Camino) “No More Arrows”

On my last day in Santiago de Compostela, I attended the pilgrim's mass at the Cathedral and got to see the famous botofumeiro, the largest censer in the world, spraying incense as it swings up to the tops of the high transept ceiling. My video is at

It was after a day spent in Finesterre, where as I mentioned yesterday, I burnt some notes there at the Atlantic Ocean to mark the end and yet also the beginning of a journey. The video is at

As I left Santiago on the night train, I wondered about the rest of my visit. You see, I built in a few extra days in case I got injured. If I finished as expected, I could then visit a few other towns before returning home.

And all throughout that time and while visiting Salamanca, I habitually looked for arrows to guide me, as though I were still on the camino. Of course I saw no arrows.

No scallop shells point the way.

No directions.

No guideposts.

Just our language skills, our hearts, our senses to guide us. It seemed rather jarring and somewhat frightening. But that’s what the world is like from day to day isn’t it?

And aren't those arrows on the Camino giving us a false sense of security? Follow them blindly, and you may walk right past the restaurant when you hunger or the dormitory when you need to stop for the day.

Yet all around us, it's possible to get hints. We look at signs, we hear directions, we sense where we’re supposed to go. But when we look, are we seeing? When we hear, are we listening?

Aren't the directions actually there, not obviously, buried deeper within, within our hearts, within the hearts of those we encounter?

On this third day after the Feast of the Ascension, may we be fully aware that the we’ve been given many clues and directions to guide us, aware enough to begin incorporating those directions into our journey. And may the lack of easy arrows liberate us from false security on our way to true happiness.

30) Final Review of my 2014 Camino: "After the Walk, Where do I Stand?"

What a journey! It's almost like another camino to review these blog posts.

It seems my takeaways summarized here are
a) Follow my own path, my own camino
b) I won't be alone
c) I may depend most on those I knew least
d) Monitor my reflexive judgment

Please re-read the story about the young man on the plane in this blog. I've kept that (and the story of Melides) in the back of my head since the 2014 Camino. It's motivates me greatly to set aside my selfishness to see if I can understand the needs of those who I might not know or appreciate.

Messengers, or angels as the Bible calls them, are often depicted with wings because they fly in from nowhere with an urgent message, sometimes a call, to inform or to act. In the 270 camino miles (370 total) from those weeks in 2014 Spain, I had angels fluttering at me from all directions at all hours of the day.

So as the title asked, where do I stand today?

I think the question should have been "How Do I Stand?". How, because life is an ever moving river, and our journeys are not static. If we are to have lives moving towards reconciliation and healing, we must be in motion. It might not be with our feet, as a Camino implies. It might be deeper inside that we keep moving. For "How do we stand?" when our hearts beat on, filling us with life, beating as one with the angels around us?

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