To deep places and then...Europe.

It all started with the idea of doing something special to celebrate my graduation from grad school and turned into facing expectations and definitions I didn't realize I lived under.

I was sitting on the living room floor of a cabin my family had rented for a summer vacation together when I was prompted to consider just how big a deal it was that I only had one semester left before I would graduate with my masters degree.  This felt like a big deal because it's just that, a big deal.  And to add to it's significance...I never thought I would get a master's degree nor did I think I was capable.  Yet here I was only a few months away from accomplishing just that.  Oh AND I was going to be turning 30 just before the summer, so figured I might as well add that to the list of things to celebrate!

My ideas to celebrate started small with sky diving, quickly grew to going on a trip and landed with going to Europe.  I'd never been to Europe and though I never really had a huge desire to it seemed like a great place to choose and one that felt feasible.  Of course, I'd find a few friends to go with me, and we'd be able to save for a year because summer was the only time I could take a trip like that. Sounded easy enough.

My next step was to start running the idea by a few friends that I thought would be both fun and easy to travel with and thankfully one friend was in.  Fast forward several months later after the hardest semester of my entire master's program, presenting my capstone project and walking in graduation and it was time to really get to planning things out.  The only bummer was, the friend that was originally in was now out.  No big deal, just crushed me a bit but it wasn't going to stop me.

Next step, find someone else to travel with.  So I set out and while I had a few people with the desire to do it, nobody could in the end.

Sitting at a bar with a friend, having a beer and watching the "game" (don't ask me what game, I have no clue) we talked about my plans to go to Europe and the dead end I found myself in.  Our conversation led me to a place of realizing that this trip would likely not happen if I wasn't willing to go alone.  ALONE?!?!  Seriously, this wasn't the plan and never had crossed my mind but it's where I found myself.  Either go alone or stay home alone.  And THIS is where the story took a turn deep into my heart.

What did those deep places look like? Scary!...with lots of definitions and expectations on my life as a single person.

I realized that according to who really knows, the church and most people in it, that there were some pretty major expectations I should live by.  Here are the heaviest hitters.  First, I should be married.  I would be 30, long past the age of most married people in the church and marriage makes you an adult and a whole person.  Second, my life didn't start as a single person until I married.  Why? Because the ultimate goal in life is marriage and THEN you can go travel places together because that's what you do when you're married, if you have the means.  Third, which is a mix of expectation and the truth of my heart....I desire to be married and how fun would it be to go on a trip like this with my spouse? So fun...assuming he likes to travel and that we have all the same expectations, hopes and dreams for our trips together. ;)  So maybe I should wait!  Oh wait, I'm not guaranteed marriage, the means to travel if I am one day or the time off like I had then to take a trip like this.  Did I mention I was going to go for 30 days?

These were big expectations I never had put words to or realized just how much they impacted the way I thought about life, how to live it as a single person and my worth therein.  And the truth is and was....I don't believe they are true and yet in big and small ways I was living by them and at times find myself living by them still.  As I sat in all that was coming up, processed, asked myself questions, talked with others and dug deeper and deeper into it all one thing became clear, I needed to go on the trip.  I needed to go because my life had started 30 years prior, single doesn't mean incomplete, and marriage isn't guaranteed.  And so I went.

Choosing to be brave.

A few months back I was invited to be a part of a "Brave Collective".  A small gathering of women encouraging and supporting each other towards being brave, making decisions towards one brave thing over the course of the next 6 months.  Some of us knowing each other, and some not.  All desiring to be brave.

As we came together for our first gathering, I was encouraged.  Encouraged to sit around a table of women that desire to choose a brave thing.  Encouraged by the brave choices each woman desired to pursue.  Encouraged by the vulnerability of their hearts and stories as they shared.  Encouraged that success or accomplishment isn't our ultimate goal but the process that lay ahead for each of us.  Encouraged by the diversity of our stories.  Encouraged by our similar desires to face the hurdles that keep us from making choices that may bring freedom, rest, health and/or growth.

For me, choosing a brave thing has meant choosing to move towards a fear, to choose to do something that I've been thinking about for a long time but haven't chosen.  I haven't chosen it because it's vulnerable, it allows others into my story in such a way that I won't have control over, and it means sharing parts of my story that represent something that often goes underrepresented.  It means sharing parts of my life, experiences, heart and relationships connected to being single.

Stay tuned.

Always broken.

I've thought to write this story for a while now but the moments I've thought about writing it have been either caught in laziness or question.  Can I relive the stories on page?  Do I want to share it with others?  Though it took me a while, the answer is yes.

Several months ago I had an experience that started out sweet but eventually lead to brokenness.  It was one of the first days of March.  Several hours after I went to bed I woke up and couldn't sleep.  I can't remember the time exactly but I'm going to guess it somewhere in the 2am to 4am range.  This has happened to me on various occasions...sometimes it's connected to anxiety and stress, sometimes it's hormonal and other times I just can't figure out.  This time, it was different.

When I woke up, I felt peace.  I wasn't wrestling to fall asleep as had happened in the past.  And I wasn't in daydream land either.  I felt peace and an invitation.  An invitation from God to be in His presence and spend these strange and dark hours with Him.  It was sweet.

The next night, the same thing happened.  Still sweet.  And then it happened again and again, night after night.  A week had gone by.  The sleeplessness was wearing on me and I began to feel a spark of fear in the midst of the invitation I sensed God extending to me.  How long would this last?

Fast forward a few more days and the creeping in of fear was more apparent.  But more then that, anxiety.  And while I've felt anxiety before, I don't ever remember it like this.

I had an appointment to get an MRI, of all things.  (Luckily, it was for my knee so I didn't have to go all the way into the tube. Phew!)  I vaguely remember the drive but I do remember feeling desperate and scared....and praying God would take the anxiety from me.  After I parked my car, I sat there for several minutes...shocked by the anxiety that gripped me, praying that God would hold me tightly and wondering what would push me over the edge.  I felt like I was near a cliff but I couldn't tell how close I was to it or what would push me over it.  Such fear I hadn't felt like that before.  And what if I DID go over the edge?  Now I'm not talking about taking me life (though after that experience I can imagine how anxiety could push you to that place), I'm talking about going crazy.  What if the crazy that was inside of me in that moment didn't go away?  I literally felt SO CRAZY inside....so so crazy.  I wanted to crawl out of my skin.

And then I wondered, what would life look like if the anxiety I felt was my new normal? Would I be ok?  Would I be able to do my job?  And then the thoughts went deeper...Would I be able? Who would I be?  "God, if I can't [remain sane/do my job/function well], how can I follow you?"  These questions were all too familiar and yet were hitting places and possibilities that they hadn't before.  (I don't know if you remember, but these same questions came up while I was walking the Camino...read my post "When walking fails..." if you need to be caught up to speed.)

The truths I had to wrestle with in that moment weren't God's presence or purpose, they were my understanding of what God means when he says "come follow me" and calls me His Beloved.  Could I follow God if I was crazy? What do I think about those that are "crazy" according to society OR according to me?  Would God love me if I couldn't follow through with my responsibilities? Once again, I had to face the fact that my "ability" isn't what God wants or needs or what makes me His beloved.  He wants me.  Me unable to walk.  Me with crippling anxiety.  Me unable to do "my job".  Me as the "crazy" lady talking to herself on the corner. Me who is broken, always broken.  Whoever "me" looks like, feels like, is experiencing and no matter what I am able to do or not do....broken me....that's who He wants and that is who He calls Beloved.   

I don't know that I fully get it in the deepest parts of me.  But, I've had another taste and that taste reminds me of how desperately I need Him....which is why I need to relive the story.

To Vigo by bus.

After the girls left for Vigo, I lay in bed with tears in my eyes. I was struggling with my limitations.  I knew that the girls were on a journey that I would now never taste or know.  They were going to walk 16 miles of unknown territory.  But when we'd meet in Vigo those 16 miles would be known to them, in a way that I would only know through pictures and stories.

We had no idea where the Camino would bring the girls into Vigo but when Steph was using her expert skills the night before she saw that there was a Toys R' Us.  So, we figured if there was a Toys R' Us, this would be a good landmark for us all to find. And, in my mind, if there was a big American store, it had to be close to the city centre, right? What I didn't think about was the fact that if there was a big American store it was going to be a big Spanish city.  

After a slow morning, I boarded a bus to Vigo...45 minutes is all it would take to get there, while the girls walked most of the day.  Not long into the ride I began to see signs for Vigo and this is when it hit me...Vigo is big, I have no idea where to get off the bus, I'm in a Spanish speaking country and I don't speak much spanish, Vigo is big (yep...I know I said that already) and Vigo is big. So what's a girl to do but pray and practice her deductive reasoning skills.  First step, pray.  Second step, watch the people on the bus.  Once we are out of the suburbs, if a lot of people get off the bus I should probably get off with them.  And that's exactly what I did.  At one point it looked like we were entering into more of a city center, people on the bus were starting to either stand, press the "I need to get off the bus at the next stop" button, or collect their belongings.  Then the bus entered into a large traffic circle with big buildings surrounding it.  One building looked like a mall, that was a good sign, I thought.  So I exited the bus with the people.  

Once off the bus I took in my surroundings.  I looked for a Tourist Information office but didn't see one.  I eventually walked into a bakery and asked if they spoke english, they didn't.  Oh and don't worry, I wasn't the obnoxious American tourist that talked at them loudly in english, as if speaking loudly in a foreign language would make it easier for them to understand.  No, I asked them politely in spanish.  "No hablan ingles", she replied.  

Next stop, the mall.  After walking around the small indoor mall to see if there was any information desk or obvious place to stop and ask for help, I decided to stop in a little shoe store.  Unfortunately, the woman running the store didn't speak english BUT she told me through gestures, her eyes and spanish that I was able to piece together, that "someone is coming to the store soon that spoke english.  Just wait 5 minutes."  She had such kindness in her eyes, I could tell she really wanted to make sure I was taken care of.  So, I walked outside and waited.

After 5 minutes had passed and nobody had come to the store, the woman stepped out and gestured to me to wait, someone was coming soon.  I had no where else to go but Toys R' Us and I had no idea how to get there so again, I waited.  Several minutes later a girls came pushing a cart of shoe boxes.  I figured this must be her.  It was!  The woman in the store poked her head out and gestured with enthusiasm that this was the girl and to come back in the store.  

Once in the store the woman explained to the girl who just arrived that I needed to talk to someone who spoke english.  The girl welcomed my questions.  

I asked her, "Can you tell me where the Tourist Information Office is?" 

She said, "Oh, that is very far.  You need to take bus." 

WHAT?!?!  No, Lord...say it ain't so.  And then I thought to myself, "I don't really need the tourist office, I need Toys R' Us." 

I then asked her, "Can you tell me where the Toys R' Us is?" 

It was clear pretty quickly that her understanding of english was limited but eventually through motions and writing from both her and I, and my trying to explain that I was injured and needing to meet my friends, she understood what I was saying and her response was the best thing I heard all day. "It is very close!" she said.  She then explained how to get there, drew me a little map and I was on my way.  PRAISE THE LORD!

As I walked to Toys R' Us I was was taking in all the cafes I could because I might need to come back to one of them.  I made it to Toys R' Us and when I got there it was obvious that this wasn't the place I wanted to be waiting.  Tagging on the walls, more industrial buildings surrounding it, and no other store fronts nearby.  I decided to walk around the building to the other side just to make sure I didn't miss anything, or the girls at that.  Once I got to the other side it was confirmed, there are no cafes next to the store, I'd have to go back up the street to the ones I had passed.  As I walked I prayed that the Lord would give me wisdom in picking a cafe and I had a short vision of the girls walking into the same shoe store I had.  I thought, "that'd be awesome but so random.  Doesn't hurt to pray for it." So I did.

Once I got back up the street to an intersection I had previously walked through I looked around and decided to sit outside at a cafe in that area.  I sat, ordered lunch and waited.  About a half hour later I heard my name.  I looked up and Steph was headed my direction.  I couldn't believe it...they found me!  As she got to my table I asked her where Heather was...she didn't know.  She explained that the trail wasn't as well marked that day and a few times she got off the path only to be directed back by kind locals.  Her and Heather had stopped together earlier in the day for a break and made a plan to stop for lunch a few hours from where they had rested together.  When Steph stopped, as planned, she waited and waited but never saw Heather.   

Eventually we decided to start making our way to the place we were staying that night.  Heather had the address and it was much later then we had planned to meet up, so maybe she had already made her way there.  Hopefully. 

As we walked up the street I was both nervous and prayerful that we would find Heather and that she was safe.  And then, I looked up the street and she was walking towards us!  In this big ole city...with only Toys R' Us as a landmark (but no address)...we found each other.  Praise the Lord!  It was quite a little celebration on the sidewalk.  And then it got better, Heather shared with us what had happened to her and why she was so much further behind Steph and then she said, "and Dawn, guess what?  I went into the SAME SHOE STORE AS YOU!"  Wow.  Thank you God for directing our steps and reminding me that you see us. 

We each had very different journeys that day but God brought us back together and we got to share our stories. 

Oh...and I was able to walk the rest of the way.

When walking fails...

To do the Camino you have to be able to walk...or so I thought.  You see, four days into our journey I began to experience pain in my left knee.  It hurt most when I would stop walking, let my muscles cool, and then try moving again.  It progressively got worse and a day later it hurt while I laid still in bed.  I literally had to "manually" (aka use my hands) to lift my leg and move it to a different position.  It was awful.  But the worst part of it was not the pain, it was the fears that crept in that I might have a major injury and wouldn't be able to walk for the remainder of the Camino.

Lucky for me, we had planned a day to rest after 5 days of walking.  And lucky for all of us, this happened to be in the small seaside town of Baiona.  A gorgeous, quaint town where the Pinta first arrived to share the discovery of America.  We celebrated Stephanie's birthday the night we arrived with drinks, gelato and some really good laughs.  And we may have also received a written invitation under our hotel door to join a guy in his room for drinks.  But that story can wait until later.

While this quaint town had all the makings to provide both rest, celebration and exploration, it also held a great deal of frustration, tears, hard decisions and deep challenges.  It was in this town that the pain in my knee peaked and my fears with it.  What would happen if I couldn't walk the rest of the trip?  Was I ruining our rest day because I couldn't really walk? What would it mean if I went home with the story that I didn't complete the Camino as I set out to? What if I had to have surgery? But deeper then all of those fears was a question...How could I follow God if I couldn't walk?  Damn...that question came from my deep.

I don't know if you remember, but the reason I came on the Camino was initially for adventure but quickly became about walking out my faith and being open to what He might have for me along the journey.  Yeah, key word, "walking".  And, another flash back to 3 days prior when God asked me "why are you doing this?" Oh yeah, because "I want to follow you, God...no matter where you take me." Hmmmmm....walking and following....they seem to go hand in hand, right?!?!  So I thought.  But God, he was doing something much deeper then I realized then and I'm sure, even now.

If I can't walk, how do I follow you God? But wait, those that can't physically walk, they can follow God.  Wow....my typically able body, thinking it's ability is what allows me to "follow" God.  I couldn't believe it.  And in truth, I don't know that I'm doing it justice as I write.  I was rocked with minimal words and a deep sense that the picture wasn't complete.  The "walking" metaphor that wasn't just a metaphor, had miles more to go and deep places in my heart and life to change.

In the midst of all that was bubbling to my heart's surface, I was also faced with a hard decision.  The decision to not walk the next day.  Stephanie and I had gone to the room during the afternoon to rest and after a while began discussing what the next day would look like.  Or, as I wrote in my journal, "the dreaded talk with Steph about my knee and what to do the next day....tears ensued!"  And they did.  I knew as soon as she started talking where the conversation was going and what the decision needed to be but I didn't want it to go that way.  I wanted to walk.  I didn't want to miss out.  I wanted more stamps in my credencial (pilgrim's passport).  I wanted to get a certificate when we arrived in Santiago de Compostela, showing my completion of the Camino.  I didn't want the story upon my arrival home that "I wasn't able to do it." And I certainly didn't want the long days of not walking to think about these things all the more.  But I knew, I could barely walk around Baiona, I certainly couldn't walk 14+ miles to Vigo.

The next day began similarly to the days prior with the 3 of us praying before we set-out for the many miles ahead and the journey that it would hold.  But this time, I was laying in bed and my journey to Vigo would be by bus.

                           

 

                                        

                                 
                                    

The Question

The first day on the Camino we walked mostly along the ocean.  It was beautiful!  And throughout the day I kept asking God, "where am I? and how did I get here?"  It was a very surreal experience, even when it poured rain on us.  Part way through that day, while in awe of the surrounding beauty and astounded that I was there, I heard the question "why are you doing this?"  I don't know how to best explain this but the question wasn't being directed at me.  It was just a question, floating out there in the mix of the crashing waves.  While I knew the question wasn't for me to answer on that day it seemed likely that at some point I might be asking myself that question.  After all, I was only a few miles in to a 160 mile journey.

We left really early on our third day of walking from the home of a kind and hospitable family in Esposende, Portugal.  Sent off with hugs, a fully belly and a grateful heart.  Not long after setting off for the day, I began to get fidgety.  Up until that day I had not experienced any real challenge or discomfort from carrying my backpack but that morning was a different story.  Not only could I not get my pack to fit comfortably, I was very itchy...but I will spare you the details of that.  In the midst of the discomfort I tried and tried different adjustments but had no luck.  I then thought, maybe this isn't about my pack, maybe it's time to invite the Lord into my morning and all that was present to me.  With a little resistance, I began to chat with Him about what I was experiencing and how irritated I was to not be able to settle into the journey and experience the peace of the previous mornings.  And that's when it happened.  I was asked a question and it was the question and God was asking it to me.

"Why are you doing this?" 

"WHAT?!?! Why are you asking me?  I should be asking you, Lord!  I came on this trip with a heart longing to connect with you and praying that you'd reveal your purpose to me...and now you're asking me why I'm doing this?  Seriously?!?!"  Let's just say, it was a colorful, conflictual conversation or at least it eventually became a conversation.

Eventually my frustration with God turned to brokenness (mostly).  Broken and humbled because for me the Camino wasn't just an adventure.  It was a symbolic journey of my relationship with God.  It was an opportunity to walk with God day in and day out, not knowing where the path would take us.  And here I was being asked, why are you doing this?  The answer was simple in it's content and yet far from simple in what it requires.

I'm doing this because I want to follow you, Lord.  

Shortly after coming to this place in my heart and response with my lips, we came upon a small church and took a few minutes to go inside.  As we left, I heard a dove.  Shocked I heard it, more so that I knew what it was and irked that of all things there was a dove signaling it's presence after the conversation I had been having God.  Really God?!?!  (See, this is where the "mostly" comes in.)  Yep!  And not only did I hear it but I looked up and it was perched on the roof of a home right in front of me.  With some resistance initially, I saw the dove as God reminding me of His presence and peace in the midst of my brokenness and fear.

If only the story stopped here...

     

    

 

I'm in.

This time last year my friend, Stephanie, told me in passing that she was going to Portugal and Spain over the summer.  She would be doing the Camino de Santiago.  After telling me this, she asked if I wanted to go.  Was she serious? And did she know who she was asking?  Of course I wanted to go!  I mean, it's an adventure, traveling, Europe...requires getting on a plane.  I'm in.  But really, as much as my interest was peaked, I had plans to go back to Europe the summer of 2015 and walking the Camino wasn't what I had in mind and I certainly couldn't afford to do both.

A few days later I decided to ask her for more details.  While this trip was definitely different then the Europe trip I had in my head, it started to sound feasible.  The summer of 2015 could hold some pretty significant changes for me at work.  And, I was realizing that the Europe 2015 trip in my mind was much like the one I took in 2010....which is altogether too long of a trip as I'm now bound by the "vacation days" I accrue.  Though different then the trip back to Europe that I had begun dreaming about, this one sounded enticing.  It's like nothing I'd ever done before.  I asked Stephanie the cost and when she told me I was shocked.  We could go to Europe for that cheap? I was in.  I didn't tell her that in the moment but I knew I was in.  I mean, how could I pass up this opportunity?  We decided to schedule lunch together to talk about it in more depth and when we walked away from our lunch, we had committed.  A few days later, we had flights.

During our "decision" lunch together, Steph shared some of the reasons she was wanting to walk the Camino.  Deeply meaningful reasons.  This moved me.  The idea that this trip could be more then adventure spoke to my depths.

The Camino de Santiago is a spiritual pilgrimage that people have been walking for centuries.  I really didn't know a thing about it but quickly learned that it was rich with meaning.  People left their homes and walked hundreds of miles, to pay their respects to the relics of St. James, son of Zebedee, housed in the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela in Spain.  Today, thousands of people each year walk to Camino de Santiago from all over Europe, just as they did back in the medieval ages.  This pilgrimage means different things to different people today. But, what would it mean to me? Besides adventure, I didn't know.  But I began to take on a posture of openness and prayed that He'd reveal His purposes to me for the journey ahead.