Late last fall I was privileged to walk the Camino de Santiago (the Way of St. James). For those who are unfamiliar with the Camino, it is an extensive network of ancient pilgrim routes stretching across Europe and culminating in Santiago de Compostela, Spain at the tomb of St. James. I walked the Camino Francés, starting in St. Jean-Pied-du-Port in France with my sister, Marianne and her two daughters. For 34 days and 500 miles we transversed every kind of terrain and topography.
As I began this pilgrimage, I prayed to be open to the voice of God and all that God wanted to “teach me.” I wondered what the “epiphany” would be, what God would reveal, and how I might be transformed. To be honest, I was a little fearful that something hard would happen. I kept waiting for some disaster, a bummed knee or a twisted ankle. But I was blessed with grace upon grace and an overwhelming experience of God’s presence. God’s “lesson” was to remind me that I am abundantly loved.
Each day we began walking with the night sky above us filled with constellations and the changing moon. In the western sky, there was a bright star, which reminded me of the Magi, who traveled in search of the king of the Jews. Imagine their surprise, ending their journey in the remote village of Bethlehem and finding an ordinary scene of a mother cradling her infant son. There was no prince, no palace, no grandeur. In this commonplace setting they found the extraordinary: parents who had said “yes” to a call they heard through angels, shepherds who came to adore a newborn infant, and the Christ child laying in the manger.
In many ways, my pilgrim journey was an ongoing discovery of the ordinary as extraordinary. Each morning was an encounter with beauty, to which I found myself exclaiming “wow!” I was enchanted with the predawn sky that manifested stunning colors. Since we were walking west, I would keep looking over my shoulder for that magnificent moment when the sun would burst out on the horizon. Every sunrise was new, amazing and extraordinary.
Just as I watched the changing sky, I would also listen in the morning, waiting to hear the first rooster crow of the day, and each time it filled me with delight. The sound of cow bells gave us great pleasure. I listened to the song and chatter of the birds that filled the trees and sky. I even asked Marianne, “Do we have that many birds in the States?” and decided that I probably had not been listening. And so, I became more attentive, listening to the sounds around me, from bird song to cow bells, to the crunching gravel and rock beneath our feet.
I marveled at all creatures great and small. Every cow was extraordinary. I cannot tell you how many pictures of cows I took… as if I had never seen one before. I loved looking out over the harvested farmland, the expansive meseta, the rolling hills, the forested woodland. The view from the next hill or curve sent us into expressions of awe and wonder.
I admired the artistry of the baristas as they made my morning café con leche. They probably think of their labor as very ordinary as they get up each day and serve cups of coffee, but for me it was a delicious work of art. And then there was the daily bread found at the panaderías and the delicious as well as beautiful pinchos and tapas.
My epiphany is that with eyes and ears open and the heart receptive, everything and everyone around us is extraordinary, the manifestation of Christ, a manifestation of the divine. So, my hope and prayer are that you too will see the extraordinary in the ordinary, the day-to-day, the cotidiano. As we would say to each person we met on our journey, “Buen Camino!” as you journey into this new year and discover God’s love and the divine the extraordinary all-around you.
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