It is finished.

     How did this happen?  It seems simultaneously like it was yesterday and ages ago that I began this adventure.  1,000 miles in 62 days.  It almost seems like a dream.  I woke up around 6:30 on July 24th to the sound of a group of Catholics praying Morning Prayer in the lobby (not a bad way to wake up).  Almost everyone else was already gone.  I packed up my bag and took some extra time to pray Office of Readings and Morning Prayer, I wanted to make sure I started the day off as prayerfully as possible.  Because I was so late leaving the albergue, I was pretty much alone for the first couple hours of my walk, which was a nice surprise after the hundreds and hundreds of people I was surrounded by the day before.  When I began I felt a strong since of awe, knowing it was my final walkñ but that soon gave way to impatience as the kilometers seemed to stretch on and on and on.  (In reality, it was one of my shortest hikes of the whole trip.)  By the time I reached Santiago I was feeling exhausted (I really hadn't slept much in a few nights).  And it was rather frustrating to discover that once I reached the city, it was still another 45 minutes before I reached the Cathedral.
     When I finally reached the main plaza I tried to feel something, some sense of completion, but it just wasn't there.  I entered the cathedral just as they were beginning mass which was quite fortunate, but frustrating due to the crowds of people milling around constantly the entire time.  Right after mass I went to the Apostle's tomb to pray and thank him for bringing me so far.  Still I felt nothing.  So, exhausted and hungry, I got my compostella and went in search of a place to stay for the night.  After some initial failures to find anything I decided I needed to eat and rest, because I was just too dang tired to think straight.  This whole time I was trying my best not to feel anxious about finding lodging.  I kept reminding myself how often and generously God has provided for me on this trip and just kept saying, "I trust you Lord, whatever you want, but please give me a place to stay."  But I still felt anxious, I really didn't want to sleep on the street.
     I got lunch at a great little kebab place and as I was leaving I ran into an America named Michelle who was born, wonder of wonders, in French Lick, just about an hour from my hometown.  It turns out she knew of a great little pension that she had stayed in the night before and thought they had a room left.  So I walked, very quickly, to the place and, praise God, they had a room left.  As soon as I was sitting in the room I just started laughing I was so relieved and offered up prayers in thanksgiving to God for taking care of me once again.
     Now I revisted the cathedral, with no worries about what was going to happen next.  The crowds had died down quite a bit, the church was much quieter, I was much quieter.  And I started to feel it.  I went to the statue of St. James behind the high altar and knelt and thanked him for all his help.  I went to the back of the church to see the column with the handprint from all the millions of pilgrims who have touched it upon ending their pilgrimages.  Just to stand in that spot and know that so many have stood exactly there in thanksgiving and awe was amazing.  As I walked back up towards the sanctuary the "finished-ness" of it all hit me, and every few steps I would begin to laugh and cry simultaneously.  Lastly I stopped in the adoration chapel and knelt before Christ my Lord, who called me on this pilgrimage, who guided me and protected me along it, who drew me closer to Himself through it, and who strengthened me to finish it well, and I laughed and cried (as quietly as possible of course) and said "Thank you."

     I was blessed to meet up with several of my "camino friends" for dinner that night.  It was a wonderful little reunion.  We shared stories, talked about how our hopes for the camino had been fulfilled or what we think we'll be able to take back with us.  One woman asked me about when I decided to be a priest and I got to share my vocation story with the group.  It felt good to be able to share my story, including some of my experience in Lourdes, and try to communicate as sincerely as possible my passion and excitement and ridiculous desire to be a priest.  I can only hope that if I can communicate my passion sincerely it may serve to help others examine their own faith, and draw closer to God.
     After dinner I went back to my room and prayed and journaled, and just tried to process, not only that day, but the entire trip.  It was over.  My two month long pilgrimage was over.  Thank you Lord for the Camino, for prayer, for scripture, for strength, for solitude, for community, for friends found and left behind, for your grace that has permeated every step of my pilgrimage and every second of my life, for bringing me to seminary and (hopefully) for calling me to be a priest...for everything.  Thank you.  Glory be to God! The Camino is over, the pilgrimage continues.

More Pictures!

Meseta wheatiness.

Well, I can't turn the picture, so tilt your head.  It's awesome.

150km in 3 days.  This is the look of an exhausted man...with a beer.

I got to walk with these guys for a few days, there are a few Americans in the mix.

Near O Cebreiro, fantastic mountain-ness.

Cool pilgrim sculptures are all over the Camino.

100km to go...bring it on.

Unbelievable

     I'm sitting in an albergue 20km from Santiago.  Let me repeat that.  I'm sitting in an albergue TWENTY KILOMETERS FROM SANTIAGO!  How did that happen?  I am half a day away from the destination I've been working towards for the last 65 days.  I have walked in the heat, in the rain, in the cold, in unreasonably strong wind.  I have walked over mountains, through muddy valleys, down stony paths, on the highways, on country roads (often littered with the signs of cattle), on cobblestone streets (the worst kind to walk on quite frankly).  I have walked through two countries without speaking the native language.  I have walked for twelve hours at a time, covering foolhardy distances while being jovially called insane by other pilgrims.  I have spent nights alone, feeling homesick.  I have spent nights with others, sharing meals and memories.  I have spent nights in huge dorms wishing the teenagers that just started walking would shut up and go to bed.  I have been opened to God through prayer, through loneliness, through community, through the healing waters of Lourdes.  I have been frustrated by closed churches, by museum churches, by masses that omitted rather important parts of the liturgy.  I have seen the beauty in simple churches, in churches that seek to minister to the people in the most basic and beautiful ways, in the Eucharist held for the faithful to adore.  I have been angry, sad, afraid, anxious, and overwhelmingly overjoyed.  I have walked a thousand miles to kneel at the tomb of St. James, to fall down at the feet of Christ my King, to thank Him for His abundant blessings and all the ways He has shown Himself to me this summer.  After 65 days of laughing and crying and everything in between...I'll walk into Santiago before noon tomorrow.  How will I react? I have no idea.  It almost doesn't seem real.  All the planning, all the prayers, all the support from everyone back home, all the walking, and walking, and walking... all for Santiago, all for tomorrow.  Unbelievable.

The Meseta

This is a few days late, but it took several tries to get this video to upload.  Enjoy!

Back On Schedule

     If I had to choose a theme for my pilgrimage experience thus far it would be: Don't Worry.  It seems at every turn God has been teaching me this lesson in new ways.  When I first arrived on the Camino Frances in Puenta la Reina I calculated that I needed to walk an average of 30km a day to make it to Santiago in time for the Feast (July 25th).  So, I immediately made my plan and said "tomorrow I'm going to walk 40km." I figured I'd try to make up the distance as quick as I could so I could slow down and walk with the same people for awhile into Santiago.  Well, it didn't work out.  I proceeded to attempt to make long days for the next week or so and for one reason or another they never worked out (getting stuck at the post office, being unable to find an atm, etc.). 
     Well, the silver lining is that I got to spend several days with Pierre (whom I met a few days before Puenta la Reina) and Charlie, Chris and Heather (all from Texas).  I love these guys, they're great, devoted Catholics (Charlie is entering the Francsicans in September!) and just fun to be around.  Plus, I got to spend July 4th with other Americans, which was a nice way to celebrate.  But I must admit my embarrassment.  After dinner on July 4th I gave a rather awesome toast about how I was grateful to have spent a few days with everybody and was sad that I would be leaving them behind as I increased my distance to make the Feast (teary eyes filled the room, it was terrible, you should have been there).  And then the next day we all had dinner together again.  And the next day.  And the day after that.  It became a running joke that every night I would say "Goodnight guys, I'm sorry I won't see you tomorrow."  Well, finally in Burgos I left them all behind (after 5 days of trying).  They all took a day off in Burgos, so as long as I walked somewhere that day, I would leave them behind.
     A day before Burgos I accepted that I wasn't going to make the Feast.  I said, "God, I want to make it for the Feast, but if that's not what you want than so be it.  I know that Your plan is far better than mine, and I only want what you want for me."  And then God gave me wings...metaphorically speaking of course.  When I left Burgos I felt great.  I had a ton of energy, my legs and back felt strong, I felt like I could walk forever.  I did 30km out of Burgos and decided that I felt so good the next day I was just going to walk as far as I could.  Well, the flat ground of the Meseta, cool temperatures, and God's grace helped me cover about 50km (31 miles) that day.  And I still felt good.  So the next day I did 47km.  And I was tired, but I realized one more day like that and I'd be on schedule.  So I tried again.  I woke up early (and I was dead tired) and I started walking.  It was tough.  I was exhausted, my legs were sore, my knees were feeling strained, I just wanted to stop.  But I kept praying and I kept walking.  And I walked 54km (32miles) in 12 hours.  I couldn't believe it.  90+ miles in 3 days.  It was insane, it was foolish, and it was done.  I was back on schedule.
     So maybe God wanted me to enjoy the few days I had with my new friends.  Maybe God wanted me to more fully abandon myself to His will.  Maybe He wanted to give me an opportunity to rely fully on His grace.  Or maybe (as my dad suggested oh so long ago when they lost my bag in Toulouse) He just wanted to see how badly I wanted it.  I don't know.  But God gave me the strength I needed, when I needed it, to accomplish what I wanted, and what He wanted for me.  He always has, He always does, He always will.  He never fails to provide for me far more abundantly than I could ask for or imagine.  So why worry?

Pictures!

Hey everyone! I was hoping to get more photos up than this, but this computer has been alternating between freezing up and refusing to read my camera.  So, I hope you enjoy these few snapshots of my pilgrimage!

Three fellow Camino pilgrims and I before the candle procession at Lourdes.  Jacquelynn, next to me, was just beginning, the German couple were just ending.

Good news everyone! France is looking for him too, we'll find him in no time.

On my way to Somport.

Yeah! I'll tell you one thing right now, I did not miss the gite in France and have to cross the border for directions the night before this picture was taken.  Nope, didn´t happen.

I'm basically there.

Fellow pilgrims that I got to watch the Eurocup final with.  

One of the hallmarks of the Camino: The fountain on the right gives out water. The fountain on the left gives out wine.  Good wine.

España!

     I finally made it to Spain! And good news, all the letters on the Spanish keyboard are in the same place as the English keyboard! Bad news: I got so used to the French keyboard that I keep messing up some of the letters, darn it France!  This is going to be a short blog tonight because I've got a lot to get done in a short amount of time.  I crossed the border via the Somport pass a few days ago and have stayed in Jaca, Arres, Sanguesa, Monreal, and am now holed up at Puenta la Reina, where my camino meets up with the main route, the Camino Frances.  In other words, after a long trip with lots of solitude (beautiful, beautiful solitude) I'm now surrounded by lots and lots of pilgrims.  But it's good, a new experience, it's like starting a brand new pilgrimage!  

     I'm running a little behind schedule, so it's looking like I'm going to be pushing it to reach Santiago by the 25th, but I'm going to give it my best shot and see what happens.  God will get me there if that's when He wants me there.  As St. Therese of Lisieux said: "Everything is grace." My transition to Spain was more difficult than I thought it would be.  I had gotten used to the way things worked in France, and even without knowing the language I knew how to take care of what I needed.  Now it's a whole new system, and they eat dinner even later! (Seriously, like 8:30 or 9:00, it's crazy.)  But I'm getting adjusted all right and before too long I'll have a new system of broken Spanish down.  In the meantime, you'll have to wait for pictures because everytime I come to a computer I forget my camera cord and I can't get the SD card reader to read my card (makes it seem kind of useless to me).  But rest assured, I'm still going through mountains and they are beautiful, I know you were worried about that.  Thanks for your concern.  Seriously though, thanks for all your prayers, I'm getting closer!  Buen Camino!