This Blog

I’ve been giving some thought to this blog.

With the end of the Camino, and the return to a full-time job, my blog has suffered from my lack of attention. But not lack of love.

I feel grateful for the memories and photos stored on these virtual pages. I love that on any given day, I can go to this website and click on a date from my pilgrimage and immediately be drawn right back onto the Camino path. In addition, I appreciate the outlet this blog has provided as I work through thoughts on faith, life, and vision loss.

Sometimes I wonder if it’s too much, having a blog that talks about such specific and different topics – the Camino, my faith, my vision loss, etc. – all in one place.  Would it be better if to have separate blogs for each category, so that people who are interested in the Camino, for example, don’t have to weed through random posts on singleness or the Advent season to get the information they want?

Perhaps…

But, thinking it through, I realize that separating these posts into their own blogs wouldn’t be true to who I am, or how I process things.  The fact is, all of these “topics” coexist within me, so why not have them coexist in one blog?

There’s probably a better way to organize it all, and maybe on some rainy day I’ll figure out a new set-up to help Camino people find Camino posts easily, while the Retinitis Pigmentosa people can go straight to my adventures with the cane.  Or maybe readers don’t mind stumbling over one to get to the other, and I should just let it all grow together, like some wild and beautiful garden.

In the end, I think it’s safe to say that I’ll keep the blog. I like having it. My posts may be scattered, and it’s anyone’s guess which topic will plant and blossom next, but that’s okay. It’s mine. That’s who I am.

Thanks for reading.

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

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/

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 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.

The Return Home

“As you may know, I spent the last three months in Africa. A wondrous, magical place. But as shadows lengthen across the KBHR window, thoughts turn to homecoming. Journey’s end. Because in a sense it’s the coming back, the return, which gives meaning to the going forth. We really don’t know where we’ve been until we’ve come back to where we were. Only, where we were may not be as it was because of who we’ve become. Which, after all, is why we left.”
–Bernard, “Northern Exposure” Episode 3.21

Homecoming. Journey’s end. The return home.

It has been one week since I have returned. In that time, I have been catching up with family and friends, and rediscovering the joys of the mundane:

• Using shampoo AND conditioner, instead of a 2-in-1
• Not sleeping in a sleeping bag
• Doing laundry. For free. In a machine.
• Not wearing the same clothes every day
• Getting my haircut
• Walking up and down grocery store aisles in giddy excitement at all the food choices

I have also been watching the news and can now tell you what “The Bailout” is and who “joe the Plumber” most likely voted for on Election Day.

Mostly though, I have been reflecting… contemplating my recent 400-mile achievement and my unknown future… wondering how I can use the momentum from one to move ahead in the other.

Part of me feels lost and uncertain. Displaced. I have so much freedom, yet so little direction. Where do I go from here?

That said, another part of me feels found. My faith has been solidified. My purpose has been discovered. My confidence has been boosted from accomplishing such an outrageous goal.

How do I unite my lost with my found to create my future?

Baby steps, I guess. Living life one decision at a time. Living life with patience. Grace.

It’s a work in progress, but that’s where I am today. We’ll see what tomorrow brings.

Eat. Sleep. Read. at the End of the Earth

Okay, so I´m taking a page out of Elizabeth Gilbert´s book “Eat. Pray. Love.” (Which, incidentally, I very much enjoyed.)

Eat, sleep and read is pretty much what I have been up do since arriving in Santiago last Thursday. Here´s a rundown of the events from the past few days:

Thursday – Arrive in Santiago! Jubilee!

Friday – Sleep in. Run errands. Eat delicious food. Run more errands. Found a bookshop that sells books in English and purchased two. Eat again. Sleep.

Saturday – Bus to Fisterre! Fisterre is also known as “Finis terre” or “end of the earth.” Before people realized the earth was round, they really thought Fisterre was the edge of the world. I had originally hoped to walk from Santiago to Fisterre (a distance of about 100 kilometers), but lack of time and energy soon turned that dream into a 21€ round-trip bus ticket. So, Saturday morning we woke up early, headed to the bus station and jumped on board for the two and a half hour ride.

We arrived in Fisterre around 11:30 a.m. Hungry and tired, we checked into the first hotel we saw, dumped our bags and then went in search for food. But, because the Spanish are sooooo… Spanish, they don´t serve lunch until 1:00, so we had to settle for a sandwich and a bag of chips. After leaving the bar, we found a grocery store, stocked up on junk food, and headed back to our hotel room where we proceeded to eat, sleep, and read the rest of the day. It was FABULOUS. Just what this weary pilgrim needed.

View from Hotel Finisterre window

Sunday – We slept in, of course, got some breakfast and then headed out the door for the 7 kilometer round trip walk to the Fisterre lighthouse.

Cape Fisterre

Believe it or not, it actually felt good to walk again. But what felt really good, was literally walking to the end of the earth. After 400 miles across Spain, I finally felt like I crossed the finish line when we walked by the “0.0 kilometers remaining” sign. At last, my Camino came to an end.

We took some time and sat on the rocks overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. I have seen the Atlantic many times from the east coast of the United States, but I had never had the opportunity to gaze on it, looking west. It was wonderful and peaceful, and just the conclusion I had hoped for. Ann and I recounted some of the memories from our trip, and it was such a lovely way to bring the journey to an end. I feel really grateful that we made the effort to go there.

"End of the Earth" at Faro Finisterre

End of the Earth

After the lighthouse, we walked back to town where we proceeded to…. you guessed it… Eat. Sleep. and Read. In two days, I ate a box of cookies, read the two books I purchased in Santiago, and slept approximately 20 hours. Fab-u-lous.

Monday, Today – Woke up, took a three hour bus ride back to Santiago, which is where I currently sit, passing time, until our overnight train leaves for Madrid. Tomorrow we will meet back up with Sofie, and pick up the belongings we shipped to her in the middle of the Camino. Wednesday we fly HOME.

(In case you´re curious, I purchased two additional books today, which will hopefully get me through the train and plane ride home.)

As for home… I can´t wait. I really can´t wait. Not because the pilgrimage has been much more difficult than I expected (which it has), or because I miss you, my family and friends (which I do), but because I am just so excited to get going with my life.

And, NO, I did not magically discover what I should be doing for the rest of my life. I am excited about the unknown. I am excited about the possibilities. I am excited to just SEE what is going to happen next. Like the books I read over the weekend, I am just so excited to keep flipping pages of my life and see what the next chapter brings.

Which brings to mind the blog post I wrote in August called “Ridiculous Bliss” about the day I realized that I was just excited to be living THIS life. MY life. Once again, I am filled with that excitement. My life is far from perfect, but it´s mine and I am so thankful I get to live it. So thankful.

It is time to return home now. Home to my family. Home to my friends. Home to the unknown. I hope you´ll continue to join me on my journey as I flip the page and see what the next chapter brings!

Blessings from España,
Luci

0.00 Kilometers Remaining

Jubilee in Santiago de Compostela

Santiago de Compostela Cathedral

We Made It! 400 Miles in 41 days of walking.

FOUR HUNDRED MILES in FOURTY ONE DAYS. (Actually, it took 43 days, but two of them were rest days, so I´m not counting them.)

400 miles. Amazing.

Can you believe it? I can´t believe it.

The last two days went really well. No rain, just tired bodies and feet, but spirits were high.

Yesterday, as I started my last day of walking, I declared to Ann that it was to be a “Day of Jubilee.” I felt such joy! It was the best way I could find to express all of the joy in my heart. And, right before we arrived in Santiago, we climbed our last Galacian hill called Monto de Gozo, which translates to Mount of Joy. It was there we saw our first sights of Santiago de Compostela. Jubilee on Mount Joy!

Once we arrived in the city center around 2:00 p.m., it took us a couple hours to find lodging, but we finally did. At last, our pilgirmage was over. At least the physical one is over. I can only imagine the ways it will continue spiritually…

The Day of Jubilee was capped off with one last international pilgrim dinner with Penny and Terry (sisters from Canada), Niel and Mia (friends from Denmark), Rowan and Aiden (father and son from Ireland), and Ann and myself. (I even managed to have some chocolate cake, which only added to the jubilee.) As Ann and I walked back to our hotel after dinner, we walked among some street musicians playing traditional Galacian music. It was a perfect end of day to an incredible journey.

This morning, we treated ourselves to a nice long sleep in (9:00 a.m.) and then went and got our Compostelas from the Pilgrim Office in Santiago. The Compostela is basically a fancy certificate saying that we walked at least 100 kilometers to Santiago. (When I get home, I´ll scan it and post it on here for you.)

I have to be honest… this whole time, walking to Santiago, I didn´t think the Compostela would be a big deal for me. I mean, it´s just a piece of paper. But for some reason, it really meant a lot to me when I finally received it. It felt like exactly what it was… some kind of official recognition of everything I went through: the blisters, the tears, the foot pain, but also the joy, and peace, and love. When I look at that certificate, I don´t just see fancy writing… I see everything I went through to get here.

After receiving our Compostelas, we headed to the pilgrim´s mass at the Cathedral with 1000 of our closest international friends. After that, we treated ourselves to a nice lunch and now, here I am, sitting in an internet cafe in the middle of an ancient city that has been a pilgrimage destination for millions of people for more than a thousand years.

I have to admit, I´m feeling pretty proud of myself at the moment. One of the many reasons I wanted to do this pilgrimage was to simply see if I could do it. And I did. I had no idea that I was capable of such a thing. It makes me wonder what else I could do if I set my mind to it. It makes me wonder what anyone could do with enough love and support and courage.

Four Hundred Miles.
Four hundred miles of mountains and meseta.
Four hundred miles with 75 percent vision loss.
Four hundred miles of foot pain.
Four hundred miles of new friends, new thinking, and renewed faith.
Four hundred miles leading me to JOY.

“Stand at the crossroads and look;
ask for the ancient paths,
ask where the good way is, and walk in it,
and you will find rest for your souls.”
–Jeremiah 6:16 (NIV)

Day 37 – Love and Faith in Ponferrada

The Camino continues on, and carries me along with it.

Physically, the last few days have brought healing for my blisters, but new problems for my stomach (which are mostly resolved at this point).

Emotionally, I am doing relatively well. Every once in a while though, I get overwhelmed with the alburgues, and always being around people, never having alone time. So this is remedied with a night in a private room in Casa Rural or a hotel. It´s amazing what a long, hot shower, clean sheets and towels, and some quiet time will do for one´s emotional and mental state.

Spiritually, I am rocking the Meter with 10s. My faith continues to grow. And the best part is that it feels limitless.

Every day, I feel God´s love and care. It is overwhelming to me, receiving such love and care. The manifestations of His unconditional love humble me.

I feel gratitude and peace and humility for this amazing journey I am on.

And, I continue to learn. Lately, I have been focusing on the following lessons:

More LOVE. Less Judgment.

More FAITH. Less Fear.

I´m trying to live more in love and faith, and less in judgment and fear. It is a difficult lesson though. Especially learning how to judge less. Judging seems to be hardwired into the human psyche.

Fear though… Fear is learned. More so than judging, I think. Somehow it feels easier to unteach myself Fear than it does to unteach myself judgment. Or, put a better way… It seems easier for me to replace Fear with Faith than it does to replace Judgment with Love.

Anyway, that´s what my mind has been occupied with lately. I welcome any thoughts you all have on it.

In a nutshell though, I am doing well. And I am mentally, emotionally, and spiritually gearing myself up for the last haul to Santiago de Compostela.

As of today, October 13, Ann and I have walked 285 miles, and have 135 miles to go to Santiago! We anticipate that the next 136 miles will take us 10 to 12 days, depending on how well our bodies are doing.

It´s amazing to think that this part of the Camino will be over within two weeks!

I am excited though. Excited to finish this amazing journey. Excited to see how all of the lessons I have learned will propel me into whatever awaits me when I return home. I am excited to see what the future holds. Excited and hopeful. And, quite honestly, ready to put my feet up for a few days.

I am missing my family and friends now, and wish more than ever that I could somehow extend to them some of the peace and happiness that I have found on this journey. I wish everyone could feel such love and peace and joy.

To You, The Person Reading This: Take a moment, and allow yourself to receive some of that love and peace and joy. My heart overflows with it at the moment, and I want you to have some. It is too beautiful not to share.

with love,
Luci

Camino Road