Aspire Magazine: Inspiration for a Woman's Soul.(TM) Aug/Sept 2017 Aspire Mag Full Issue | Page 70
in 982 C.E. Peeling frescos in shades of
umber and mustard covered the walls. A
midnight navy ceiling was sprinkled with
golden stars. A thick layer of dust adorned
the silk flowers tucked into an alcove. An
emaciated Christ hung on a freestanding
cross next to the raised altar, photos,
shriveled flowers, and candles at its base.
I sank into one of the hard wooden chairs
and silently said a prayer. “Thank you for
bringing me this far. Thank you for helping
me to continue. Please ease my pain.” And
most of all: “Help me understand what
my lesson is.”
I felt a hand on my
shoulder and opened my
eyes. Heather indicated I
should follow her outside.
“Debby, I’m really worried
about your knee. Would
you be okay with me
ordering a taxi to take you
to our hotel for the night,”
Heather spoke with a kind
voice. “I don’t want you to
get worse. Perhaps having a
bit of a lie in will make you fit
to continue tomorrow.”
Tears formed at the corners of my eyes. I
didn’t want to give up. I wanted to walk. But
I knew my desire was putting everyone else
behind schedule. I also knew Heather was
right. The pain was excruciating. I couldn’t
speak, so I nodded my agreement.
Heather folded me in her arms, whispering
in my ear, “You of all people. You’ve been so
looking forward to this trip and you trained so
hard. I’m so sorry.” She hugged me tighter.
It turns out finding a taxi in rural France isn’t
70
easy, especially on a Saturday afternoon of
a holiday weekend. After some finagling, a
taxi arrived. I hoisted myself into the van’s
front seat, waving at the rest of our tribe
as I drove away, tears leaking from my
eyes. My friends waved back until the van
disappeared around the bend.
Upon arrival at the farmhouse where we’d
be spending the night, I lugged my suitcase
upstairs with the help of the elderly hotelier,
popped a painkiller, and slid between crisp
sheets under a plump duvet. Thoughts
thumped
through
my
brain to the rhythm of my
heartbeat: My ex husband
was right: I couldn’t walk
the Camino. My weight is
too high to manage this
kind of trek. I should have
done more preparation.
I don’t understand why I
got blisters – that’s never
happened before. I let
everyone down. I let me
down. My eyes closed
and I fell into a dreamless
sleep.
The sound of children
playing woke me late
in the afternoon. I lay in bed,
feeling the breeze come through the open
window. I recalled my last thoughts before
napping, and felt embarrassed at having
given in to them. Stop ‘shoulding’ on
yourself. You did your best in preparing. No
one could have predicted that you’d slip. Of
course you can do this. You WILL complete
the Camino. Tomorrow’s a new day.
The next morning, I rubbed muscle cream
liberally on my knee, slid the knee brace
back on, and donned hiking pants and tee
www.AspireMAG.net | August / September 2017