Swallow the Biggest Frogs First

Head in the Clouds

The photo above is of Sally walking along the path heading to the pass through the Pyrenees Mountains. It was one of those mysterious moments in real time. On Sally’s right there is a shear drop off a cliff. We were never in any danger, but we heard stories of hikers falling off one of the cliffs during a day like our first day. In fact, in the movie “The Way”, loosely following the story line about a father who lost a son in Europe, it is here that the son falls to his death.

At the end of the day we learned that a young woman was still up there in the dark. All day today, people were asking us if we knew anything about whether or not she made it in. We did not. What happens very quickly with this kind of an experience is that people begin to take some ownership over one another’s safety.

Two Days—Two Big Frogs

Back when I started in pastoral work I read a book entitled ”The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People,” by Steven Covey. It was a good book for me at the time. One of the principles that I put into daily practice was his encouragement to ”Always swallow the biggest frog first.” I never forgot that. For an example, if you have a list of phone calls to make, first make the one you most dread. I practiced that religiously. I still do. If I have a list for a day’s work, no matter what that might be, I always ask myself what on this list do I not want to do. Then I do that one first. It’s gold!

Yesterday and today we did just that—we swallowed two big frogs. It feels good to have these two days behind us.

Weird People saying Weird Things

One of the true gifts of this kind of experience is the people you meet. Mostly they are people on pilgrimage just like you. Then you have the characters—there are always the characters. Beer in hand, after the day’s walk, you talk about two kind of people. You remember the especially kind ones—one of the ones you want to be. And, of course, along with the especially kind ones—ones like one you want to be—you talk about the characters.

On the top of the Pyrenees we met the Wisconsin guy. He has a Wisconsin license plate attached to his back back. We ran into him at least three times climbing up. He’s loud, and totally uninhibited, and all over the place. You think he’s talking to himself, but actually he’s taping the whole thing. You gotta love this guy, but you don’t want to walk more then a mile with him.

We get to the top, the peak, and he’s there holding forth with anyone happening by. He has a photo album open and invites us over to look. ”Come over here. You gotta see this.” There’s a young couple sitting on a ledge near the location sign—the one that tells us we’re at the summit. The thing that we gotta see is a photo of his father from WWII. ”This is my dad. He was a bomber pilot, flew over the Mediterranean and dropped bombs on the Nazis.”

Okay, good on your Dad. Then he adds, ”Oh, and on the Italians too.” Alright, the Italians were on the same side as the Nazis so that figures. And then he points over to the young couple who are listening in with tight little smiles. Of them he declares, ”Oh, they’re Italians and I worried I might offend them you know? But hey, it’s history, you know?” Yes, it is, but what is this history lesson doing here?

This Is the Camino, I think

This is what I love about this kind of experience. The young couple get up and start off again, then stop to have pictures taken on the site. They ask the Wisconsin guy to take the pictures. Then the Wisconsin guy wants his picture taken and he asks the Italian woman to take it. There they are snapping pictures, laughing about the poses. The truth is, it’s history, you know?

Where Are You From?

Everyone wants to know where everyone else is from. Today, Day 2, we are walking down a steep decline and there at a fork in the road is an Asian couple. We approach them and I’m wondering what country they are from. Are they Korean, Japanese, or Chinese? The woman asks, ”Where are you folks from?” “Michigan.” And then, of course, one of us asks, ”What about you?” ”San Francisco.”

White Americans like me forget that the United States is multi-everything and everyone. I can’t imagine that this couple looked at us as anything but fellow Americans. And what they wanted to know was what part was our place in the mosaic. Me, on the other hand, saw them and didn’t even think they might be one of us. Sheesh!

Mary and Witches

Mother Mary and her baby are everywhere here, much like we experienced in Israel/Palestine. And that works for me because I love Mary. Here she is on a rock overlooking a stunning view of the valley below. She wears a crown because she IS the Mother of God—don’t forget! That’s a pretty big deal in these parts, mister!

Today we walked through the tiny village of Ipeta. Stopped for a cup of coffee. Across from the cafe was a painting of witches being burned to death. That and a croissant will make your morning. We learned that we were walking through one of the main regions for the practice of witchcraft—or the accusations made against women who didn’t know their place. In the town square here 5 women were burned at the stake for practicing witchcraft.

There was a plaque by the town’s Catholic church telling the story. I tried to get in so I could see Mary, but the doors were locked. I think Mary might be a little embarrassed, and so should she be given that it was part of custom to do the deed in her honor—being the Mother of God and all.

Buen Camino!