" He has put his own Holy Spirit into our hearts as a proof to us that we are living with him and he with us."
1 John 4 : 13
We are never alone ... He is our ever constant companion ... He is our rock!
Presence is the one thing that I can say has been with me 100% of the time ... even when I am screaming at God in anguish ... my words are always about why or when but never about where are you?
He has a tight hold and will never let go ... For which I am truly grateful.
His Grace covers me and carries me to feel is presence.
(an exert from my writings)
I knew it was about 3 o'clock in the afternoon. The sore spot on the inside of my little toe was like an alarm. It was always the same area on my foot that seemed to get sore and around the same time every day.
Knowing it was only another hour to go till the next town ... I kept on walking. There would be a hot meal waiting for me in the albergue when I arrive.
I keep adjusting the way I walked slightly to relive some of the pressure on the the blister. All this walking had definitely worn my feet into the soles of my shoes. My stride had changed much over the past weeks. Carrying a heavy pack and walking about 18 kilometers everyday does wear you down. As sore as my feet were, the rhythm of walking called to me every morning at dawn, when I got up in darkness and began the again on the pilgrims track.
Santiago seemed to be only days away ... so close my imagination could hear the bells tolling to announce the 12 noon mass. Over the past 40 days my body had learned to walk in step with the earth but my heart struggled with letting go of material possessions. The decisions on what to discard from my pack became easier as the days passed ... easier as my weary body climbed mountains, all the while knowing there were still more ahead.
The days became one long conversation with God. The blisters became reasons to complain to God about how hard things were. Even through all the endless dribble from my mouth ... his ear seemed to be always there ... that sense of being listened to ... and comforted ... and understood. Those amazing moments when I would walk around a corner and see thick golden wheat fields rolling over the hills and a meandering red dirt paths up the side of a rickety wooden fence that seemed to go on into the horizon forever ... the appearance of an old bow legged lady collecting chestnuts with her granddaughter and seeing their loving interaction and the freedom in their steps ... these views and snapshots in my mind became a conversation with God overflowing with gratitude and compassion.
Nearing the end of my pilgrimage, I could feel the relief, mixed with sadness. Northern Spain had been a time of growing and letting go ... It had also shown me a glimpse of what it was to be carried by the hand of God. His ever presence in my days had become very obvious but not because he wasn't there before ... but because my eyes had been opened and my heart now sensitive to His Presence ...
This time for me was one of closeness to God ... of wrestling with God and coming to a place of peace.
May you also know the same peace with him.
Be blessed and be a blessing