Dave, looking all bright and shiny at a cute little
church. Adios, Santo Domingo! It's been real.
A wider view, minus Dave's bright-and-shininess.
Shot this old-school irrigation ditch on our way out.
This is the rock Mike is carrying for Dave today.
(What a great buddy!)
Lessons of the Day: Not every shoe fares well on
the Camino. And duct tape doesn't always work.
Sarah, daughter of our sore friend, Jane, of Atari.
(Mike dealt Jane some drugs – 800 mg. Motrin.)
Mike and a mouthful of handmade pastry from Granon.
Town square cross at Castildelgado.
This village of 60 souls dates back to 926 AD.
Lovely old church in Redecilla del Camino.
A Sunday bouquet for Santa Maria, well-deserved.
Stopped in Redecilla for a bit of refreshment.
Dave still raving about that sweet roll in his hand.
Sarah. Her friend (Nikki) was sidelined by blisters
and muscle strain. Now she can't seem to find her.
A door from 1765, a few years older than Mikey.
Sunday afternoon hill climbing – The champs.
More peonies on the trail.
Always brightens our way.
Buenos dias, Belgrado!
Iglesia de Santa Maria.
Our lodgings for the evening, a mile off the Camino.
Low ceilings. Dave has already bumped his head
three times. Might knock some sense into him.
The low beam comes to my shoulders. If I survive
the nightly trips to the bathroom, I'll be lucky. (Mike)
St. Juan de Ortega tomorrow, 14.9 miles!
Only traveled 13.7 today.
(Scratch the word "only.")
Sunday thoughts from Dave:
What is your most precious blessing? My thoughts today are centered on my family. I carry a rock for each one in my backpack every day, and I select certain ones to carry in my pocket or hand so I can focus specifically on them. I plan to place all of these rocks together at Cruz de Ferro, which is a mount of rocks placed by pilgrims at the foot of a cross. For me this act will symbolize love carried, blessings sought, lessons learned, hope expressed, and more. Mike and I will reach that destination about 400 miles along the Camino route, and my load will lighten a bit at that time. The rocks I'm carrying weigh about five pounds...not a burden, but a precious blessing! I send my love to you all.
Cruz de Ferro
We are doing very well physically and otherwise, but we do get tired near the end of our daily stroll through the countryside. (Who wouldn't?) We are happy to wake refreshed each day, ready to tackle the next hill. Our training hikes really prepared us well. Many we see are struggling, and Mike and Dave (aka the iron men) are grateful to have only small complaints. We both pray each day that it will continue. Of course, Fanta and ice cream do help.
Thanks for all the prayers coming our way. We feel them.
Sunday thoughts from Mike:
Mike and Lynna, 2012, Cruz de Ferro
Five years ago today, I was on the Camino with my sweetheart, placing a rock from Maxwell's grave on the Cruz de Ferro. It was so good. On my mind this evening is a wonderful talk by Jeffrey R. Holland, "Songs Sung and Unsung." I find great hope in knowing that someday we will meet our Lord, and that we might "sing" one to another and be understood. We all have great challenges in life, and that is as it was meant to be. Seeing and experiencing some of the struggles along the Camino reminds me of the hard task living offers us. When we lost Max, we had to "stand silent for a time and simply listen to others, drawing strength from the splendor of the music around us." What a comfort it was to know that Jesus, listening, could hear and understand the songs we could not sing. And what a blessing it is to find that we can sing them once again, today.
As we travel through life, we always want to have a happy song in our hearts, but sometimes we cannot find voice to sing the songs of gladness that once were ours, the songs we cannot sing. Sorrow overcomes us, and we are mute for a time. "But how grateful we are that in the midst of these kinds of challenges, there comes, from time to time, another kind of song that we find ourselves unable to sing, but for a different reason. This is when feelings are so deep and personal, even so sacred, that they either cannot or should not be expressed...like the prayer Jesus offered for the Nephite children: 'Eye hath never seen, neither hath the ear heard...so great and marvelous things as we saw and heard Jesus speak unto the Father...No tongue can speak, neither can there be written by any man, neither can the hearts of men conceive so great and marvelous things as we both saw and heard Jesus speak.'" Jesus speaks peace unto every heart, and even when we cannot sing it, we can feel it. And He, in his infinite capacity, can hear us.
Dave and I are having a good Camino trip, a happy journey, but we do carry concerns about beloved family members who suffer from mental illness. It is far more difficult to sing a song of joy when, as Elder Holland said, "so many around us suffer from mental or emotional illness or other debilitating health limitations. Unfortunately, these burdens sometimes persist despite the valiant efforts of caregivers, including family members. I pray we will not let these children of God suffer in silence and that we will be endowed with His capacity to hear the songs they cannot now sing." Maybe we can even sing for them. In a way I guess, that is what Dave and I are trying to do. There is so much beauty and worth in the songs our loved ones know but cannot always hear or sing. That we may give them voice and support them until their songs return is my prayer today. Buen Camino, friends.
Click below to support mental health services
and read more about the cause Mike and Dave
are supporting with their walk.
