I’m going back. Three
summers after finishing my first Camino, I’m doing it again. But things are
going to be a little different this time.
For one thing, I’m three years older.
Three years wiser? Maybe
not. Second, I’m going to move a little
slower this time around. Instead of
finishing the Camino in 32 days, the plan is to take 38, including rest days,
and I’ll spend a week in Madrid on the front end of the trip. The big difference is that I’ll have some
different traveling companions this time around. Instead of walking the Camino
with my parents, I’m leading a group of 18 Pepperdine students and two other
adults.
In spite of my best efforts to the contrary, I have turned
in to my father.
Here’s how this will theoretically go: On June 11 I’ll board
a plane with 18 students and another staff member at Pepperdine. Bout lunchtime the next day, we’ll arrive in
Madrid for a week of museums, culture, good food, and history. Then we’ll take the train north to France and
walk to Santiago. 15 miles a day, more
or less. Another friend, from North
Carolina, will join, to help me herd the crew along. I’ll teach Spanish culture and history along
the way, mostly in Spanish, which I’ll admit will be a bit of a challenge. As if walking the Camino with 18 college
students won’t. We’ll walk in to
Santiago, weary, tired, and hopefully elated on July 28. Then we’ll fly home.
I watched my Dad run a program in Spain for years, and do so
seemingly effortlessly. I’m scared to
death. There are so many things to worry
about: logistics, the course, what am I going to teach? When am I going to brush up on my history and
vocabulary? I am, after all, working a
day job, and while the University has been incredibly generous in letting me
take time off, I have to keep things running, and prep in the meantime? What happens if someone gets injured? What
happens if I get injured? Oh yeah, I
have to train for this. And so do the
students. What about money? What about
luggage? What if the students hate the
experience?
What about God? It is
a pilgrimage. Shouldn’t I be focused on what God is going to do? Or at least cognizant that he might have
something to add to this adventure? I
have to leave room for that, in the midst of all the things that must be done.
And what about me? Am
I ready for this? Mentally? Spiritually?
Emotionally? Physically? Well, one in four is a start. In the spirit of being open and honest with
myself, my students, and apparently, the internet at large via this blog, this
pilgrimage couldn’t have come at a better time.
I’ll tell you that I find myself in a weird place on my head. Well, more so than normal. In the interest of being succinct, I’ll sum
it up this way: it’s as if, over the last few months, everything that is going
on in my life seems to point to the question, “What now?”
That’s an easy question, right?
Recognizing that this means I’m in what I’ll call a bit of a
rough patch, I’m doing what we all must do at different points in our
lives: getting through the day, finding
solace in the routine and ordinary, and trying not to overthink too much. If I can get to the Camino, then that will be
the time to start assessing, and listening.
I’m not overly proud of the fact that’s where I am, but I also refuse to
deny that things aren’t “just fine”.
Part of living, it seems to me, is embracing difficulties, being
present, and being in the moment. And if
those difficulties are in my head, rather than externalities that are being
forced on me, well, that doesn’t mean I can’t grow and learn.
So, like three years ago, this really will be a pilgrimage
of faith for me. While I must be present
for the task of taking care of the students and instructing them, I yearn
(though the word sounds overdramatic to this accountant brain of mine) to find
out “What now?” and hope that the road to Santiago will also be a road to
“what’s next.” Thanks for being willing
to walk that road with me.
