Camino de Santiago and Acceptance
In spring, a high school friend and I planned a fall trip to Spain to walk a portion of the Camino de Santiago. What started simply as an adventure together, morphed into a more symbolic and – dare I say – spiritual endeavor, as the trip drew near.
A few weeks before I was due to depart, Mark and I were sailing with our 45-pound rescue dog when I ruptured a disk while lifting Daisy into our dinghy (in case you weren’t sure, it was just as painful as it sounds). With the accident, plans for our sailing weekend blew out to sea, and deep dread about the viability of the Camino quickly came into view.
When I called the Camino folks, I was immediately unnerved by their response: “This must mean that it is not the time for you to make your Camino!” Their response embodied an ineffable acceptance of the situation. As I pondered this response – and contrasted it with my own interior monologue (“if this happens by X date then Y might be possible”) – I wondered if my desire to identify an obstacle’s “work around” is cultural or constitutional? In the end, the reason didn’t matter, only that acceptance is hard to come by.
Trish and I are not only high school friends from neighboring towns who drove the 45 minutes to/from school together, we also share the loss of sons, her Alex’s 25 years ago on November 23 and mine more recently. “Our” Camino was instead shared with one of Trish’s daughters (whom I adore, as I do her elder daughter). And that whiplash – from one plan to another – captures much about this journey towards acceptance. The road ahead contains unparalleled beauty, joyous moments among a community of fellow seekers, and challenges for which there is no “work around”. I am lucky to share the road with a great mentor, especially one with whom Hunter really loved to travel!
A silver lining does not always reveal itself immediately but sometimes, it is unmistakable. Unbeknownst to us, our spirited sailing partner, up-for-anything companion, canine BFF was suffering with an inoperable tumor, and my time in River Forest allowed us to share a 3 week “girls’ staycation” before she left us. It was divine and when Daisy departed, I said a silent prayer of thanks that she’d created a situation that allowed us to revel uninterrupted in one another’s company… in the car, on the couch, in the yard, on the patio and on the bed (shhh!). So, I guess, I believe that acceptance really can bring serenity… just gotta get there.