Tag: Hope

Second Sunday Of Advent

Today is the second Sunday of Advent. Light that second candle and view its rays of hope, and redemption.

After a chaotic year, there is comfort to be found when we pause to read, pray, and reflect over the course of the Advent season…a time when believers eagerly anticipate the celebration of Christ’s birth. Become a believer.

The second Sunday of Advent gives us the opportunity to prepare our hearts in faithful waiting, celebrate the birth of Jesus, and ready ourselves for his second coming. He is coming but the time and the day know one knows, except the Father.

It’s a beautiful chance to reflect on the ways prophecy has been fulfilled and to ponder what the future (promised to us through prophecies) will bring.

Never worry as God is in control of all things:

Love this time of year. It is my favorite.

Another beautiful song.

Bless everyone.

 

Day 42: Ostabat to Saint Jean Pied de Port

Made it. Safe and sound. This calls for a celebration:

Day started off beautifully. Just look at this sunrise in Ostabat:

Now 22 kilometers to Saint Jean Pied de Port across some of the most beautiful scenery you will ever see:

I arrived and finished:

 

Last night a real Basque farmer entertained us in song. Of course we had to sing along or hum or yell whatever because Brunet had a very loud and booming voice:

Fun!

Walking today brought on a barrage of emotions. My friend Ted was right about that. I thought about everything since starting this journey. I thought of my wife, my children, grandchildren, the scenery, what to do for the rest of my life. But it is impossible to remain sad, despondent or depressed about your situation in life when you experience what I have experienced for the past 42 days and the array of characters and individuals, crazy or normal but all unique, that I have met.

I look ahead with renewed hope and optimism. How can I not when walking among these hills,these valleys, these farms, meadows, mountain tops and morning mist. It is a scene that is impossible to describe. Only some heavenly inspiration could possibly capture the beauty and essence that nature has given us here. As I look ahead at the bluest morning sky I have ever seen – a blueness that was captured in my wife’s eyes – deep blue, crystal clear and magnetic – and the sculpted mountain peaks in the distance, I can see a thousand “Davids, “ nature’s masterpieces everywhere I look. This area is unbelievably beautiful. And that is what gives me hope and the will to carry on. God’s gift of nature’s beauty to all of us.

I think of Marijke. Someone I have lost. I feel for my kids and the wonderful mother, friend and fan that she was to them. In her eyes, as in all mother’s eyes,they can do no wrong and like nature’s “ David” are perfect human beings in their own right.  And for that I am thankful. Thankful for the renewed hope that that thought brings to me. I am sorry Mark and Mike for your loss and sorrow but together we can live again in her memory. I know we can.

That is it. No more tears, no more sorrow. Just life!

I can only think of one song that could match the beauty of this morning’s walk:

A few stats:

42 days;

900 kilometers;

Averaged 25 kilometers per day;

990,000 steps

On average I spent about 40 euros per day;

Stayed in a hotel twice;

Camped 10 times;

Had 2 rain days and 6 rain nights;

Never got sick;

Shoes, socks, pants and tees held out. At least I think they did. The “haz-mat” team may think otherwise.

And like a good pilgrim, I suffered.

Tomorrow will be my last post.

 

 

House of Horrors…2

…As she stood there, like an aged anorexic, she wielded a butcher knife in her right hand. Up and down it went as she eyed us both with suspicion then queried us as to our business there.

“Hello Ma’m” we said, I said. “My name is John Morrison and this here is Timmy Saunders. We were sent here by the city as they told us that we could get accommodations here. We just arrived from out of town and are looking for a place to stay.”

“Okay boys” she said. “Come in, come in”

We followed her in. She sat us down in the drawing room, looked us over for a minute or two, then smiled and told us we could stay. Price? 50 bucks a month, room and board.  And that was it.

Room and board, 50 bucks each a month? Holy shit, no shit. Yes, yes we said.

“You do know the city will pay the first month for us?” I added.

“Yes, yes I know” she said. “Don’t worry boys. It’s all in hand. They just called me before you called here. Your room will be in the basement. But you’ll have to share a room, and bed. Don’t worry; it’s a big, big bed. And no hanky panky”

Innocent though that we were, this was still a strange thing for both of us. As it turned out it was not a problem. We were not that insecure in the least.

“One bathroom, on the top floor”

“How many people live here I asked?”

“Lets see,” she said. “Dear me. There’s Robert, yes Robert…a very long time resident here that Robert.  Then there’s Scotty. Poor old Scotty. Scotty is kind of crazy in the head but don’t you worry at all because he is harmless…poor Scotty,” she moaned.

“Oh and there is Mr Johnston…ninety one years old now Mr Johnston. But not sure how long he will be with us in this world.  Could go at any time y’know” she laughed, looking at us and wielding that knife.

I looked at her accusingly, suspiciously, and frighteningly at the butcher knife that she still held.

“Then there’s you two, and me.  Just me. My husband died some years ago. This old house is all I’ve got. I sleep on the couch in the drawing room. Yes, yes, and Robert has one of the front rooms, to the left on the second floor; Mr Johnston has the other front room to the right and Scotty lives in the back room, also on the second floor. Nobody is in the attic. Not yet anyway.”

Okay boys. Yer room is down the stairs there. Supper’s at 530. I pack a lunch for you both. Breakfast at 7am.  Will see you then.

That was it…

I Could Only Say…Hello

…Pain, or shock, tends to heal and lessen with time. So they say. While at first it seemed somewhat surreal for us to be out playing in the park as if nothing really happened, before too long we were back to our normal ways. Yet there were times when the whole frightening affair came crashing back to me. It was during those times when walking home from O’Grunts place, that I would pass Darren’s house and see his dad sitting there out on the stoop alone.  Lost in thought he appeared to be, or, perhaps he was oblivious to his surroundings, as if in a trance like state of mind.  I would shyly acknowledge him as I passed by the house with a nod of my head, as if I was somehow sharing in his grief knowing full well that nothing I could do could ever come close to easing his sorrow. Sometimes he would see me and nod his head in recognition but most times nothing but his blank stare, a stare that was straight ahead and somewhere out there into space and time.

What was going through his mind one can only imagine? Staring straight ahead into nothingness, seeing nothingness with nothingness of a future. Hopelessly wondering about all of the “what ifs.” The guilt must have been overbearing, unceasing, interminable. To lose one’s son at such a young age. Life is not supposed to be this way. Parents are not supposed to outlive their children. Being a father myself I know of the hopes and dreams that come with parenthood. What will he or she be like at 10, at 18, at 21? What will they become: a doctor, a lawyer, a teacher, a plumber, a proctologist, a what?  And what about grandchildren? What will they be like? Life is so full of promise, of wonderment, of hope, of joyous potential and contentedness.  And then to have it all come crashing down in a flash like some cruel joke.

Of course seeing Darren’s dad was just that to me. Seeing Darren’s dad!  I knew he was sad but knowing that he was hurting emotionally, physically and spiritually was difficult for someone like me to grasp at such as young age. I would never be able to understand or be able to measure the pain that he was going through. I could only say…hello!…