The Camino Memory Path

I’ve been thinking about the Camino a lot.

I am tempted to say, it’s abnormal how much I’ve been thinking about the Camino, but since the Camino is kind of an abnormal undertaking to begin with, who can say if the amount of afterthought is normal or not.

The point is, I’ve been thinking about the Camino.  A lot.

I was at work the other day and overheard someone speaking in French. It  reminded me of this French woman who stayed at the same alburgue in Murias de Rechivalda, and how she would say “Bonjour” to everyone with this really guttural sound, like she was trying to clear her throat or something.  Bon-JHOUR!

Which reminded me that the day we stayed at Murias de Rechivalda is the day I was really sick with stomach cramps and couldn’t walk because the pain was so bad. So we stopped at this bar, and the bartendar knew a German Reike master, who came and took me to her office, and she proceeded to do some reflexology on my feet, which was much more painful than I could ever have imagined.  At last she declared that I was “empty of energy” and needed to sleep, preferably in the sun.  So, Ann and I found a park bench and slept in the sun for an hour before deciding to stay in Murias de Rechivalda.

Which then reminded me of the other park benches and picnic tables that I utilized along the Camino for a quick naps and rest during the day, and then I rememberd the picnic area just past Logrono, next to a lake.  Despite the multitude of people out and about, enjoying the beautiful day, I had no problem falling fast asleep on a picnic bench, boots and socks off, resting my warm feet and body on the cool stone beneath.

That was the same day we ended up in Navarette. Navarette was a killer because the city is built on top of a hill, so after 13 miles on one of the hottest days in September, we found ourselves looking up at the town where we wanted to stay, facing who knows how many stone steps and a steep hill. And then when we finally arrived at the alburgue, the owner showed us to our room, which was on the top floor.  As Ann and I dragged our hot, tired bodies up the three flights of steps, the owner kept saying “Courage!”

Which makes me think of the phrase pilgrims sometimes say to each other, “Ultreya!” Which means, Courage! Specifically, I think it means “courage from God”, but I could be wrong. (Don’t tell me if I am wrong though, because I like to think that’s what it means.)

Ultreya! is what got me through my Camino. Ultreya! is what gets me through life, through faith, through all of my unknowns. Ultreya! is what I wish for every person reading this… for every person who needs to know that they can face whatever is in front of them.  COURAGE FROM GOD!

…Anyway, as I said, I think about the Camino a lot. I don’t know if it’s normal.  I don’t really care. I love that hearing someone speaking French can lead me down a path of memories and thoughts so beautiful and bittersweet that it takes a deep breath and a shake of the head to remember where I am… what I’m doing… where I’m going.

I had no idea that the Camino would continue to affect me so deeply, and in such random ways. It has almost become a game at this point, wondering what random word, or a vaguely familiar looking person or scene, might next propel me down the Camino Memory Path once again.

Don’t get me wrong… I’m thoroughly grateful for it. I love all the crazy memories that pop up, just because I’m holding something like a hard boiled egg in my hand. Boiled egg in Spanish is huevos duros, by the way, and it reminds me of the time I took a half dozen to a fancy hotel restaurant in the town of Castrojeriz and asked them if they would boil them for me while I ate dinner there………………….

But that’s a story for another time. For now, I’ll leave you with, ULTREYA! Whatever you are facing, whatever is weighing you down, may the Courage from God see you through.

Peace,
Luci

The Gift of Singleness

I’m single. And Valentine’s Day is coming up.

Normally, when these two things coincide, it makes for an interesting day: I wake up in the morning, remember that it’s Valentine’s Day, debate whether or not to wear something red, sincerely try and be happy for those who have found romantic love, and then try to ignore all the red and pink hearts and flowers and balloons around me.

In the evening, I might indulge in a Jane Austen adaptation, or some other cheesy, romantic movie, and eat an insane amount of Nestle Tollhouse chocolate chip cookie dough while lounging on my couch in my flannel pajamas.

And then comes the night. Tired from what can be an emotional day, and with visions of Mr. Darcy dancing in my head, Valentine’s night is when I really struggle. It’s when my brain kicks in, and I start questioning why I am single, wondering what life would be like if I weren’t single, and – hardest of all to admit – it is when I start blaming God for my singleness.

Doesn’t He hear my prayers? Isn’t He supposed to know my heart’s desire? How many times have I confessed to Him that my single greatest desire is to be in a committed, Christian marriage? Why wouldn’t He want that for me too?

Perhaps there is a better way to approach this “holiday.” Maybe my annual struggle doesn’t need to end so negatively? And, here’s a thought – Maybe God has it all under control anyway, and I should just give it up to Him?

A couple of weeks ago, I was reading Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians, and found the answers I desired. In chapter seven, verse seven, he says, “…God gives to some the gift of marriage, and to others the gift of singleness.”

The gift of singleness.

God has given me the gift of singleness! I never thought of my singleness as a gift before.

Here I have been wishing and hoping and praying for one gift, while not realizing that God has already given me another. It gives me a whole new appreciation for being single. And now I find myself looking forward to Valentine’s Day, not just for Mr. Darcy and cookie dough, but because it is an opportunity to celebrate my singleness and to thank God for His gift.

For those of you who have found your love, I congratulate you on your own gift of marriage.

And for all of the other singletons out there, I pray that you also enjoy this Valentine’s Day, and seize the gift you have been given!

Blessings,
Luci

25 Things About My Life with RP

For those of you not on Facebook, there is currently a “meme” going around where people share 25 random facts about themselves. After writing their list, they then “tag” 25 Facebook friends, asking them to complete it as well. All in all, it is a really cool way to learn some interesting, poignant, random, and entertaining facts about your friends.

Despite being tagged, I have held off completing this task, mostly because I wasn’t sure what to say. However, today I came up with a spin on idea that makes me excited to give it a go: Instead of writing 25 random/general things about me, I have decided to write 25 specific things about my life with Retinitis Pigmentosa (RP).

25 Things About My Life with RP

1. I have lost about 75% of my vision, mostly peripheral.
2. Night blindness is one side effect of RP. I cannot see anything in the dark. If it’s pitch black out and I only have a flashlight, I can only sort of see where the small beam of light is pointed.
3. My central vision is awesome. Contacts and glasses correct my central vision to 20/40.
4. I can still read small fonts without problem, but if I have the option I will usually select a larger font.
5. RP is totally frustrating in that it is completely unpredictable. My highly trained and specialized eye doctor has no way of knowing how much vision I will retain or lose, and at what rate or speed. I was told that I might have my central vision for 10, 20, or 30 years.
6. People have asked me what my lost vision “looks” like. I tell them that my lost vision isn’t replaced with anything like blackness or darkness… it’s just like a void, or a hole, or an interruption in my visual field. Where ever there is a “hole” in my visual field, my remaining vision just sort of fades into and out of the emptiness.
7. I can only see very bright stars in places with low light pollution. One of my favorite activities is to have a friend try and point out stars for me.
8. I LOVE fireworks. I pretend they are stars.
9. Dimly-lit restaurants are an obstacle course for me. Most times I can get by with just following the waiter or companion to the table (I dodge where they dodge, I step where they step, etc.). If it’s too dark, then I’ll ask to take a friend’s arm.
10. I have had a couple of people try “test” me, to see if I am faking my vision loss.
11. I have unintentionally knocked over, or run into, the following items because of my vision loss: a chair, fire hydrant, stool, table, car, Wet Floor signs, directional signs, dogs, cats, and children.
12. Quiet, stealthy children should be encouraged to wear little, tinkling bells at all times. Either that or carry Tic-Tacs with them.
13. I am adamant about getting to movies early because I hate walking in when the theater is dark.
14. I have to sit far away from the movie screen, in order to get as much of it into my central vision as possible.
15. Bright light hurts my eyes.
16. Cloudy days can be just as bright as sunny days sometimes.
17. If I am sitting in a dark restaurant, facing a bright window, I will ask to move, or change seats with someone because it hurts my eyes to look into the bright light.
18. I prefer to sit in seats where the light is directly behind me, thus illuminating everything in front of me.
19. It takes a minute or two for my eyes to adjust if I go from dark to light, or vice versa. For this reason, I will often stop right when I walk into a building from outside. Or I will put on sunglasses right before I exit a building, if I know it is bright outside.
20. I could probably create a whole separate list of “25 things” just for my favorite “visual delights” (things that will make me stop and stare). Examples include: sunlight on water (fountains, ocean, lakes, etc.); rainbows; seeing the world from a plane; shadows; falling leaves; artwork; etc.
21. One of the most randomly specific visual delights that I can think of can be found at Jupiter’s bar in CU: the reflection of the pool table light on the wood benches is just BEAUTIFUL. I love it. It’s a rainbow of color.
22. I have a hard time not stopping and explaining to every confused person I see what RP is, and why I might need a cane to get from one location to another, but can then read a book once I get there.
23. I am still figuring out where and when I should use my cane. For now, I mostly just use it when I am alone, and/or in crowded or unfamiliar places. I definitely use it if I am alone and it’s dark.
24. I am currently struggling with when to tell prospective employers about my vision loss. Do I tell them before they offer me a job? When they offer me a job? After I am hired? Or should I stay silent?
25. My vision loss has been a HUGE blessing to me. It has led me to a wonderful relationship with God. It allows me to appreciate “visual delights.” It helps me to enjoy the small things in life.

That was more fun that I thought it would be! I hope you enjoyed reading it as well. If anyone would be interested in reading a “25 Things About the Camino de Santiago” one, let me know. Now that I have the hang of this, I’m thinking it might be fun to try again…

One Word Meme

Answer each question with only one word:

1. Your cell phone? old
2. Your significant other? unknown
3. Your hair? clean
4. Your favorite thing? Agapē
5. Your dream last night? blank
6. Your favorite drink? water
7. Your dream/goal? Agapē
8. What room you are in? den
9. Your hobby? walking
10. Your fear? fear
11. Where do you want to be in 6 years? happy
12. Where were you last night? home
13. Muffins? chocolate?
14. Wish list item? JOB
15. Where you grew up? midwest
16. Last thing you did? church
17. What are you wearing? warm
18. Your TV? new
19. Your pets? imaginary
20. Your friends? missed
21. Your life? transition
22. Your mood? thoughtful
23. Missing someone? yes
24. Car? gone
25. Something you’re not wearing? uniform
26. Your favorite store? REI
27. Your favorite color? blue
28. Last time you laughed? yesterday
29. Last time you cried? week
30. Who will resend this? unknown
31. One place that I go to over and over? God
32. One person who emails me regularly? ads
33. Favorite place to eat? Indian
34. Why did you participate in this survey? fun
35. What are you doing tonight? movie

Trying to answer with only one word was fun! Give it a try and let me know what your list looks like.

Practicing Patience

“Don’t be impatient for the Lord to act!
Travel steadily along his path.”
–Psalm 37:7

Patience. I am trying so hard to be patient. I want so much to be patient.

The Camino is over. My time of rest and reflection following the Camino is ending. I am ready to move on. I want to move on. But to what? Where?

“Show me the path where I should walk, O Lord;
Point out the right road for me to follow.”
–Psalm 25:4

Patience…

Waiting in Hopeful Anticipation

Hope. Peace. Joy. Love. . . Preparation. Anticipation. Waiting. . .
All words describing Advent season, one of my favorite times of year. This Advent, I have been spending a lot of time thinking about what it means to “wait in hopeful anticipation.”

During my post-Camino time at home, I have been feeling a little lost about what I should do next with my life. It feels counter-cultural to do so much sitting and resting and relaxing, but, at the same time, I really enjoy it. It is a wonderful and rare blessing to be given such a “time out” from the busyness of every day life.

This past weekend I took another pilgrimage of sorts, this one was by train, back to my old hometown and friends and church family. Over the course of the weekend, through wonderful conversations, I began to see that it was okay to be right where I am: waiting in hopeful anticipation.

I don’t know what I want to do next, and that is okay because I haven’t felt God give me that direction yet. Instead, what God has given me is this time of rest, this time of peace. Waiting in and of itself is an active thing, and waiting with hope, or in hopeful anticipation, of my future and the unknown is what Advent is all about.

I recently read the following on the daily devotional website “D365.org”:

As people of faith, we know that waiting is central to our journey with God. Throughout history, the faithful have had to patiently wait for the One whose sense of time is not the same as ours. Amidst our waiting, whether patiently or impatiently, we hear the reassuring words of hope from the prophet Isaiah that
God works for those who wait.
–Brian Prior, November 30, 2008, http://www.followingthestar.org/

To those of you reading this who find themselves in a similar place of unknowing and waiting, I offer you the encouragement and peace that comes with this Season of Advent:

May you dare to HOPE:

“Yet I still dare to hope when I remember this: The faithful love of the Lord never ends! His mercies never cease. Great is his faithfulness; his mercies begin afresh each morning.”  –Lamentations 3:21-26

May you feel the PEACE that transcends all understanding:

“Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”  –Philippians 4:6-7

May your heart be filled with JOY:

“The Lord is my strength and shield. I trust him with all my heart. He helps me, and my heart is filled with joy.”  –Psalm 28:7

And may you always know the LOVE of God that is yours through Jesus:

“No power in the sky above or in the earth below—indeed, nothing in all creation will ever be able to separate us from the love of God that is revealed in Christ Jesus our Lord.”  –Romans 8:39

When we embrace that “the steadfast love of the Lord never ceases,” we are able to wait
in patient hopefulness.
–Brian Prior, December 6, 2008, http://www.followingthestar.org/

Rhythm and Repose

It’s hard to believe that a month ago today, on October 23, I arrived in Santiago de Compostela.

I miss the Camino. I miss the walking, the meditation, and the prayer. The physical pain I struggled with has faded in memory, leaving only pleasant thoughts of endless hours in deep spiritual contemplation…

I think I actually miss the meseta most… the long, shadeless stretches between towns… the sound of my step, the movement of my poles, the rhythm of the walk… all lulling me into a prayerful trance of love, peace, and joy…

Sometimes, when I close my eyes and quiet my mind, I can feel it again. I can feel the rhythm of my walk… my feet and shoulders all moving to the beat of some drum deep within me whispering: left… right… left… right…

It’s amazing how that rhythm comforts me, quickly transporting me to the spiritual calm that I now know resides within.

Not all days are rhythm and repose, however. Since I have been home, I have struggled to maintain any kind of rhythm or routine. One day slips into another and before I know it, the weekend is here again.

I thought I would love this. I thought I would love the freedom from everything, and attachment to nothing. I admit, it has been nice to have the downtime, but I am not “lurving” it. It is just “okay.” Mostly though, as the days start to blend together, I realize that life is slipping away. MY life is slipping away.

What happened to the woman who was so excited to be living THIS life? MY life? She’s still here. Somewhere.

I admit, I kind of went into a semi-coma there after returning home from the Camino. I think I just needed time to SIT. But now… now I just feel lazy. Sloth-like, you might even say.

I miss rhythm… routine… I miss having a plan, a purpose. What am I doing with my life????

This morning I had a chance to think about all of this. If I could live any kind of life, what would it look like? What are my priorities? What brings me happiness? What does my heart truly desire? What do I want more than anything else in the world? If I could create the best possible life for me, what would it look like?

The answers I came up with did not necessarily surprise me. What surprised me was my immediate excitement and willingness to make changes to achieve those goals. It was as if something finally clicked inside, and I realized that if I did X, Y, and Z, then I might actually achieve that “best life” I had dreamed about. How exciting is that?

So, I am making choices and it feels good. But what feels really good is knowing that all of these choices are leading (God-willing) to a good and happy life. My life. A life of rhythm and repose.

Four Years Ago Today

Four years ago today I choose to stop driving because of my vision loss, caused by Retinitis Pigmentosa.

On November 12, 2004, I had an annual appointment with my ophthalmologist. At the appointment, my doctor asked me the usual questions about how my vision was doing. Then he paused, and asked me if I was still driving.

I responded, “Oh yes! I had a great drive in today. It’s a beautiful day out and…”

The look on my doctor’s face stopped me mid-sentence. At that moment I knew that it was time for me to stop driving.

People with RP, or slow vision loss, often wonder how they are supposed to know when it is time to “hang up the keys.” I always knew that the day would come when I would have to stop driving, but I didn’t know when, or how I was going to make that decision. I didn’t want to sell myself short and cut off that independence too soon, but I also didn’t want to endanger myself or others. It’s a fine line. A very fine line.

So when that day came, and I saw the look on my doctor’s face, I think it confirmed what I already knew, but I couldn’t seem to decide for myself. It took the authority figure of my doctor to help me realize the potential danger I was putting myself and others in.

So I choose to stop. Right then and there. Cold turkey. I didn’t even drive home from the appointment. The look on my doctor’s face hit me that hard. Plus, I knew myself well enough to know that if I didn’t quit cold turkey, then that “fine line” would always be blurred. I might always be tempted to drive “just one more time.”

Quitting driving was the most difficult decision I have ever had to make. To consciously give up that independence was devastating. Absolutely devastating. As melodramatic as this is going to sound, I really didn’t know how I was going to survive.

In addition, at the appointment, my doctor told me that the flashes of light I had been seeing inside my eyes since my high school years, were cells dying. Every flash of light was more vision lost. I had no idea. I mean, I figured it had something to do with my Retinitis Pigmentosa, but I didn’t realize that it was literally cells dying. I could no longer deny that I was losing my vision; the flashes in my eyes wouldn’t let me.

My loss of independence from driving devastated me, but it was my inability to hide from my vision loss that really shattered me. I felt broken, and incapable of doing anything to fix the situation or myself. So I did the only thing I could think to do: I turned to God.

At this point in my faith, I was still loosely drawing the boundary lines of what I believed and what I didn’t. I wasn’t sure what would happen when I turned to God, I just knew that it felt like my only option. I was that depressed and hopeless.

So I prayed, and I asked people in my church community to pray for me. Later, I found out that people in my church then asked others to pray too. People I didn’t even know where praying for me, trying to help me overcome the loss of independence that driving once provided me, and also to help me accept my impending vision loss. It was humbling, to say the least.

Months passed. Grief lingered over the winter, despite the help and support of my amazing family, friends and church community. But then, slowly, the following summer, the veil started to lift. And one morning, I woke up, and I just knew that it was all going to be okay. The grief was gone. Just like that.

And so here I am, four years later. It’s amazing how things can change in such a short amount of time. I no longer feel devastated or shattered by my vision loss. Rather, I consider it one of the biggest blessings of my life because, ironically, in the end, my vision loss is what opened my eyes to the power of God. And for that I will always be grateful.

Do I miss driving? Of course. I used to love taking the “Magic Bean” (the name of my 1996 Honda Civic Hatchback) on road trips. Highway driving was my favorite: a long stretch of road, music on the radio, and the wind in my hair. And, I miss the convenience of driving and owning a car. If I forgot something at the store, I could just zoom out and get it.

But I no longer feel hopeless without it. Thanks to my family, my friends, and the various means of transportation (rail, air, bus, not to mention my own two legs), I have options. And, I think that is one of the hardest things about vision loss: Something is taken away from you without your consent, and it is difficult to remember that you still have options. You still have choices. You can still have independence.

I feel particularly grateful to my family and friends, who have helped me understand this. Thank you for mourning with me, when I needed to grieve. And thank you for supporting and encouraging me as I took those first few timid steps back into my newly found independence.

Because of your support and encouragement, those first few baby steps eventually led to me walking across Spain.

Who knows what other adventures still await.

Blessings,
Luci

Camino Updates

I have updated a few of the Camino pages listed on the right hand side, under “Additional Information.”

I added photos to “Camino Food,” updated “Camino Gear,” and added “Camino Waymarks.” I also wrote a new blog entry called “Camino Q&A.” Enjoy!

If you are planning on walking the Camino and have any questions, just let me know. I’m happy to help!

Camino Q&A

I have received a lot of questions about the Camino and I thought I would put them in writing. If you have additional questions, just let me know!

Q: What kind of news do you get about home? Anything about the upcoming election, or are you like “it can wait.”

A: We actually didn’t get a lot of news while on the Camino. One day we stopped at a bar and we saw Bush on Spanish news with the words $700 Billion, and we knew something big was going on. It wasn’t until I got back though that I really learned what “The Bailout” was all about. That was the extent of the US news we received. Incidentally, Spain received some major flooding in their southern regions while we were there, and so we did see some coverage of that.

Q: Do you and Ann dine mostly alone or with others?

A: Breakfast and lunch was usually with just the two of us. As for dinners… I’d say at the beginning of the Camino the two of us ate alone, but near the end of the Camino we usually had dinner with other pilgrims we met along the way.

Q: What do people most want to know about you when you meet them (after they find out you are American and don’t speak much Spanish)?

A: Conversation among pilgrims usually revolves around three things: 1) Distance (kilometers walked that day, since we started the Camino, and remaining until Santiago). 2) Foot health (how many blisters and how big). And 3) Snoring. (It amazing how many different types of snoring there are.)

When you start to get to know other pilgrims, conversations will then go a little deeper and you find out a little more about each other. But for the most part, those three topics dominate pilgrim conversations. (And, yes, it does get old.)

Q: Are you up front with them about your night-blindness and “low vision” or do you wait to talk about it until they bring it up?

A: I only ended up telling a handful of people about my vision loss. It’s not that I was trying to hide it, it’s just that often times there really wasn’t a point to bringing it up. Most people we met we only saw a handful of times and conversations wouldn’t go that “deep.” Or, an opportunity to share just never came up.

Q: Has your vision been a problem more so on the Camino vs. if you had just stayed home, or is it about the same kind of challenge still?

A: In essence, vision loss is a challenge no matter where you are. However, trying to traverse 400 miles of sometimes very rocky and uneven surfaces definitely presented a greater challenge than simply walking around the house, where I have already identified furniture, steps and other hazards.

I think it’s fair to say that familiar surroundings are always going to be preferred by anyone with vision loss, but that doesn’t mean that they should never venture out. What kind of life would that be?

Q: Have you felt safe most of the time, or are you being very conscious of where your money and bags are all the time, etc., and watching your back always out of the corner of your eye?

A: Ann and I were amazed at how safe we each felt while walking the Camino. That said, you should always be aware of your surroundings, and keep an eye on your possessions.

Pilgrims walking the Camino are protected by Spanish law. Offenses committed against them are taken very seriously. Sitting here now, I cannot remember a time when I felt any kind of danger. Some local people may not like all of the pilgrims constantly coming through their towns, but I never felt like I was ever in any kind of harm’s way.

Honestly, if I didn’t have vision loss and need some assistance on that front, I would feel comfortable walking the Camino by myself, a single woman.

Q: Is the Camino crowded? How many people are on it at the same time as you? Do you and Ann walk alone or find a group to walk with? Do people pass you up and walk faster?

A: There were some days that the Camino felt like a highway. We would climb to the top of a hill and look down the other side and see people all along the road. Other days, we wouldn’t run into anyone. Most days though, we would see a handful or people when they passed us. We were almost always the slowest people walking. Also, for the most part, Ann and I walked separately, each lost in our own thoughts.

Q: Would you do it again?

A: Ah, the million dollar question. When I first started walking, I often wondered why anyone would come back and do it a second, third, or more times. About two-thirds of the way through though, I began to understand why.

The Camino is unlike anything else in the world. It is a safe, reasonably affordable, well-marked journey that provides a unique opportunity to disconnect – from the world, from problems, from people, etc. Everyone I met on the Camino seemed to be at some sort of crossroads in their life.

The Camino was much tougher physically than I was prepared for. Low vision and aching feet made each day challenging. Also, the alburgues became as much of a challenge for me as the walking. Because of my vision loss, I was never fully able to relax when I stayed in an alburgue. I would always have to be on high alert, looking out for boots and backpacks and other gear. Plus, I’m an introvert and I never got the “alone time” I needed at the end of the day.

But then there were the spiritual highs I experienced during the walking day, the times when I was able to transcend any physical or emotional issues I was having and focus solely on God. During those times, I never wanted the Camino to end.

So, would I do it again?

Yes.

I can’t believe I just wrote that. But, yes. I would walk it again. Now that I’m back at home, and the physical pain has subsided, I keep thinking about the time I spent in prayer with God. It was amazing and unlike anything I had ever experienced. It alone was worth every step.