Have you ever noticed that when you set out to do something challenging, little messages and encouragements arrive from unexpected places?
This came in the mail over the weekend:
A package from Ireland, complete with colorful stamps and handwritten letter sent by my dear friend and fellow peregrina, Geraldine. It arrived in direct response to my post about being diagnosed with osteoarthritis in my knees.
Note the little bundle tied up with silver ribbon. Mefix tape is a bit of a “thing” in my peregrina circle. Because it saved Carol from any blisters at all, she recommended it to me. When it reduced mine to nil, I became a believer. So when Ger was planning her Camino, I offered to send her some since it isn’t available in Ireland. Job done.
Her note read, “It’s madness that I’m posting it back to you. It’s even more crazy that I carried the weight of it all 500 miles on my back! I hope it serves you well on the next Camino otherwise it’s just an over-indulged tourist!” You can bet it’s going in my pack.
The best part was a card that reminded me to take one step at a time — through healing my knees, through training, through the myriad doubts. Her words brought me from laughter to truth.
I’ve been making myself crazy looking at airfares. The logistics of starting in Finisterre are complex at best, but it’s the financial tally at the bottom of the spreadsheet that’s my current nemesis. “Maybe you shouldn’t do this,” I think to myself. “Maybe it would be smarter to use that money for financial goals or a different trip. Maybe you should delay this.”
No. I hear a respectful but clear reply from the Source (wherever that voice of wisdom comes from). You’re meant to go on this journey in Spain. You just have to trust.
You can imagine how much I love that particular advice! 🙂
Blisters form when the same spot gets too much friction for too long. It’s the body’s defense. Eventually that blister will turn into a protective callous. Mefix stops the blistering and simulates a callous so the skin can heal underneath.
When the friction of my thoughts wears me down, I can’t slap a plaster on my skull (though it might be funny to try!). My first Camino taught me that worry changes nothing. All I can do is take the next step. And the one after that. The fact is, even without airline tickets in hand, I’m already on the path. Ger’s letter is the bandage I need to help heal what’s underneath and move forward with certainty and trust.
We should call it “we fix”!
Want to know why I’m doing the Camino in reverse — and how you can help?Read on!