Not Going, Again

      Cyndi and I, reluctantly, postponed our trip to Spain for the second time. The first time was last year during Spring Break when the Covid pandemic became real across the world, even in Midland, Texas.

      Our plan had been to spend about ten days hiking on the Camino de Santiago, the Way of Saint James. It’s a well-known pilgrimage that dates to the year 814, when someone discovered what was believed to be the tomb of the Apostle James.

      Even though the likelihood that the bones in Santiago de Compostela belonged to James, brother of John and the first of the twelve disciples to be martyred, is essentially zero, the discovery inspired a phenomenon. It wasn’t long before King Alfonso II of Asturias made the trek from Oviedo, his capital, west to Compostela to pay homage to this saint. Alfonso would be the very first pilgrim on the Way of St. James - a journey that drew penitents from across western Europe and made Compostela the third-holiest site in Christendom after Rome and Jerusalem.

      As for me, I’m not concerned whether the tomb contains the bones of Saint James, or any of that. However, I am interested in absorbing the spiritual energy from people who have been taking this path for 1,200 years.

      I like to immerse myself in an experience, whether that means a three-day solo backpacking trip, or reading twenty books by the same author. I want to dive in and see what I can learn beyond the obvious, knowing the experience will change me in ways I can’t predict or control.

      The word “pilgrim” comes from the Latin phrase per agrum, or “through the fields.” To be a Perigrinus was to be the fool who left the security of the village and wandered off, literally through the fields, into the wilderness. Pilgrimages – in my case they are usually long rides, hikes, or runs - deepen my relationship with God because I finally leave my mind and heart open long enough to hear God speak, comfort, remind, or encourage me.

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      Cyndi and I first heard about The Camino in 2012 when we watched the movie, The Way. (If you haven’t seen it, I recommend you put it near the top of your list.) We started telling each other we’d like to do the pilgrimage someday, and then in 2019 we started making plans. I researched several guide services, read books, and checked into the best season with the best weather conditions for an optimal hike.

      The month of May seemed to be the opportune time. The rainy season was over, and the European vacation season was still weeks away. So, we made plans to hike The Camino in May of 2020. But then, Covid. 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 this year, this spring, the Covid situation in Spain has been on the uptick, and we decided to delay another year. We’re not really worried about getting sick, after all these months; but we don’t want to risk being quarantined in some tiny town in Spain.

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      In his book, The Well-Played Life, Leonard Sweet posed a key question for what he calls the Third Age of Life (years 60-90) … “What should I do with the best years of my life?” I like this question. It paints the possibility of a brighter future. And, in fact, I do see these as the best years of our lives. We plan to hike the Camino in May 2022.

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