It’s Always About the People

On day three of our walk we come to realize that what matters most on the way is the people. Today we met a bunch of regular folks who treated us with respect, dignity, tolerance—up to a point—and grace.

A Family Venture

The girl is 10 and the boy 8. This family is from Madrid and are, as you can see, walking the Camino together. Today’s hike is 13+ miles. I haven’t seen any other children this young on the trail so I was impressed.

If you look below the boy jumping off the branch into the river you’ll see his father climbing up behind him. I know this is not safe, but there’s something about being too safe, isn’t there.

The children above are developing some mental toughness, because that’s what it takes to do something like this. And the young man in the first photo might be doing the same.

There’s Something Here to Admire

I hate it when people put down North American young people and children for being soft. At the same time I wish to challenge my grandkids to try things that are hard. I realize that I’ve only seen this one family on the trail so this is not enough of a sample to say anything about Spanish children. But I can lift up this one family as an example of a family out in nature pushing themselves physically and mentally. And doing it together!

The Little Bike Guy

All day I’ve been speaking Spanish with anyone who will speak with me. The mother in the story above did for a while until it became clear I was annoying her. Those of you who know me know it didn’t take that long for me to be annoying.

However, two men about my age were in it with me for as long as I wanted. It was such a gift and so much fun for me. The first was a small man, probably late seventies. He was sitting on a ledge in the shade against a wall. I didn’t get a picture and I’m kicking myself because of it—he was beautiful. Parked a bit away was this little bike. It was one of those electric kind that you also peddle, but it was kid size.

Here’s the long and short of it for me. When I started trying my very limited Spanish with him, he padded a spot on the ledge next to him and said, ”Sit, Sit!” Then he talked to me AND he listened to me. He was patient with me, kind to me. And I could understand him, at least somewhat. It was good, just good. And I was grateful.

The Gatekeeper and His Wife

The couple above are the designated guards for a little church up on a big hill. It’s Sunday and Mass is happening inside the church. The parish is set up for a party after Mass. Folks in my group think this guy is a bit grumpy, but I know better, because I know this guy. He’s the gatekeeper. His job is to keep order and he takes his job very, very seriously. Sally and I know a dozen like him from our time in Palestine/Israel. They guard the shrines and they know tourists well enough to know that a firm hand at the beginning is the best way to have a good ending.

We want to eat our lunch there. The table that we want to use is setting in the sun. Before we do anything I ask him, in Spanish, if it’s alright for us to use the table and chairs. He nods a curt yes. Then my somewhat assertive North American companions start to move the table into the shade. My brain is raising a red flag. The gatekeeper grunts a ”no, no.” But then waves them over to a different spot, one not blocking the driveway. We sit. He comes over and as he does, my table mates stiffen. He asks, ”Do you want fresh, cold water?” In Spanish, of course. I say, ”Please.”

The Gift of Hospitality

Okay, that’s enough for you to know that this man is doing his job, but his heart is filled with hospitality toward strangers on the El Camino. After we’ve eaten, I pull up a chair next to him and we talk. Well mostly he talks. He’s tells me about the church and the region and a bunch of stuff I’m not able to remotely understand, but I say “Si, Si. Entiendo”—which means ”I understand.” Of course, I don’t, at least not entirely, but … It’s great. I mean I can’t tell you how rewarding it was for me to attempt communication with this man and his wife. And she jumped in with such energy.

We get up to leave and two things happen. First, the woman gives each of us a hug, and not some side kind of perfunctory gesture, but a big, warm embrace. We all teared up a little, I think. I did. And as we started down the hill, the man ran to catch us and gave us something he made—yellow arrows that are symbols of the El Camino.

Now I know that the cynical among you will see this as tourist fascination, and of course, it is that. But it’s still real and good and hospitable, and so, so hope-filling. Isn’t it? We can be kind to the strangers within our gates.

Mary Moment

I found this image at a small chapel on the trail. It’s Mother Mary and Child. However, this child is not the baby filling her with hope, but rather her grown up, crucified son filling her with sorrow. It’s moving to me. But did you notice that Mary is depicted almost the same as when she birthed this baby. She looks 14 or 15 years old, and this is true in every image of Mary holding Jesus’ crucified body. She is the perpetual virgin, forever the girl who said ”yes” to God. I love Mary. She is with Jesus at the beginning and in the end. He is her son! She is his mother, and in some way, she is ours too.

And Then There is This