Pilgrims on the Camino de Santiago

“Consider well the highway,
the road by which you went.”
(Jeremiah 31:21, ESV)

“Blessed are those whose strength is in you,
whose hearts are set on pilgrimage.”
(Psalm 84:5, NIV)

       The Camino de Santiago (Way of St. James) is a pilgrimage route to the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela in Galicia in northwestern Spain, where tradition has it that the remains of the apostle Saint James are buried.

       Legend goes on to say that after Christ’s crucifixion, resurrection, and ascension, James headed off to the Iberian Peninsula in order to preach the word. But it wasn’t yet time. He attracted just seven disciples for his troubles. James returned to Jerusalem, where he was martyred by King Herod. The legend says James’ body was then transported to Spain by friends and followers.

       The history of the Camino de Santiago pilgrimage goes back to the year 814 and the discovery of James’ tomb, which means people have been traveling this route for 1,200 years. In 2018, the number of pilgrims was over 330,000. Like many things, the number collapsed during Covid; but in 2021, 178,912 pilgrims completed the walk. Statistically, 68% of pilgrims are from Spain, 10% are from the USA, almost 20% are over age 60.

       The pilgrimage is based on the destination – the cathedral in Santiago – rather than any specific route or distance. There are many established routes, starting in France, Portugal, and Spain. The Camino Primitivo from Oviedo is the oldest, but the most famous is the Camino Francés or French Way starting in St Jean Pied de Port, in the French Pyrenees. This particular trail is 800 kilometers long and takes approximately five weeks to complete. That’s a long way to walk, but some go even further. On our trip we met a delightful young man who walked from his home in Belgium and was on his way back – a roundtrip of at least 3,000 kilometers. A pilgrim can start their Camino at any point as long as they walk at least 100 kilometers. Thirty-one percent of pilgrims begin their walk in Sarria, which is approximately 112 km from Santiago. So did we.

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      Pilgrims walk these trails for different reasons. For some, the experience has religious significance, but for others, it’s about finding quality time to think, breathe, heal and discover oneself.

       Cyndi and I weren’t concerned whether the tomb contained the bones of Saint James, or any of that. However, we were interested in absorbing the spiritual energy from people who’ve been taking this path for 1,200 years. We wanted to join this ancient stream of millions seeking God.

       Sometimes, we have to get outside of our normal routines and places to reconnect with God. A change of location can result in a change of perspective. And for both Cyndi and me, this effect is amplified by physical movement. When you walk for long distances and for several days it can be like meditation. The rhythmic repetition has a calming effect on your body and soul.

       What makes pilgrimages like the Camino valuable is they hold out the promise of change. We can go on pilgrimage knowing God will change us; we don’t have to make it happen on our own. As a writer, I know that if I insert myself into new environments and adventures, my thinking, and way of being in the world, will change. I’ll come back home with stories to tell, and lessons to teach, and I’ll be a different man because of it all.

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       The first time I heard of the Camino de Santiago was around 2010 from a Long-Distance Hiking Podcast. Then, in 2012, Cyndi and I watched the movie, The Way, (If you haven’t seen it, I recommend you put it near the top of your list.) and we started telling each other we’d like to do the pilgrimage someday.

       But someday takes too long. Finally, Cyndi said, “We need to go now.” I said, “Yeah, our ability to do this sort of thing is a diminishing asset.”

       So in 2019 we started making plans. I researched several tour services, read guidebooks and memoirs, and checked the best season with the best weather for an optimal hike.

       The month of May seemed to be the opportune time: the rainy season is over, and the European vacation season is still weeks away. I also settled on booking our trip with Fresco Tours. So, we made plans to go in May of 2020. But then, Covid happened. The entire country of Spain locked down and the hotels and hostels along the route were closed. We reluctantly delayed our hike one year, to May 2021.

       But in 2021, the Covid situation in Spain was on the uptick, so we decided to delay another year. We weren’t really worried about getting sick, but we didn’t want to risk being quarantined in some tiny Spanish town.

       In 2022 my left foot and ankle collapsed, requiring reconstruction surgery in June. Obviously there was no Camino walking that year.

       And now, 2023 was finally our year. We left Midland on May 10th, hiked 71 miles in six days, then returned home May 20th.

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      We met the other members of our tour group at dinner on the evening of May 12th, the night before we started walking. Our Fresco Tours guide gave us our Camino seashell, maps, hotel vouchers, luggage tags, pilgrim credentials, and lots of advice. He told us to tie the seashell to our backpacks. He said, “Tying the shell to your pack transforms you from a tourist to a pilgrim.” I thought about his statement for the entire journey.

      The origins of the word “pilgrim” are generally agreed to mean traveler. It comes from the Latin perager, meaning “through the fields,” or the French word pelegrin, meaning “foreign,” or maybe even the English word peregrinate which means to “wander or travel, especially by foot.”

       As a pilgrim, we may choose the journey, but we can’t choose the meaning. We choose our path, but not the message, the lesson, the impact, or the changes that will come from it. We choose a life, but we then have to live life as it comes. We have to live out the changes God makes in our heart.

       I spent most of my Christian life assuming that being filled with God meant I would have spiritual superpower, greater insight, or even magical teaching skills. I was certain the reason God wanted to fill me was so I could perform better. I didn’t appreciate that he wanted to fill me with himself just to be together with me, to take me further down the way. While I’ve been intentional about choosing a life, I had no way to anticipate the changes Jesus would make.

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       “A disciple of Jesus is a lifelong learner. A disciple’s hunger for truth is never satisfied. A pilgrim never quits the pilgrimage.”
(Leonard Sweet, Soul Salsa)

       What does it mean to live life as a pilgrim? It requires intentionality and determination. Intentionally abiding in Jesus and allowing the Holy Spirit to produce his fruit in you for the sake of others. It’s about deepening rather than accumulating. Living like a pilgrim is a daily practice.

       For many years I’ve used the term lifelong pilgrim to describe how I want to go through life. Whether hiking on the Camino, or riding my bike, or backpacking in the Guadalupes, or writing in the Basilica St. Francis in Santa Fe, or reading in my rocking chair, or working on my next book, or teaching a class.

       The Apostle Paul wrote: “Take your everyday, ordinary life—your sleeping, eating, going-to-work, and walking-around life—and place it before God as an offering. Embracing what God does for you is the best thing you can do for him. Don't become so well-adjusted to your culture that you fit into it without even thinking. Instead, fix your attention on God. You'll be changed from the inside out. Readily recognize what he wants from you, and quickly respond to it. Unlike the culture around you, always dragging you down to its level of immaturity, God brings the best out of you, develops well-formed maturity in you.” (Romans 12:1-2, MSG)

       Those are good words. Living like a pilgrim takes a lot of practice. I pray that you’ll choose the path God has laid out before you, and that you’ll allow the changes he wants to make along the way.

(Follow this link to my Camino Diary for a more detailed account of our trip.)

Camino Diary

Wednesday 5-10-2023

       At DFW, in the same foot court where we ate while on our way to Saudi Arabia, in the international terminal, which was only a month ago, but feels longer. We are in Whataburger, 3:25 pm, at a table and waiting for our flight that leaves at 5:00 pm.

       We left Midland at 12:24 pm, on American Eagle. Like all trips of this nature, trying to get away and get all that’s needed together is such a flurry it is hard to be excited right away. But we are both looking forward to making this Camino walk and doing it together.

       I woke up about 3:30 am worrying about how we’ll get from the airport to the train station and all that. I worry more about the front end of the trip (Midland to Sarria) and back end (Santiago to Midland) than I do about walking the 70+ miles. Once we are on the trail, I’ll be doing something I’m used to doing - walking on a trail. But all the air and train connections, that’s new to me. And it will be in Spain.

       The Saudi trip wasn’t stressful since Todd made all the arrangements and I trusted him, and I knew it would all work. This trip is up to me and while I trust my decisions I still worry about the improvised parts.

       At 4:00 am as I tossed and turned and worried, I realized: (1) we aren’t the first Americans to make this same trip, (2) people from all over the world and all languages make these same connections every year, (3) I just have to trust the process and don’t be afraid to ask for help (not a small concession). Once again, I prayed as I have done so many times before, Lord – teach me to trust you. We are in your hands, and we are safe.

Thursday 5-11-2023

       We flew all night – about 8 hours in the air. I watched two movies: Ford vs. Ferrari, and Guardians of the Galaxy 2.

       We landed in Madrid at 9:05 am. Passport control was a walk-through. It felt like we walked forever down long airport hallways and rode underground trains forever until we finally got to baggage claim … but as soon as we walked up to the carousel, we grabbed our bags.

       We found an ATM and pulled some Euros, then got directions to the airport train station. Our train tickets to Sarria were enough for us to ride the municipal train from the airport to Chamartin Station. (So, one of my waking-in-the-middle-of-the-night worries was solved quickly and easily. Of course it was.)

       We are now in the train station, where we ate a ham and cheese sandwich for lunch, waiting until 1:15 pm when we’ll leave for Sarria.

       The train ride was about five hours, and Cyndi and I slept most of the way. I woke up whenever we stopped so I could track our journey and make sure we didn’t sleep past our stop. Sitting in the seats in front of us were Blane and Celeste, from Baton Rouge, and they were also touring with Fresco.

       At Ourense we left the train. Many of the train riders were pilgrims like us, and we all walked together to a row of buses, stored our suitcases under the bus, and climbed aboard.

       About 1/3 of the trip to Sarria our bus blew a tire. I figured we’d be stuck waiting for help for an hour or two, but from somewhere close, a new bus showed up, and we finished the trip with no problems.

       Once in our hotel room (Hotel Alfonso IX), Cyndi wrestled AT&T to the ground to make sure I had international calling.

       We met Steve and Chris Robichaud (from Midland (they’d arrived the day before)) and ate dinner at the hotel.

       Somehow, Cyndi and I have carved out a life so that if we say we want to hike the Camino, no one asks why we want to do it. It’s understood that’s the sort of thing we like to do. That makes me happy.

Friday 5-12-2023

       We slept in this morning, unintentionally, until 8:45 am. We went down to breakfast – a typical European buffet and joined Celeste and Blane from Baton Rouge (we met them on the train and the bus) and their friends Steve (orthodontist) and Elizabeth (retired attorney) also from Baton Rouge.

       Today we will poke around Sarria and deal with jet lag as best we can, etc.

       After breakfast we walked up the hill, following the Camino path (marked with big yellow arrows) to the Mercedarian Monastery of the Magdalena. It was located at the top of the hill. It started raining on us as we climbed the hill. We were happy to duck into an entryway at the monastery, where we hoped to see inside. But even though the sign said the monastery was open from 9:00 until 1:00, it was closed now. We pulled the chain to ring the bell, but no joy. They never came to the door.

       We walked back down the hill and stopped in a backpacking-type store full of pilgrim gear. I bought a couple of blue patches with yellow shell designs. I want to put one on my black book backpack, and maybe another on my REI daypack.

       We went to a grocery store and bought snacks and energy bars and cheese for lunches for the next few days.

       Then Cyndi and Chris and Steve went for ice cream. I went to the room and took a nap and a shower. We are supposed to meet our group and get our tour packets at 7:00 pm.

       The Fresco representative, Miguel, and the owner of Fresco, Alex, explained our materials: our Camino credential (for stamps), our room vouchers, our luggage tags, our maps, our Camino shells, and all that. It was an excellent, detailed yet entertaining, presentation.

       We ate dinner together in the hotel restaurant.

       I slept well, except for waking up at 3:00 am. (Seems to be a lingering effect of jet lag … or a sign of getting older). I read my book for a while.

Saturday (day #1) 5-13-2023
Sarria > Portomarin

       Cyndi and I got up at 6:00 am, got ready for the hike and packed our suitcases, then went down to breakfast at 7:00 am. We were the first ones down. We ate from the buffet, and soon the entire touring group was present (15 pilgrims, all from the USA).

       We all started walking together on the trail at 8:30 am. We had a steep uphill as we climbed into the old town part of Sarria, then a steep descent to cross a river.

       Then another steep ascent out of the river to a small village called Vilei. Just past Vilei was a small 8th Century church called Barbadelo. It seemed to be still active. At least, the cemetery was still active.

       After visiting the church, we climbed even more to Mercado, and then still upward to Peruscallo, where Cyndi and I, Steve and Chris, stopped to eat snacks and go to the bathroom.

       Not far out of Peruscallo, Cyndi and I were hiking out in front, when we were overtaken by a father and daughter from Chicago. This was their 30th day of walking (they started at the French border). The dad was named Mike, and he worked as a contract engineer for a company that made software for metal casting. Because he was an independent contractor and a contract worker, he could work his own schedule, so he took eight weeks off in April and May to walk the Camino with his daughter who just graduated from college. Her name was Ashley and was walking the Camino before beginning her first job in June.

       We walked with them for a while, quickly, they had a brisk pace, 30 days of fitness in their legs, for about six kilometers. Finally, I couldn’t keep the pace any longer and Cyndi and I stopped for a rest and snacks at Mercadoiro.

       Approaching Portomarin was a very steep descent to a river crossing. It was so steep I had to keep focused and keep my knees bent. It went on and on and on and was quite exhausting. Then we crossed a long bridge over the river (more of a lake due to a downstream dam), until reaching Portomarin on the far side. As soon as we finished the bridge we climbed several hundred feet of stairs, and then continued climbing up the street, to our hotel, the Hotel Ferramenteiro.

       We arrived first of our Fresco group, at 3:30 pm. We weren’t hurrying but had kept a good pace. Of course, no matter how quickly I walk, Cyndi is intentionally slowing to stay with me. Thanks, Cyndi.

       At 5:30 we joined the Robichauds for pizza. We were all wiped out. We’d walked 14 miles. Not only was it our first day of walking, but it was our longest day of the trip.

       The buildings in the town all looked new – especially compared to the small villages we’d walked through already today. Nothing appeared to be from the Middle Ages here. We later found out that in the 1960s the original 1800-year-old town was covered with water when the river was dammed. Only the church was preserved. They hauled the church to the top of the hill, stone by stone, and reassembled it in a new, dry location.

       We’re now in our room and probably won’t do anything else tonight but take showers and go to bed.

       Most of the time we get in too big a hurry to assign meaning to an adventure. It usually takes a while for the meaning to reveal itself to us. There are things I can’t hear or understand until after a couple of days on the trail by myself. It takes that long for the brain floaters to settle.

Sunday (day #2) 5-14-2023
Portomarin > Lestedo

       We got up at 6:30 and went for breakfast at 7:30. We hit the Camino trail at 8:15.

       It was an uphill day. All day. We started climbing almost immediately out of town and continued to climb for at least 10K. From about 350 meters elevation to 700 meters (1,184’ climb) with only a few flat spots.

       In one of the flat spots, about 8km from the start, we stopped at a roadside bar near Gonzar. We bought two waters and ate trail mix and energy bars.

       Most of the first half of the day was through wooded trails, sometimes alongside the highway. It was beautiful and green. After halfway, during another gentle climb, we stopped at a roadside bar near Ventas de Naron. I had to doctor my feet a little; I could tell blisters were forming.

       We started back downhill about 14km. Cyndi and I tried picking up our pace to let gravity pull us down the road rather than using our joints and muscles for breaking. It was nice, quicker, and surprisingly easier on our legs.

       We ran into our friends from yesterday, Mike and Ashley, and walked with them a short bit. We knew they were faster than us, so we sent them on their way.

       We took a steep downhill into Portos, then back up to our destination for the night – Lestedo. We had trouble reading our map which meant we couldn’t find our hotel. Mike and Ashley appeared again – like trail angels – and helped push us up the final hill until we found the road leading to our hotel.

       It was a very nice boutique hotel named Hosteria Calixtino. A long time ago it was the local priest’s house. It sat abandoned for a long time until someone bought it and turned it into this hotel. Cyndi and I arrived at 2:30.

       Dinner was at 7:00, and we pulled tables together and we all ate together. It was a fun, loud evening telling stories of the day’s walk and from our lives back home.

       I found a blister on each foot, along the outside edge below my little toes. We bandaged each blister and I hope I can keep walking on it. I plan to change shoes tomorrow.

Monday (Day #3 - 5-15-2023
Lestedo > Melide

       Cyndi and I got up at 6:30, and Cyndi bandaged my blisters, both feet. Both were in the same place, on each foot. We put gel band aids on and covered them with moleskin.

       I decided to wear my other shoes (NB1540s, gray everyday shoes that were more stable) instead of the black NB860 Fresh Foam shoes (that were cushier), since the black shoes had given me blisters. We ate breakfast at the same table as last night.

       We left on our walk at 8:30. I tried a different approach this time. I transcribed some of the information from my guidebooks onto our trip map (which was actually more of an elevation profile). The other tour members saw it and were impressed, and several took photos so they could use it during their walk. I was impressed as well – it was a better way to keep up with our progress and make sure we noticed the points of interest.

       Our first big city was Palas de Rei (where most Pilgrims stayed, which meant our walk from Lestedo was behind the big bubble of walkers. It almost felt lonely sometimes.)

       In Palas de Rei we went inside an old, yet still active, church – San Tirso. When we walked in, there was a group of about 20 people sitting in the front pews and singing. One of their members played the harmonica while they sang. It was cool to hear them. They were singing in German, but the melodies sounded very Catholic.

       About 3km down the road we came to a small town, San Xulian. I read in the guidebook there was a place to stand and get a photo that would have a Hellio (Galician corn crib) on our right, a cruceiro (stone crucifix statue) on our left, and a Roman-era church behind us. A trifecta of photo ops from Galicia.

       We went inside the very small church. It had pews and seemed to be still active. As we were about to leave, our German friends came in and started filling the pews. I knew they would be singing soon, so we left to give them space. I suppose it was their pilgrim plan to sing in every open church. I think the church was named – La Iglesia de San Xulian do Camino.

       Our next stop was Casanova, where we stepped at a bar and had cokes and a pastry. When I first read in all my tour guides about the bars along the way I could only imagine dark smokey bars. Our tour guide, in fact, had told us bars would be our best friend. I couldn’t see how that would be true. But I was wrong. There are more like roadside restaurants, with lots of tables, usually shade, some food and drink, and bathrooms. They’re light and fun and social and good places to stop. At the bars. we tended to see other pilgrims we recognized from the trail, as well as members of our own tour group, so it made the bars friendly and inviting.

       We hiked another 3-1/2 kms to Leboreiro. It was a cool town that felt ancient – the stone buildings and streets but had all the pilgrim amenities. We took photos of a Roman-era church, very small, with lots of crypts in the small courtyard. We crossed a medieval bridge as we left town.

       Between Leboreiro and Ribeira Sacra, about 2km, the Camino passed through an industrial area. It wasn’t the prettiest. But it was flat and smooth.

       We dropped down a steep descent into Furelos, to cross the Furelos River over a large medieval bridge.

       Our target of Melide was seemingly right next to Furelos.

       We quickly found our destination, the Hotel Carlos, arriving at 2:15 pm. We moved into our rooms, then took up an outside table at the hotel restaurant where we could watch for our tour buddies and cheer them as they trickled in.

       Six of us ate dinner down the street at Pulperia A Garnacha. It was marginal, sort of an already cooked, fast food feel. Some in our group ordered the local specialty - octopus - but Cyndi and I have had octopus before and we weren’t interested.

       And then, ice cream. Chris Robichaud is a fiend for ice cream.

       Back in the room Cyndi and I worked on the first installment of a report to the Ezekiel department Day #1.

Tuesday Day #4 – 5-16-23
Melide > Arzua

       We got up about 6:45 am after hitting the snooze button a few times. I put some duct tape on my left foot to reinforce the moleskin.

       Cyndi and I started walking about 8:40 am. The route took us through town, crossing streets and highways, down narrow alleys. Today was 14km, or 9 miles, our shortest day of the trip.

       The first church we saw was Chapel of Roque. It was closed, but in the courtyard was the oldest cruceiro we’ve seen yet, from the 14th-Century. It was near a roundabout, in the heart of the city. On this day it was surrounded by white tents and booth structures. Apparently there had been some sort of festival, or was one coming, maybe for Day of Ascension.

       The next church we saw was Church of Santa Maria, a small church on top of a hill. We looked inside and took photos, while a woman and a group did their Hail Marys.

       About 3 km in, we crossed a creek. I believe it was Arzua Creek, at a popular photo spot known as Bridge of Stone. We were with the Robichauds and took lots of pictures.

       We passed quickly through Parabispo, kept going. We had several very steep descents as well as steep climbs. All straight down or straight up, no switchbacks.

       We stopped for snacks and a Coke Zero at Castaneda.

       We crossed the River Iso over a Medieval bridge. The guidebook said it was our last old bridge.

       And then into our destination of Arzua. We arrived at 1:15 pm, moved into our room, I did some laundry in the hotel room sink, and ate an early dinner at 5:00 pm. A Hamburger. Not bad. Maybe my favorite meal of the trip, so far.

       I had two thoughts today. As I looked at the shell on my backpack, the one that transformed from a tourist to a pilgrim, it occurred to me maybe the cross I’ve worn since my Walk to Emmaus (1998) is a similar marker. I’ve never known why it was important to keep wearing it, but I knew it was important. Maybe it was also a marker of moving from tourist in life to a pilgrim.

       We sing This world is not my home, I’m just passing through, but we should not simply be tourists, observing and complaining, but as pilgrims, using the journey to draw us nearer to the heart of God and leaving an affect on those we see along the way.

       My second thought was: I thought about how we all say Buen Camino to pilgrims and village residents as we see each other or pass each other on the trail. Maybe I should start saying Buen Guadalupe to the other hikers when we climb Guadalupe Peak. Maybe it’ll catch on.

       Also, another idea. Find a cluster of worship spaces in Midland, maybe four or five, and create my own brief, one day, pilgrimage. Walk from space to space, sit and pray and sing and write. Try to recruit some people to join me.

Wednesday Day #5 – 5-17-23
Arzua > Pedrouzo

       We got up about 6:30 and sent our day #3 email to our Ezekiel Class. Dressed and packed our bags and went to the hotel next door for breakfast.

       We started on our walk about 8:40 am. We wanted to buy some cheese (Arzue is the cheese capital of Galicia) but all the grocery stores were still closed. In fact, the only people we saw moving on the sidewalks were other pilgrims. We also missed the small church on our way out of town. Bummer.

       We stopped at a bar in Calle for snacks and to rest after 2 hours walking. While we were sitting the Robichauds came by, so we hooted them to join us.

       We passed by a Hindu-looking man who was playing (softly) a tongue drum. He had posted inspirational posters of encouragement on the trees alongside his camp. We put money in his collection box and stamped our credentials.

       It got warmer as we walked, much more city-like and busy.

       We passed by a man who made little bracelets and zipper pulls and sold them for donations. Cyndi selected two for the girls. He also stamped our credentials.

        I was wiped out the last hour or two. I had an energy bonk … the only time it happened to me on the trip.

       We made it to our hotel at 1:30. After checking in we went to the restaurant and Cyndi had French fries and I had penne pasta with meat. It was perfect. I was quickly revived.

       Now I’m in the room writing up my notes and posting on Facebook, while Cyndi is teaching yoga headstands out in the grassy courtyard.

Thursday Day #6 – 5-18-2023
Pedrouzo > Santiago de Compostella

       In order to authenticate your pilgrimage and prove you walked as far as you say you did, they give you a small folding booklet called a Pilgrim Credential. All along the way, everywhere you stop, whether hotels or bars or churches or men selling stuff, they have ink stamps, and you collect those stamps as you go. Pilgrims are required to collect at least two stamps per day, but most collect many more. Here is a photo of my Credential from about halfway through the trip.

       Again, we got up about 6:30 (plus snoozes) and ate breakfast in the hotel. It was my favorite breakfast so far, featuring soft scrambled eggs and sausage and cheese.

       We left walking at 8:30. Not long on the trail we saw a young man playing accordion. He said he’d walked from Belgium, and was now on his way back, playing to earn travel money. He was fun and friendly and delightful, and again, to my dismay, I didn’t get his name or take a selfie with him. I need to learn better skills as a reporter.

       We stopped at a small chapel in San Paio, about 8km from Pedrouzo. It was too small for pews. I don’t know if they ever held mass inside since it was so small. I took a photo of what looked like a line of men standing in fire … the church guide said it represented Purgatory. (I suppose it was meant to be a public service announcement: Don’t let this happen you to.)

       We went in and out of woods and urban streets all day. Stopped at San Paio for our two-hour snack break and Coke Zero, then later at San Marcos two hours later. Steve bought 2 bags of potato chips and they were amazing.

       When we finally made it to the outskirts of Santiago do Compostella we expected to find our way to the hotel quickly, as had happened in every other town so far. However, if felt like we walked forever through Santiago, hoping we were still on the route.

We finally found our hotel (Hotel Compostela) at 3:30 pm. I went straight down on the bed and tried to sleep.

       I took a shower, and we went to eat with the Robichauds at 5:00 – at a sidewalk café – Cyndi and I split Calzone and salad and fries.

       Then we went to the Pilgrim office to get our Compostela, a certificate of completion. It is in Latin, so the only thing I can read is my name. (On Cyndi’s certificate they made an attempt to Latinize her name … Cynthiam Simpson)

       The woman who printed mine said, “Congratulations, Berry" and I teared up. I was surprised that it was so emotional for me.

       She also asked, “What is the reason for your visit?” This, by the way, is not the same as asking, “What is your quest?” That’s a destination question. “What is your reason?” is a motivation question.

        We are now seated in the south transept of the cathedral, waiting for the Pilgrim Mass to begin.

       The mass was OK, considering we understood less than 10% of it, and the parts we understood (the only parts in English) were the instructions not to take photos.

       Later, that night, it was hard to fall asleep. My left foot was stinging on the upper outside, like it did last summer, post-surgery. At that time, the doctor said it was “my nerves waking up.” I supposed it was caused by the shock of 70 miles in six days.

Friday – 5-19-2023

       We slept in until 7:00. Then ate breakfast.

       We took a Fresco tour of the Cathedral and surrounding city, and it was great. We learned a lot. It was striking, the architectural mash-up of Roman-era and Middle Ages and Baroque.

       Afterward we shopped around, ate lunch (hamburgers), and shopped some more.

       I took a nap while Cyndi made a dry run down to the train station to see if it would be a problem with our suitcases early tomorrow morning.

       We met the Chicago women for dinner, and first thing we all went back to the train station (one of the women left her phone on a city bus and she wanted to report it). We all went to a Tapas Bar and ate what turned out to be one of my favorite meals of the whole trip. Great food and fun conversations.

Saturday – 5-20-2023

       We woke up with the alarm at 4:00 am, finished packing, paid for our extra night, and walked ten minutes through the city pulling our suitcases to the Santiago train station. This transition was the 2nd of 3 transitions I was worried about. Well, worried is too strong of a word. What I mean to say is it was one of the parts of our trip I couldn’t plan because I didn’t have enough information I could trust. But I knew we’d figure it out on our own on the fly. I’m not afraid of that. But I want Cyndi to feel taken-care-of.

       We considered taking a cab to the train station, but since Cyndi walked the route and then we both walked it again, we saw there was no need to hire a cab. It probably took us less than ten minutes with no traffic on the streets.

       We loaded our train and left about 5:38 am, arriving in Ourense at 6:20, When I bought the train tickets back in Midland there was a warning that we’d only have 15 minutes between trains. That was my 3rd transition to worry about.

       As it turned out, the train to Madrid was parked alongside our train from Santiago. So the actual time for transition was about two minutes. We had thirteen minutes to spare. Easy squeezy.

       With the train to Madrid underway, I relaxed. Cyndi and I both slept about an hour and a half.

       The Madrid airport was easy. Now we were seasoned pros. We ate pastries. Then boarded our flight about 12:30 pm. Now, as I’m writing this, it is 3:10 Spain time. We have about 7 hours of flying time yet to go.

       On the airplane I watched a documentary about the movie Titanic, and an Austin City Limits featuring James Taylor, and then the movie Avatar.

       We landed at DFW and cleared customs quickly. All it took was to look into a computer screen and their facial recognition program called us by name and cleared us. But our luggage took 1-1/2 hours to come out. They gave no explanation why it took so long, but we think they accidentally took it to the wrong terminal. Almost everyone on the flight had to wait for luggage … some people missed their connecting flights because of it.

       While waiting for luggage we saw the man from Arizona that we walked with on the Camino, the one with a sign on his pack that said “Onward and Upward” in Spanish. Another man from El Paso heard Cyndi and I talking and asked if we’d been walking on the Camino as well. He was also a pilgrim. And a tall young woman, a college student, asked Cyndi about the Camino. She said her parents walked it last summer and they haven’t stopped talking about it yet.

       We ate BBQ at a place in Terminal B called Hickory. It’s now 7:30 pm. Our flight doesn’t leave for Midland until about 10:30 pm.

       We finally got home and into bed at 12:45 am.

       Our day:

        4:45 am - arrived at Santiago train station.

       12:45 am – arrived at our house.

       20 hours

        7-hour time difference

       27 hours of traveling

Sunday – 5-21-2023

       We were so wiped out from the traveling we slept in. Skipped church and Sunday School and orchestra. I did go to the 5-at-5 Sunday evening service.

       My feet and ankle performed well on this trip – even better than my expectations. Once I found my walking stride each morning, I could boogie down the trail without hesitation. I still had a spot of shin splints that popped up the day I got the blisters. It hadn’t gotten worse, but it also hadn’t gotten better.

       However the tingling stinging sensation lingered, especially at night. Making it hard to go to sleep.

       To walk is to leave things behind - a lesson learned from backpacking. I won’t know for a while what I may have left behind by walking the Camino. In fact, I don’t need to know right now. It’ll come when I need it.

       I’m scheduled to speak at FBC Brotherhood on June 19. I am planning to do something with my thoughts of pilgrim vs. tourist.

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Quotes and notes

       “Take the green door” (from our Fresco Tour guide, referring to heading into the trees to go to the bathroom.)

       “Bars are your best friend,” (from our tour guide … the place to get stamps, coffee, and bathrooms)

       Walking on a Country Road (James Taylor)

       “All energy is borrowed; someday you’ll have to give it back.” (from movie: Avatar)

        “Your life can never be simply about you.” (Erwin McManus)

       Perigrinatio Pro Dei Amore = Pilgrim for the love of God.

       "Religion in our time has been captured by the tourist mindset.” (Eugene Peterson, A Long Obedience in the Same Direction)

       Fruitfulness is not the same as productivity. Productivity is about what we’re doing, fruitfulness is about who we’re becoming.

       “Everywhere is in walking distance, if you have the time.” (Stephen Wright)

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There were many points along the trail where the walking surface was several feet lower than the surrounding land. None of them looked like they were deepened on purpose. They looked as if they were worn down by the millions of pilgrim footsteps. Those paths felt very Lord-of-the-Rings-ish.

A pilgrim can follow any route to Santiago. However, these are the routes that are supported and recommended … meaning food and lodging should be available.

Adventures Change Us

       This week I had a Zoom conversation with two men who live in Saudi Arabia. One I’ve known for twenty years and the other a new friend. The reason for the meeting was to hear one of the men tell his life story. He spoke with detail and emotion for an hour-and-a-half, and it was clear God was reminding him how he’d never been alone through any of it.

       I recently read a book, The Intentional Year, by Holly and Glen Packiam. They wrote, “Why can’t God just bring about the changes in our lives that he wants? “

*  *  *  *  *

       I often wish God had a system like the movie The Matrix where I could plug a connection into a port in the back of my neck and suddenly know fluent Spanish, or jiu jitsu, or how to fly a helicopter, or play jazz trombone solos.

       Wouldn’t that be great? I’d plug in and add new stuff every day. I would be a walking encyclopedia of information and skills.

       But there’s a problem with that scenario. Instant learning wouldn’t put me through the changes required to go with those skills. Long-term learning changes our thinking and patience and character. And it’s those life changes that make us better people. What if I had the skills but not the character to use them? I’d just get into trouble and make a big mess.

       I remember enjoying the movie Total Recall, back in the VHS days. One of the story lines is about a company called Rekall that planted false memories into people’s brains to experience the thrill of, say, climbing Mount Everest, without having to travel so far, get so cold, or risk death and injury. The premise being that after we return home from a grand adventure it is the memory of the exotic trip that we keep. Why not bypass the trip itself and go straight to the memory?

       Rekall’s pitch was: “What is it that is the same about every single vacation you have ever taken? You! You’re the same. No matter where you go, there you are. It’s always the same old you.”

       But that is completely wrong. It’s never the same old you. Every trip, every adventure, every relationship changes who we are and how we act. We’re different people because of our experiences, and it goes much deeper than memories.

       Cyndi and I recently visited Saudi Arabia for two weeks where we talked about marriage. And as a bonus we visited fascinating archeological sites that point directly toward Moses and the Old Testament. What if we hadn’t gone on that trip but someone like Rekall simply planted the memories in our brain (and loaded photos on our phones)? Would it have been the same?

       No.

       It wouldn’t. Not for us, and not for those who heard us speak.

       We wouldn’t have experienced new friendships or deepened twenty-year-old friendships. We’d have missed the joy of sharing what we’ve learned about marriage. and the expanded understanding of God’s work in difficult places.

*  *  *  *  *

       If you’ve spent much time around me you’ve heard me tell stories; probably the same stories more than one time. It’s how I teach and how I relate to myself and other people. But I don’t tell stories for entertainment as much as I tell them to make a point or to show how we become the people we are today.

       I don’t know how many times I’ve told the same stories to Cyndi about how we met and what I noticed about her and how I lost her but she found me and rescued me again. I tell those stories over and over because I don’t want to forget them. Even more, I tell them because I want to reinforce the man and woman we’ve become. Those stories are evidence of God’s work in our lives, and markers of how we’ve grown and changed.

*  *  *  *  *

       My Zoom conversation was a powerful reminder how God uses experiences to change us. Hearing my friend’s stories reminds me of what I’d’ve missed had our trip been a memory implant rather than an actual adventure. I’m glad we had the experience.

*  *  *  *  *

“I run in the path of Your commands, for You have set my heart free.”
Psalm 119:32

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What Happened to Your Head?

… is what she asked first.

B:   “Why do you ask?”

C:   “You have a red whelp above your left eye. What happened?”

B:   (While touching my forehead) “I bumped it against my bike helmet?”

C:   “How did you do that? Did you trip and fall while putting it on?”

B:   “Actually, I bumped against the inside of it.”

C:   (silent stare)

B:   “I bumped against the inside of my helmet when my head hit the car.”

C:   “A car? Where?”

B:   “About 6-1/2 miles from home.”

C:   “Are you telling me you had a bike crash?”

B:   “Yes.”

C:   “A car hit you?”

B:   “Well, no. I hit the car. It was parked in the street next to the curb.”

C:   “You crashed into a parked car?”

B:   (Silent, embarrassed stare.)

C:   “Did you crash into a parked car?”

B:   “Not on purpose. I was cycling along, minding my own business, enjoying the beautiful warm non-windy day. I looked down at something in the road. When I looked back up the car was ten feet in front of me. Then I hit it.”

C:   “Are you OK?”

B:   “Of course. I’m fine.”

C:   (Touches my forehead) “You always say that, even when you aren’t.”

B:   “I have this bump on my head. And this scrape on my leg. Also a swollen mouse above my right knee.”

C:   “Oh, that's going to be sore tomorrow. Are you hurt any other places?”

B:   “My left shoulder. I think I have a swollen knot on it, too.”

C:   “You don’t know?”

B:   “I haven’t taken off my shirt, yet, to look at it.”

C:   “Let me see.”

B:   (Takes off cycling jersey.)

C:   “Yep, that’s a red, swollen knot. That’s going to be sore tomorrow, too.”

B:   “I’m a little concerned about tonight’s orchestra practice at church, holding my trombone, and all that.”

C:   “Did you skid across the pavement like last time? I don’t see any road rash. Are you hiding it from me?”

B:   “No. I bounced off the car trunk and landed back on my feet.”

C:   “What did you do?”

B:   “Well first, I checked my bike. I was afraid I’d trashed my front wheel, but it turned out to be fine. “

C:   “And …”

B:   “I flipped my bike over and realigned both wheels and rode it home. Something is wrong, though. It didn’t roll well. I’ll take it to the shop tomorrow.”

C:   “Anything else?”

B:   “I checked the car – no dents or scrapes.

C:   “Did anyone see you?”

B:   “A young boy yelled, “Hey mister, are you OK?” I waved him off, and he went back to playing.”

C:   “When will you go riding again?”

B:   “After I get my bike back from the shop.”

C:   “Where are your going?”

B:   “To take a shower and wash off some of this embarrassment.”

“I run in the path of Your commands, for You have set my heart free.” Psalm 119:32

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It Was a Great Day

      We started our adventure in Al Bad’a, a town located in what was ancient Midian, at The Well of Moses, where it is believed Moses met his wife Zipporah after fleeing from Egypt.

      Next, we went across the highway to see some Midianite tombs that had been carved into the stone mountains.

      From there a lot of rough and bouncy off-road driving up into Wadi Tayyib Al Ism (wadis are like valleys, or better, like arroyos) until we reached a point where the wadi was blocked by a row of significant stones placed to stop all vehicle traffic. No more driving.

      Our group walked about 4-1/2 miles up the wadi, which was spectacular. The walls gradually became more vertical and closer together as we approached the Red Sea beach. The locals have referred to this wadi as The Eye of Moses for millennia.

      We snacked, hydrated, played in the Red Sea, and took photos. Then we walked out, back to our vehicles.

      By the time we got back to our hotel it was 7:00 pm; we had to delay dinner a bit to allow for Ramadan. We went to a restaurant recommended by a local, a young man I’ll call Bob (not his real name), and we took him to dinner with us as our guest. His favorite restaurant was called North Indian Food. Very appropriate.

      Dinner turned out to be one of the highlights of our two weeks in Saudi Arabia. Our exhaustion from the day’s shared experiences led to delightful conversation. The restaurant staff took great care of us, smiling and bring out food, and more food. We laughed and ate. On and on.

      When it came time to leave, we asked for the bill, only to discover the entire meal had been paid for by Bob. He had arranged to pay for all of it, either by speaking at the counter when we weren’t looking, or maybe in advance earlier in the day.

      We felt guilty about Bob paying knowing his salary was minuscule compared to any of ours, but he refused to relent. He just smiled, beamed, and shook his head. He insisted on treating us.

      When our objections finally ran their course, Bob said, “Before I met Steve (our tour guide) I was bitter and depressed. But he brought joy and hope into my life.” We finally stopped arguing and let him pay the bill. I wasn’t an easy surrender, but it was the right thing to do.

      That night I dreamed of a Bible story from John 12, when a woman named Mary poured perfume on Jesus’ feet. It was a bold and costly thing to do, and she did it out of gratitude for what Jesus had done for her.

      It occurred to me that Bob buying our dinner was never about money, like we thought it was, but about gratitude. He bought dinner out of thankfulness for a changed life.

      It’s difficult to stand down and let someone take care of us. Especially when we’ve spent decades taking care of other people. Being willing to receive often takes more grace than giving to others.

      What if we had pushed the point until Bob finally relented and let us pay? We’d have missed a great blessing, and a pure demonstration of gratitude.

*  *  *  *  *

“I run in the path of Your commands, for You have set my heart free.”
Psalm 119:32

On the Trail

I wrote this in November 2007, only days after losing a city-wide election following 12 years of public service. I recently rediscovered it while studying to teach John 13.

       I met my daughter Katie for lunch in Arlington, and then drove to White Rock Lake in Dallas to run ... something I’d looked forward to for days. Being on that trail was so pleasant, I wondered if I’d enjoy it as much if I lived in Dallas and could run there all the time. I don’t know, but this run, only one day after I lost a citywide election bringing this phase of my government life to an end, felt like coming home. It felt like the future. It felt like what’s next.

       The trail around the lake was a soothing salve: the solitude; the familiarity; the chance to use my legs for fun instead of campaigning; the unfamiliarity and uniqueness of the surrounding neighborhoods; the anticipation of knowing I’d run here again someday soon; the close scheduling required to squeeze this indulgence into my busy day; the smugness I felt from knowing about a great place to run on dirt even in the big city; the winding path through trees and alongside the lake; the cool air that was brisk enough to refresh but warm enough for T-shirt and shorts; the way my knees felt good,  hinting that the future might be OK; the soothing voices from my iPod - first a podcast about running and then another by Erwin McManus about our calling as Christians to engage with society; the brilliant blue North Texas sky: the shared sense of purpose I got from other runners on the path even though we said nothing more than “Hi” as we passed each other; the arrows and race markings painted on the asphalt trail that reminded me of my many years of making the same marks for my own races; the irony – not the right word, the appropriateness - of running on an urban trail at the end of this political era and remembering the unmistakable call to public life I heard while running on a different urban trail on a similarly bright cloudless day, March 21, 1987 to be exact, in Washington Park in Denver.

       John 15:2 says, “Every branch that does bear fruit He prunes so that it will be even more fruitful;” an important concept to grasp when I’m in the middle of a pruning project.

       On the trail I thought about my satisfaction of knowing how much Cyndi believes in me; and knowing how jealous she’ll be that she isn’t here with me on this trail today; the confidence I get from our shared passions for running and teaching and giving our lives away; the anticipation of more opportunities to teach in my church in the coming months now that the campaign is over; the luxury of being able to run and workout and exercise – I’m blessed with the physical ability to do this and the discretionary time to devote to something so selfish; the freedom that fitness brings, as Cyndi so often reminds; the songs that played on my iPod following the podcasts that reminded me of the future and my desire to live a life less ordinary; the dreams of writing and publishing and sharing my heart in print; the shady cool contagious parts of the trail that wind through the trees into a different world and a different time; the sunny parts of the trail beside the lake where the lapping waves sound so exotic to my West Texas ears;

       Running on the White Rock trail reinforced my curiosity for adventures God has for us in the future, just around the bend and out of site; the thought that I can wear casual clothes every day now that I don’t have constituents to reassure; the wonder at where the weight of my life should be applied from now on; the thought that even the phrase “from now on” doesn’t make as much sense to me as it used to since I’ve learned to expect regular adjustments to my perfect plans; that I don’t anticipate anything I’m doing today to last “from now on.”

       I read in John 13 about a time when Jesus washed the feet of his disciples and asked, “Do you understand what I have done for you?” I wrote in the margin of my Bible: “Almost never.” In my life, I seldom understand what Jesus has done for me in real time; only later when I look back can I hope to understand the significance.

“I run in the path of Your commands, for You have set my heart free.” Psalm 119:32

Ash Wednesday

       I attended an Ash Wednesday service this week. It was only my second time for such a thing; the other was ten years ago. This time, it was a combined service that brought together four churches: First Baptist (my church), First Methodist (our host), First Presbyterian, and Golf Course Road Church of Christ. Two of the churches observe Ash Wednesday every year, but the other two don’t.

       The Methodists made us feel very welcome. In fact, sitting side-by-side in our church clothes, we all looked alike. All four churches are too large to know everyone, so there was a bit of uncertainty whether the new person sitting next to you was one of us, or one of them. As it should be.

       Ash Wednesday marks the beginning of the 40-day period of prayer and abstinence known as Lent. The name comes from the practice of placing ashes on the foreheads of worshipers as a reminder and celebration of human mortality, and as a sign of mourning and repentance to God. Through the years, I’ve seen people walking around with an ashen cross on their forehead, and I knew what it meant, but I didn’t participate. It never occurred to me. We always had something else to do at our own church.

       I’ve spent my entire life in Baptist churches, and Baptists don’t do liturgy. In fact, we run away from it as fast as we can. We don’t even like someone reading a printed prayer; if it isn’t improvised on the spot, we aren’t sure God pays attention. The closest we come to liturgy is when we do responsive readings from our hymn books, back when we used hymn books.

       Since it is so different from my upbringing, a liturgical service always catches me off balance. Liturgy is not magic. It can become stale and repetitious just like any form of worship. But being surprised by God is magic, however it happens.

       For me, this time, the surprise was how emotional I felt. I was in tears much of the time. I realized how much I needed this communal form of worship. I felt is deeply when we all read a prayer together, out loud, in unison. Most holy and merciful Father: We confess to you and to one another, and to the whole communion of saints in heaven and on earth, that we have sinned by our own fault in thought, word, and deed; by what we have done, and by what we have left undone. There is an element of surrender in reading a liturgy aloud. You end up saying things you aren’t brave enough to say on your own initiative.

       At the conclusion, I left the service quickly and quietly, working my way silently through the crowd and out the back door. I was too soft to talk to anyone. I turned off my audio book and drove home in silence because I wanted to linger in the moment a bit longer.

       Once I got home, Cyndi took one look at my marked forehead and said, “You’ve been seriously marked.” I looked at it in the mirror for the first time, and it looked like the minister had used one of those extra-large Magic Markers. “Well, I chose one of the Presbyterian ministers. I figured they had the most experience with this sort of thing.”

“I run in the path of Your commands, for You have set my heart free.” Psalm 119:32

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Draw it Light

       We (Cyndi, Katie, two granddaughters, and me) spent four days before Christmas at Disney World, and one of the surprising highlights of our week was a drawing class taught by one of the Disney animators. We all drew Nick Wilde, the fox from Zootopia. Who knew that was even possible?

       The half-hour class was titled The Animation Experience at Conservation Station. When I first saw it on our list of things to do at Animal Kingdom, I assumed we three adults would stand in the back while the two granddaughters did the drawing. Of course, that isn’t what happened. When they let us inside the room we stayed in line like Disney trained us to do, and before I knew it, we were all sitting with lap boards and paper and pencils. Just like that.

       The paper they gave us has some faint blue marks on it. Once the class started, we used those blue lines as anchor points for our own pencil lines. That took the pressure off trying to get the perspectives and sizes right the very first time. But there was plenty of space for us to make a variety of interpretations. After the class was over, we all compared our drawings, and they were all alike, but they were all different.

       I enjoyed this class so much I trimmed my drawing to size and glued it inside my journal as a reminder of the experience.

       Our animation instructor gave us step-by-step instructions on how to illustrate the character, and we were all quite proud of our results. I’m sad that I didn’t remember the instructor’s name because he said several things that caused me to stop drawing and start writing his words in the corner of my paper. I’m a writer, not a drawer, after all. The ones I captured were: (1) “Draw it light until you get it right.”, (2) “Would you rather learn from your neighbor’s mistakes, or your own mistakes? Why wait on other people?” and (3) “Practice doesn’t make perfect. There is no perfect. Practice makes better.”

*   *   *   *   *

       “Draw it light until you get it right.” Our instructor encouraged us to make lots of light marks on our paper until we found what we wanted, then darken those marks to make the final drawing.

       It isn’t comfortable for most of us to have our nearly ready work on display where anyone can see it, even when the anyone is limited to whoever is sitting on the right and left. We prefer not to show what we think of as our mistakes. We’d rather present the finished work without any stray marks or eraser smudges.

       The problem with doing life that way is you risk never finishing anything. Or worse, never starting.

       The instructor’s advice is so much better than another phrase we use in similar situations: Fake it ‘till you make it. I’ve never liked that idea. I don’t want to fake it. It feels like I’m trying to fool people. Pull something over on them.

       Now, whenever I do something new, I hope the phrase that runs through my head will be: Draw it light until you get it right.

*   *   *   *   *

       “Would you rather learn from your neighbor’s mistakes or from your own? Why wait on other people? The key word here, is learn. It isn’t enough to observe mistakes. Our objective is to learn, to get better. Our instructor was telling us not to wait for your neighbor to draw first so you can copy what they did. Draw your own. Give it a try. Make your mark.

       I remember when our kids would bring me a box of Legos and a set of instructions and ask for help. My first question was, “What have you done so far?” I wanted them to start on their own and work at it before asking for help. Because that’s how they would learn to try and how they would learn to trust their own efforts. I wasn’t interested in solving all their problems, but I wanted to equip them to solve their own. I wanted them to make their own mistakes so they could learn to be creative all their lives.

*   *   *   *   *

       “Practice doesn’t make perfect. There is no perfect. Practice makes better.” We must give up on the idea of perfect if we want to accomplish anything.

       Jon Acuff wrote, “Perfectionism is just fear wearing a tuxedo. It masquerades as a character trait, as if it’s an asset, but it’s not. It’s a poison that pretends to be a vitamin.”

       Forget perfect; go for practice. If you practice anything over and over, you can’t help but get better, whether we are talking about musical scales, throwing a baseball, writing essays, or brain surgery.

       The point is not to be timid or afraid, or refuse to learn from our neighbor, or give up trying to be perfect … but to be brave and bold enough to start the project anyway, to be prepared to learn on-the-fly, and to keep practicing.

       How can we go wrong living like that?

*  *  *  *  *

“I run in the path of Your commands, for You have set my heart free.”
Psalm 119:32

100 Things That Made 2022

       It’s the most wonderful time of the year, the time for making lists. I love lists. They make me happy, calm me down, and push me forward into the future – especially lists of happy things and good times.

       When we look back over our life, and over the previous year, we tend to remember the bad over the good.

       Why is that?

       Two reasons: Most good things stretch out over long periods of time, but bad things happen all at once, so the bad things stick in our memory while the good things fade to the back. Also, we have an Enemy who tries to rob us of joy and love and covers over our best memories with the debris of daily life.

       Therefore, we must intentionally remind ourselves of the good things, the grace-filled things, the influential things, and the things that make us human. Living with gratitude is the secret to a meaningful life, and this exercise of listing people, events, and things that made the year better is a powerful move toward having a habitually thankful heart.

       Writer and artist, Austin Kleon, taught me to do this, and thanks to him this is my 8th edition. You may notice some repeats from my previous lists. That’s on purpose. I love the good things that stick year after year, and I want to call them out.

       I encourage you to put together your own list, and don’t stop until you can identify at least 100 things. It won’t be easy. You may have to find help to remember the best, so dig out your journals, flip through the photos on your phone, comb through your calendars, review your reading lists and music purchases, and ask those who are close to you. It can be a lot of work, but trust me, it’s worth the effort.

       And when you do, I hope you share. A big part of imbedding gratitude in your life is making it known.

100 Things That Made 2022

(By the way, this list has been randomly sorted. Trying to rank items by importance is paralyzing.)

1.       Fleece pullovers

2.       Quote: “God loves you the way you are, not the way you ought to be. None of us are the way we ought to be, and never will.” (Brennan Manning)

3.       Donating my 129th pint of blood (16.125 gallons).

4.       Sharing cartoons on my Facebook page.

5.       Book: One Long River of Song, by Brian Doyle

6.       Reading my Daily Bible

7.       Book: Lonesome Dove, (Larry McMurtry)

8.       Podcast: Clear + Vivid (Alan Alda)

9.       Movie: Top Gun Maverick

10.    Holding hands with Cyndi while sitting on the couch and watching old TV episodes.

11.    Bear Trap Ranch near Colorado Springs, CO.

12.    Book: Where the Light Fell, by Philip Yancey

13.    Attending the Chicago concert in Midland with Freemans and Grigsbys.

14.    Book: Where Good Ideas Come From, by Steven Johnson.

15.    My friend, Paul, who loaned his trailer to us to fill with demolition debris from our bathrooms remodeling project. He went with me to the city dump to unload it, where we were the oldest trailer unloaders out of two dozen crews.

16.    Finding Mick Herron, another author to follow after I finished reading all of John LeCarre’s books. I’ve finished his first two novels: Slow Horses, and Dead Lions.

17.    Hamburgers with tater tots at Blue Sky

18.    The Wonderful Name Christmas celebration and worship at First Baptist Church – playing in the orchestra was energizing.

19.    Watching the original Magnum P.I. series with Cyndi and remembering when we made the same fashion choices in the 1980s.

20.    Quote: “They don’t put championship rings on smooth hands.” (Brent Venebles)

21.    A Get Well Soon card from my yoga class homies.

22.    Mailing birthday cards

23.    Iron Men Muster with Jeff Andrechyn. I love introducing my guys to the men that have spoken into my own heart and life.

24.    My black Lululemon Sojourn Jacket, a gift from Cyndi.

25.    Soft-Cover, black, squared Moleskine Journals

26.    Movie: The Lost City

27.    Making beef runs to Texline, which means, spending the entire day with Cyndi.

28.    Leading a Sunday School teacher training program with Clark.

29.    Bill Britt with Integrity Massage – he keeps me moving.

30.    Thumbing through Facebook memories each morning, reinforcing those fun, clever, and meaningful things that I had forgotten.

31.    Taco Tuesdays … a family staple for over 25 years.

32.    Podcast: Broken Record (Rick Rubin and Malcolm Gladwell) … especially interviews with Tedeschi Trucks Band, and Bonnie Raitt

33.    Quote: “Good, wise hearts are obtained through lifetimes of diligent effort.” (David Brooks)

34.    Quote: “Good teaching is just saving people time.” (Ian Cron)

35.    Playing in the FBC orchestra and Midland College Jazz Band with Cyndi

36.    Dr. Vineyard and the Carrell Clinic in Dallas. They operated on my left foot and ankle June 22nd, and thanks to them, I have better walking and hiking days ahead of me. (I just powered through four days of 8-10 miles per day, chasing Cyndi and Katie through Disney World.)

37.    Quote: “Simply put, it is never the perfect time to begin.” (Alastair Humphreys)

38.    Ruthlessly blocking hateful people on Facebook

39.    Book: Liturgy of the Ordinary (Tish Harrison Warren)

40.    Regular dinners with Britt and Patti Pyeatt

41.    Playing in the worship service with Rabon, Craig, Jeff, Shumie, and Laurlyn.

42.    Quote (when asked about his life as a music legend): “The part I didn’t know was that it would be a 50-year bus ride.” (Merle Haggard)

43.    Sharing insights from daily Bible reading on my Facebook page.

44.    Movie: Operations Mincemeat

45.    Quote: “Don’t listen to people who have one piece of advice.” (Seth Godin)

46.    Wedding of Mier Simpson and Josh McClellan. Not only was it a joyous occasion, dancing with Cyndi at the reception was the best my left foot had felt in months.

47.    Yellow highlighters

48.    Thanksgiving meal with Darin and Julie Wood and family and friends.

49.    31st annual Midland Storytelling Festival. We’ve attended all 31.

50.    Cyndi’s homemade apple pie

51.    Quote (about knowing your calling): “What has God put in you that he wants you to give to the world?” (Gary Barkalow)

52.    The cookies Cyndi leaves in my kitchen drawer … just for me!

53.    Quote: “Things that frighten me: Relying on the past for my identity.” (Alastair Humphrey)

54.    Our large tribe of clever, intelligent, godly friends. Sometimes if feels like we have more than our share.

55.    Cycling.

56.    My new rolling tool chest that Cyndi gave to me for my birthday

57.    Book: The Geography of Bliss, by Eric Weiner.

58.    Movie: Hector and the Search for Happiness.

59.    Giving a talk – sharing my heart - about mentoring, at Base Camp Gathering.

60.    Our Family Vacation to Disney World

61.    My research trip to New Mexico to visit Forrest and Ruth Brockman and see first-hand the remains of Tolar.

62.    A Facebook post that I originally wrote in May 2018 but rediscovered this year:

Cyndi and I went to the Wagner Noel last night to see the Sound of Music, and as I sat watching I realized why I’ve always liked this musical so much. I’m married to Maria.

She is: free-spirited, loves music and being outside, spreads joy and energy in every room she enters, sings in the hallway and the abbey, does the macarena in the church balcony while running the media computer, dances while playing percussion, gets nervous when she realizes how much people are noticing her yet cannot stop herself from moving to the front of the room and taking over, and has turned this square-cornered captain into a dancer and poet and musician and lover.

63.    The peace that comes from not watching 24-hour TV news

64.    Working on my first novel, my first attempt at writing fiction. I hope to publish it soon.

65.    Sudoku puzzles

66.    Traveling down the highway listening to audio books with Cyndi

67.    Cyndi Simpson in yoga pants

68.    Movie: Summer of Soul.

69.    Serving on the Midland Development Corporation board.

70.    The Field’s Edge grand opening celebration.

71.    Touring the Dallas Makerspace with Byron and Angela.

72.    Wrangler Relaxed-Fit jeans. Skinny jeans don’t work for me.

73.    Christmas caroling with the Grace and Compass Sunday School classes. We had about sixty people. Caroling is a tradition that should not die. It is important.

74.    Watching Cyndi worship with the church media team.

75.    Energel Liquid Gel Ink Metal Tip 07mm ball pens

76.    Listening to Amy Grant sing Christmas while slicing vegetables in the kitchen for our Thanksgiving dinner.

77.    Reentering church leadership. Specifically, serving as chairman of the church council. It was a fulfilling, deepening experience.

78.    Witnessing my granddaughter Landry’s baptism at Rush Creek Church Mansfield West.

79.    Regular phone calls from my brother, Carroll; even when they are about futbol.

80.    I’m up to 5-mile walks, still recovering from surgery last June.

81.    Movie: The Jesus Music

82.    Whataburger Yeti cup

83.    Finishing the year with 2,889 books on my reading list (since 1986). Send me your list; I’ll send you mine.

84.    Book: A Burning in My Bones – biography of Eugene Peterson (Winn Collier)

85.    Base Camp Gathering in Colorado with my Noble Heart friends

86.    Knee scooters: a great invention. They can be awkward, but much safer than crutches for a 66-year-old and make it possible to move through an airport very fast. (And my friends Darrell Hopkins & Skeet Doss, who loaned their knee scooters to me.)

87.    Kevin Willhite with Soft Touch Chiropractic Clinic. He keeps me straight and pain-free.

88.    The Midland Art Crawl at Cyndi’s yoga studio and playing Christmas jazz with Craig and Rabon.

89.    Madden’s entry into the family business – distance running and trombone playing

90.    Book: Ruthless Trust (Brennan Manning)

91.    Playing trombone with Denver and the Mile High Orchestra in Alpine and Midland, TX

92.    Quote: “Hope is a discipline.”

93.    The Anti-Gravity treadmill at Paradigm Physical Therapy.

94.    Handing my high school trombone, a 1973 Conn 88H, to my granddaughter, a beginning trombone player.

95.    Tuesday morning gentle yoga class.

96.    Book: Miracle and Wonder (Malcolm Gladwell, Bruce Headlam, and Paul Simon)

97.    Hearing a rooster crow at the post office – someone mailed a rooster!

98.    Mailing family stories to my granddaughters.

99.    Quote: “There’s no point in me doing anything if I can’t write about it,” (David Sedaris)

100. Journey Groups. I’ve grown close to so many great men.

Podcasts I Listened to Regularly in 2022

       This is my current list of podcasts, the ones I listen to while driving my pickup, riding my bike, or running (well, nowadays, when I’m walking). This list changes regularly as my tastes and ideas change, and it doesn’t include a lot of excellent podcasts that I love but aren’t in my current rotation.

       Anyway, try these, and enjoy.

Akimbo, from Seth Godin … a podcast about our culture and how we can change it.

Alert & Oriented: Conversations about God between friends … from The Noble Heart Ministry

Ask Dr. E … your theological questions answered in ten minutes or less, by Michael Easley

The Art of Manliness … a podcast that helps men become better men.

Bear Mills podcast … Positive Christian messages from God's Word and life experiences by author and inspirational speaker Bear Mills.

Broken Record, with Rich Rubin and Malcolm Gladwell … audio liner notes from some of the most famous music and musicians

Bullseye, with Jesse Thorn … an NPR podcast featuring the best culture creators

Clear + Vivid with Alan Alda … spirited conversations with people who know how hard it is, and yet how good it feels, to really connect with other people – whether it’s one person, an audience or a whole country.

The Delta Flyers … episode by episode discussions about Star Trek Voyager, by Garrett Wang and Robert Duncan McNeill

Fresh Air … NPR program featuring intimate conversations with today’s biggest luminaries.

Hidden Brain … explores the unconscious patterns that drive human behavior and questions that lie at the heart of our complex and changing world

Mosaic … sermons by Erwin McManus, from the Mosaic Church in Los Angeles, CA

Radiolab … a podcast about science, philosophy, and ethics, from NPR

The Russell Moore Show … talks about the latest books, cultural conversations and pressing ethical questions that point us toward the kingdom of Christ

Science Friday … covering the broad field of science with long in-depth interviews

TED Interview … a space for guests to further delve into their groundbreaking work, give us a peek into how they discover and explore fascinating ideas, and, in some cases, even defend their thinking.

TED Talks Daily … talks from the smartest communicators in today’s world.

A Way with Words … a fun radio show and podcast about language, family, history, and culture.

Wild Ideas Worth Living … conversations with people who took the path less traveled and brought their wildest ideas to life, sponsored by REI.

WorkLife with Adam Grant … Organizational psychologist Adam Grant takes you inside the minds of some of the world’s most unusual professionals to explore the science of making work not suck.

99% Invisible … about the thought that goes into the things we don’t think about – the unnoticed architecture and design that shape our world.