A Stranger in a Foreign Land

Well, I'm back. A day later than expected, due to a missed flight, but back home nonetheless. And. It. Is. Glorious.

I'm going to struggle to put words to the whole Camino experience (which is why there are about 100 pictures on facebook), but for starters, let me say that it is the truest pilgrimage that I have ever done.

Before I went to Ireland two years ago, I read Strannik: The Call to the Pilgrimage of the Heart, by Catherine Doherty. She reminds us that our entire lives are a journey back to Eden, back to union with God. We are never at home in this world. From our baptism, we are strangers and sojourners on the earth, walking always back toward Heaven. This was heavy on my mind as I began my trip. All my previous international travel had been organized through a company or tour group, and I'd always been able to speak English. This time would be different. This time, more so than any other time in my life, I felt like a true pilgrim.

I was without the comforts of home--my own food, clean clothes, my native language, my own space, the ability to use my phone--and I was on a challenging road--rain, cold, blisters, soreness. I had this intense feeling of not belonging, yet when I would walk into a church, feel the sun on my face, sip a cortado, go to sleep at night, I felt at home. It's a confusing place in which to be. And I think that's exactly what we're called to live here on earth.

We do not belong to this world. This is not our home; we will not be satisfied with earthly things. And thank goodness, too, because I don't know if you've noticed, but the world is kind of imploding. So we walk along these trails, not quite comfortable, longing for something more, and that's how it's supposed to be.

One of the greatest gifts of the Camino for me was that feeling of uneasiness, that sense that I was not at home, and the ability to apply that to my spiritual life. When I feel a little out of place, it's just a reminder that we are not home yet.

Buen Camino

In four short days, twinnie and I will embark on a journey of epic proportions--heading across the Atlantic to join in a pilgrimage hundreds of years old. The Camino de Santiago, or Way of St. James, began in the 9th century when the remains of the apostle were discovered in a field and a shrine was built on the site, drawing pilgrims from around the world.


Ignatius junkies that we are, we will also visit the monastery in Montserrat where he had a vision of the Blessed Mother during his conversion. Then we will take the overnight train up to Galicia with a plan to walk just over the last 100 miles of the Camino along the Via Frances (the French Way starts on the other side of the Pyrenees, but we don't have six weeks). I say that it's our plan because the one thing I hear from everyone who's done the Camino, besides that it's amazing, is that it doesn't quite go how you plan.


As we get down to the wire, I'll be honest, that part terrifies me. If you know me, you know that I'm a J to the max on the Myers-Briggs scale. I like planning, I like knowing what's going to happen, and even when I try not to have expectations, they sometimes have me. Two weeks of not only being in a foreign country with a foreign language, but also being on my feet, with minimal comforts of home, shared bunkrooms, at the mercy of whatever is in the next town--yeah, not a dream for a J. But, also very important to stretch myself, and a great opportunity to learn to trust and roll with the punches. Because, you may also know that I'm fixin' to be hitched this fall, and as I was told last week, "The Camino will be the perfect preparation for marriage".


They say the Camino is whatever God wants it to be for you at that time, and I think there is no better time for me to let go of control. That doesn't mean it will be easy, so please pray for me. We have decided that the benefits of unplugging outweigh the benefits of keeping our faithful readers updated, so no blog while we're gone, but I'll tell you all about it when we get home.