And sometimes freshly washed laundry tussled in the wind are the most beautiful thing ever.

But you, beloved, building yourselves up in your most holy faith and praying in the Holy Spirit, keep yourselves in the love of God, waiting for the mercy of our Lord Jesus Christ that leads to eternal life. Jude 20-21

Spiritually we are in God, in The Lord, at home in God. Our true identity is that we are God's children. It is from that perspective-God's perspective- that we perceive the world. We are called to see the world as God sees it; that is what theology is all about. Therefore, we are continually diagnosing the illusory quality of anything outside that perspective. The Road to Peace

Now I know that it is not I that pray, but the Spirit of God who prays in me. Indeed, when God's glory dwells in me, there is nothing too far away, nothing too painful, nothing too strange or too familiar that it cannot contain and renew by its touch. Every time I recognize the glory of God in me and give it space to manifest itself to me, all that is human can be brought there and nothing will be the same again. Once in a while I just know it: of course God hears my prayer. God prays in me and touches the whole world with love right here and now. At those moments all questions about "the social relevance of prayer, etc" seem dull and very unintelligent, and the silent prayer of the monks one of the few things that keeps some sanity in this world. Henri Nouwen, The Genesee Diary

Yesterday is the first time I remember when I asked someone if I could pray for her, she said no. She isn't very religious, so I said that I would hold her in my heart as I rode. And I did. And last night she found us and is sleeping in the same little cabin as we are in this crazy packed-full campsite that laughed and shouted way past the posted silence hours of midnight. And she is seeking quiet in her head. And has the biggest 38 kilo pile of stuff on her bike imaginable. May Abba Father be her rest.

And I don't understand prayer. But the LORD God Creator of the Universe does, and He told us to pray without ceasing.

 We are a pretty tired little team, but happy. I guess that is the thing about doing something hard, is that it is hard, but hopefully things are going on deep within each of us because of this experience. Moving beyond being tourists in this life of ours, into being pilgrims, with His perspective.

May I practice His presence all day long, up and down, press in, release.

...

And it was a press in sort of day, but glorious. His glory. His glory gleaming like one of Nicole's disco balls, brilliant, around and around. And sure there were a couple more flat tires and a little wandering from the path, and there were no clouds to run interference from the sun, but so many moments of joy, the conversation with the couple from New Zealand whose jazz musician daughter just moved to Tucson, with the pilgrim family on bicycles from Mexico, D.F., the nice guy who drove Tracy and her bike around and me and my bike around, whose son just got accepted to Berkeley. And Leo from Italy and Paulina from Spain and Nolin from Italy too as we sit in the sun watching our freshly scrubbed clothes wave in the sun. And share our groceries. And Celtic tunes are on someone's iTouch, which is perfect.

And once again, God's conversation with me has a lot to do with He is God. Trustworthy. Powerful. Faithful. And full of love for me His daughter.  And for the world. Each one His child. And may I speak His love, clearly and finishing my sentences. And the Korean guy sitting in the sun next to me and eating his vegetables doesn't know why he has been walking the Camino for fifty-three days. But His Father does; His Father who knows him by name.

Beyond the world of smooshed, half-eaten eegee subs.

"Come unto me," Jesus said, "all you who are weary and find life burdensome, and I will refresh you. Take my yoke upon your shoulders and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble of heart. Your soul will find rest, for My yoke is easy, and my burden light." Matthew 11:29-30

Here the deeper meaning of prayer becomes manifest to pray is to unite ourselves with Jesus and lift up the whole world through Him to go in, cry for forgiveness, reconciliation, healing and mercy. To pray, therefore, is to connect whatever human struggle or pain we encounter - whether starvation, torture, displacement of peoples, or any form of physical and mental anguish - with the . gentle and humble heart of Jesus

Prayer is leading every sorrow to the source of all healing; it is letting the warmth of Jesus' love melt the cold anger of resentment; it is opening a space where joy replaces sadness, mercy supplant bitterness, love displaces fear, gentleness and care overcomes hatred and indifference. But most of all, prayer is the way to become and remain part of Jesus' mission to draw all people to the intimacy of God's love. Henri Nouwen, "Prayer Embraces the World"

Freedom. Joy. Love. Vocation.

So pretty early this morning I met with Jack and Mary Anne on their back porch and they prayed for me.

Prayer is leading every sorrow to the source of all healing 

And a year ago before I even had a tiniest clue as to what El Camino was all about, and I was just planning on taking a little sip to get a clue of what this year's promised trip would be like, Marco said to me, "Christy, everyone does El Camino for a reason. Why are you going?" I paused. And paused some more. And the answer that came out from deep within was, "I want God to heal my broken heart."

And Mary Anne said that this was the year of Cracking the Coconut Shell surrounding my heart, breaking it all open to His light. And this morning she prayed for freedom, joy, love, and a clear sense of His calling.

So Mr. Gentle And Humble Brandon and I found ourselves in a pretty stunned silence as we clicked on our seat belts. Beyond just our low grade panic of watching our packed bike boxes roll out of sight. Pretty crazy stuff. But really what could be better? Throwing ourselves into His mercy, totally and completely. To slip on His yoke and head down the path ahead.

And LAX was filled with the human struggle, in each and every face, and each and every hand clasping a rolling carry-on or hefting a thoroughly taped cardboard box or flipping nervously through an iPhone. And we sat next to the very hip Cuban guy with orange pants who grew up in Miami but is now a voiceover actor in Los Angeles and he talked about his grandfather who wrote one of the drafts of the UN's Bill of Human Rights. Which Gustavo found ironic considering his grandfather was a Cuban with no human rights. And I wept through the final snippets of the movie Still Alice as I watched the actress ask my dad's confused question, "I used to be smart, didn't I?" And then we all told some miracle stories. May God be glorified.

Brandon and I finished what was left of his subway sandwich because I kinda forgot to bring trail mix, carrot sticks and granola bars, so I am drinking lots of Mott's 100% tomato juice which is almost like eating something, and if we can make it to Miami, British Airways promises an unending flight of food to London. Which is a lot better than an unending and relentlessly mindless tastes of pop culture as captured by NBC television on our back-of-the-seat-screens. I am discovering that food is going to a big theme when one travels with two sixteen-year-old boys, even before the bicycle factor.

Which should be vivid imagery for those hungering and thirsting metaphors.

Yes, Lord Jesus, I come unto Thee. Hungry and thirsty. For freedom from indifference, joy rather than sadness, and Your loving presence which casts out all fear. And, Lord, may my yearning be to be one with You, united into Your mission to draw all peoples into the intimacy of Your love, because Your cross has torn down the thick stifling curtain which separated us all from You.

Selah.

Ya basta.

Come, let us bow down, and bend the knee, and kneel before the LORD our Maker. For He is our God, and we are the people of His pasture and the sheep of His hand. Psalm 95:6-7

So I have told the Camino story to my ninth graders twice this week as a lead into our next step in the Hero Journey begun by Odysseus, spurred on by a couple of emails from Antonio, the guy who threw his crutches down and ran across to kneel in the road. 

And there was a lot of kneeling in that most transformational of days, passing through the abyss of self and into His love. Kneeling in the back of the humble parish church, kneeling by a park bench outside the café shop, kneeling in the plaza outside the big cathedral and this kneeling in the middle of a mountain highway, seeking wisdom and truth for the next step.

And yesterday afternoon Shelly demonstrated the love of the Shepherd God who reaches out His hands to both sides of my face and holds my squirmy self still. Look at Me. Stop. Listen. Enough. Basta.

Come, let me bow down, and bend the knee, and kneel before the LORD my Maker.

Selah.

Resting up high like this clears my vision

You are the LORD; do not withhold your compassion from me; let Your love and Your faithfulness keep me safe for ever,

Open, Lord, my eyes that I may see. Open, Lord, my ears that I may hear. Open, Lord, my heart and my mind that I may understand. So shall I turn to You and be healed.

So, one never knows who seeing eyes may notice. I pretty much thought this around-the-golf-course stroll was going to be about me snuggling in closer to the heartbeat of Jesus, the Rabbi. But it wasn’t. Well, kind of not.

The essence of sin lies in the enormity of our self-centeredness. –Brennan Manning

And as I wandered through the beauty of quaking sun-filled leaves and a lazy hawk circling over million-dollar mansions, what I heard was cry for compassion. A cry of brokenness from somewhere close, but not so close. Somewhere over there.

And Chris our pastor is doing a series on why we belong to Church. But he has not even begun to touch on the hands and feet of it all. The walking where Jesus walked among the broken and aching and the crying. And the reaching out and touching in His name.

Because one of the lessons I learned on El Camino was in reaching out and healing, I was healed. And I didn’t even notice the exact moment when the riveting pain was lifted because my eyes were off of me and looking at His children. And my ears were attune to His sweet voice. And what I do understand is that it is pretty simple: Follow Me. 

Turn and follow me, and you will be healed.

And suddenly, the repeating refrain from last night’s vespers are clear, when earlier I pretty much just momentarily puzzled and pushed it aside: Let the sorrowful sighing of the prisoners come before You, and by your great might spare those who are condemned to die.

May I draw close to the prisoners’ sighs in Your name. And by Your great might may they be spared and enter into Your compassionate love and faithfulness.

Speak Lord, for Your servant is listening.

Free, free indeed.

…one day you realized that what you wanted
had already happened, and long ago and in the dwelling place
in which you lived before you began,
and that every step along the way, you had carried
the heart and the mind and the promise,
that first set you off and then drew you on, and that
you were more marvelous in your simple wish to find a way
than the gilded roofs of any destination you could reach...

Excerpt from ‘Santiago’
From Pilgrim: Poems by David Whyte

Happy are they that mourn, for they will be comforted

Porque las armas de nuestra contienda no son carnales, sino poderosas en Dios para la destrucción de fortalezas;  destruyendo especulaciones y todo razonamiento altivo que se levanta contra el conocimiento de Dios, y poniendo todo pensamiento en cautiverio a la obediencia de Cristo, 2 Corintios 10, 4-5

We destroy arguments and every lofty opinion raised against the knowledge of God, and take every thought captive to obey Christ. 2 Corinthians 10:4-5

Let your loving-kindness, O LORD, be upon us, as we have put our trust in you. Psalm 33:22

He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High, abides under the shadow of the Almighty. Psalm 91:1

Jesus taught us, saying: ‘Peace I bequeath to you, my own peace I give you, a peace which the world cannot give, this is my gift to you. Do not let your hearts be troubled or afraid. John 14:27

I was driving to swimming this morning, thinking about all those years I had the "taking every thought captive" verse taped to my windshield. Maybe I need to do that again. I sure know I wake up every morning ducking flaming darts.

So I just stumbled across my notes from the first few days of Potter's Wheel, dutifully transcribed before I knew that God was going to take out those big fat adobe walls I had been praying about all these years. And it is sort of stunning how spot on the teaching was before I was even aware of what lie ahead.

I get it.

He is faithful with Hie little yellow arrows pointing the way, even if it looks like I am headed into a pricker bush or straight up a cobblestoned path.

I get it.

Right now it is all about obeying Christ, even if I have no clue what lies around the curve up ahead.

He is faithful.

Those yellow boingy cords are pretty tempting

Venid a mí todos los que estáis trabajados y cargados, y yo os haré descansar. Mateo 11,28

Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light. Matthew 11:29-30

 Already I can start to feel the hard uncompromising compromisos of life settle in around my shoulders. The shifting, the adjusting, the complicated weight is pressing in.

It sort of reminds me of Nicole's bicycle on El Camino.

She likes weight. So she said, so we loaded it on: a tent, two sleeping bags, spare tires, patches and glue, a bike pump, Powerbars, the medical kit and toothbrushes, sunscreen, five or six books, flashlights, bathing suits and googles and caps, electronics and accompanying chargers and cords, journals and pens, layers of biking clothes, cute dresses just in case, jackets, a ziplock bag of Grandpa's Bibles, and, hey why not, an inflatable air mattress.

But the thing about Nicole is that she knows her stuff. Really this little Camino was a walk in the park compared to all those years of training in frigid Chicago.

I, on the other hand, do not. No pretending at all that I was capable, knowledgable, skilled, strong, independent...nothing. Just me and I my little water bottle peddling as close as I could to try and catch her draft.

And Jesus sounds a lot like Nicole: Hey mom, don't worry about a thing. I will take care of it all. Just do what I say, and you will be fine, Jes' fi-un, like Grandpa always used to say.

Why in the world would I try and sneak out and strap a few extra concerns and troubles onto my bike? Or pack away a few parcels or rocks?

Learn from Me, who am gentle and lowly in heart, and I will give you rest for your soul.

Selah.