Preparing the Pack
...a winding narrow trail along the coast of Portugal and Spain, helped put it in perspective, and I have not even arrived.
In a week, I will board a plane destined for Porto, Portugal.
This trip is many months in the making, and as our travel day nears, it makes me think about the many months I spent preparing my pack.
This is not a typical trip to Europe to see castles and churches– sure, we may see some of those, but this is a trip about tearing down walls of self-doubt and building up new ones of self-assurance and hope.
You see, I live with Multiple Sclerosis. For thirteen years, this disease has dictated many facets of my life from stealing energy to robbing me of time with those I love most. It has resulted in countless hospital stays, doctors appointments, and frustrating treatments. I made a point a long time ago to make sure that I was a person navigating a disease state, and I did not define myself by it. Some days that took a lot of convincing.
So, when I learned about the Camino– a long pilgrimage through France, Spain, and Portugal, I promised myself that when my MS was under control, I would pack my pack and hit the road.
That day is almost here.
For the last several months, I have woken up at 5:30am and met a group of fun, inspiring neighbors. We walk a few miles and share stories about ourselves, our kids, our bosses, our trips. It is a great way to start the day in the fellowship of other women walking their own walk.
Some days are frigid; I think thirteen degrees was our record, arctic walk. Today, the skies opened, and it poured cold, freezing rain. “Oh, good, I can figure out how to put the cover on my pack,” I said to my friend, who quickly adjusted it over my over-sized pack. We kept walking, taking a slight detour and cursing Siri for getting the time wrong on the downpour. Most importantly, we kept walking despite what life threw at us unexpectedly. It was a whole lot easier to endure the rain while our friend regaled us with stories of a recent trip to Germany.
As a parent and a teacher, I constantly remind my students that what they do now will pay off later. The hours of homework, the fear of presenting in front of a class, the emboldened move to run for class office. These seemingly random events are all being packed in their packs for their long hike. When they have a classmate cover their pack when the rains come– it makes it even more bearable.
When you walk the Camino, everything you need for days – or months– is shoved in a pack that you carry for miles upon miles. As a result, every choice you
make will end in a result, for good or bad. Each item you pack is more weight to carry, so you get down to the necessities.
That’s a whole lot like life. The extra stuff– we can let it go. Drop it in a town. Pass it on to another pilgrim. I will carry only what I need to get me to the next town. The Camino teaches you to figure out what matters. Sometimes in the day to day, we lose sight of that, so a winding narrow trail along the coast of Portugal and Spain, helped put it in perspective, and I have not even arrived.
I know after two weeks, when we reach Santiago, there will be a huge wave of relief. God willing, a goal will be reached, but the real learning was the last several months of preparing, planning, goal setting, and imagining.
We are never too old, too sick, or too tired. It is never too early or too late. I used to think getting on that plane was the first step– that is not the case. The day I decided to walk, plan, and pack– those were the first steps. It does not matter when or how, what matters most is that we start.
