Este con nosotros Jehovah nuestro Dios, como estuvo con nuestros padres. 1 Reyes 8, 57
A fin de que no os hagais perezosos, sino imitadores de aquellos que por la fe y la paciencia heredan las promesas. Hereros 6, 12
Ven, Señor Jesucristo, prepara nuestro Camino, las puertas nos ha abierto ya.
Whether I am curving up or down the road, the one clear thing is that I have absolutely no idea what lies ahead, except for His presence.
And He is revealed and glorified, whether it is the creation declaring His power, creativity and beauty, whether it is the abundantly kind image-bearer offering a fill-up of the water bottle and some directions, or whether it is His comfort and peace and strength to head up yet another steep incline.
Well...not so much time for writing, eh?
But we are filled with joy that we have this opportunity to experience Him in ways never imagined...we had no previous understanding of this stretch of Spain beyond the imagination, the kind sacrifice of each person we meet on the way, and a peace that passes understanding.
Last night, Nicole and I hunkered down in our monastery cell after a meal of sausage, cheese, bread and wine, and tried to track the details of the past three days so it doesn't blur into blazing smear of color, but it sort of already has.
I imagine we will be doing more hostels, and not camping, which is good because we hope to have conversations with these people from France and Belgium and Hungary and Yugoslavia and Spain and Ireland. And, well, our little tent from Deniz was stolen from our bags from the first hostel. Someone must have needed it more than us. Or, perhaps it was an answer to Nicole's request to have lighter bags.
Just yesterday we wove through the morning traffic of Bilboa after spending the night in a hostel way way way on top of the mountain, crossed the river on a hanging bridge, road along the water on sort of flat terrain as a gift to momma for 10 km, climbed up and up the highway for another 20 km, then cut off onto the Pilgrims' Way, a slightly paved path through ancient farming villages up and down, until we took a small break in heaps of flowers. Then, well, down, down, down into a beautiful beach town and we swam in the icy waves. Next we did a bout of mountain biking along a grassy path along the cliffs, cut back at last to the main highway up and down, up and down, up and down, and into beautiful Toredo. We are going to try and find a bus or train here, and cut a few days off our trip; I will do better in the long run with 50 or 60 km a day rather than the 80 or 90 projected. These twelve hour days, well, are a lot. A great deal of time is spent back and forth, seeking the Way.
Those little yellow arrows are such an encouragement. Someone has also traveled this path.
The sisters are here with breakfast.
So..we ended up riding with a Spanish guy with great maps...58 km pretty much downhill...to Santander...going to take a train to cut 100 km off the Way... So it becomes more how we do it instead of that we do it.
A fin de que no os hagais perezosos, sino imitadores de aquellos que por la fe y la paciencia heredan las promesas. Hereros 6, 12
Ven, Señor Jesucristo, prepara nuestro Camino, las puertas nos ha abierto ya.
Whether I am curving up or down the road, the one clear thing is that I have absolutely no idea what lies ahead, except for His presence.
And He is revealed and glorified, whether it is the creation declaring His power, creativity and beauty, whether it is the abundantly kind image-bearer offering a fill-up of the water bottle and some directions, or whether it is His comfort and peace and strength to head up yet another steep incline.
Well...not so much time for writing, eh?
But we are filled with joy that we have this opportunity to experience Him in ways never imagined...we had no previous understanding of this stretch of Spain beyond the imagination, the kind sacrifice of each person we meet on the way, and a peace that passes understanding.
Last night, Nicole and I hunkered down in our monastery cell after a meal of sausage, cheese, bread and wine, and tried to track the details of the past three days so it doesn't blur into blazing smear of color, but it sort of already has.
I imagine we will be doing more hostels, and not camping, which is good because we hope to have conversations with these people from France and Belgium and Hungary and Yugoslavia and Spain and Ireland. And, well, our little tent from Deniz was stolen from our bags from the first hostel. Someone must have needed it more than us. Or, perhaps it was an answer to Nicole's request to have lighter bags.
Just yesterday we wove through the morning traffic of Bilboa after spending the night in a hostel way way way on top of the mountain, crossed the river on a hanging bridge, road along the water on sort of flat terrain as a gift to momma for 10 km, climbed up and up the highway for another 20 km, then cut off onto the Pilgrims' Way, a slightly paved path through ancient farming villages up and down, until we took a small break in heaps of flowers. Then, well, down, down, down into a beautiful beach town and we swam in the icy waves. Next we did a bout of mountain biking along a grassy path along the cliffs, cut back at last to the main highway up and down, up and down, up and down, and into beautiful Toredo. We are going to try and find a bus or train here, and cut a few days off our trip; I will do better in the long run with 50 or 60 km a day rather than the 80 or 90 projected. These twelve hour days, well, are a lot. A great deal of time is spent back and forth, seeking the Way.
Those little yellow arrows are such an encouragement. Someone has also traveled this path.
The sisters are here with breakfast.
So..we ended up riding with a Spanish guy with great maps...58 km pretty much downhill...to Santander...going to take a train to cut 100 km off the Way... So it becomes more how we do it instead of that we do it.
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