Gifts of Sabbatical

     Yesterday was a wonderful day.  It started with more gardening, specifically finishing that middle round section with more sheet mulching and also putting more mulch around my roses.

    Then I took BART into the city to play with a friend.  We went to the Botanical Gardens and the Japanese tea garden.  It was a wonderful time of talking, breathing in the scents and fresh air of the gardens, eating, and just being together.  

    Afterwards I took BART back to Lafayette.  I walked near the creek by myself for an hour, again breathing in the air, talking to God, listening to the birds.  I then met another friend for tea and good conversation. And finally I took BART home.  

    Through that time with friends, those wonderful conversations, both with my friends and with God, a few things became very clear to me.  

    First, even when I'm working, I really need to find ways to make time.  I need to make time for my friendships.  They are important for me and hopefully for my friends as well.  I also really need to make time to walk and to garden.  Even if it's just for a half hour a day of gardening and a half hour of walking, that time for contemplation, for prayer, for getting my hands into the soil is essential for my well-being.  I have to be more intentional about not working 12-14 hour days but actually taking the time to be the most whole I can be.  I won't be a good pastor if I'm too busy to care for myself and this isn't up to anyone else but me.  I need to model good self-care as well as taking that prayer time intentionally.

    Secondly, I really enjoyed taking BART to the city, back from the city to Lafayette and finally home.  I enjoyed not having to worry about traffic or crazy drivers.  I enjoyed being able to text or read or just look at the scenery out the train windows.  I enjoyed avoiding the rush hour craziness (I came home around 5:30, so I would have been right in the middle of it if I'd driven).  It was fun to people watch.  I found it freeing to not worry about parking times or parking places, to just be myself with my water bottle and phone and nothing else.  The new BART cars are also fairly clean and it was a nice reminder that public transportation is there for a good reason and is a really good choice when I am by myself traveling.   

    All in all, a truly wonderful day for which I am deeply grateful.

Gifts of gardening

    The last few days it has cooled off enough for me to return to puttering in the garden. I really love digging in the dirt and watching the things I plant grow.  It truly feeds my soul in so many ways.  I love handling the life of the plants, I love the smells of the garden and the dirt.  I hear and see God in the living things that make up my garden.  The exercise is also no doubt helpful!  

    Though it is an expensive hobby, David felt it was worth it to spend a bit so I could continue playing in the yard, because it is so life-giving to me.  Here is the result of the last few days:

     For those of you who are looking closely, you probably notice that the back part of this middle area of the yard still is pretty weedy but also bare in terms of chosen plants.  You might also see that the ring of rocks that surrounds this middle area is also still full of dry weeds.  

    The lessons: first, it takes time to grow and put together a garden.  The lantana that you see in this garden area I've been planting over the last 6 years.  I filled it in now with 16 additional plants.  There is still the back area, but it really doesn't get much sun, unlike the areas I filled the last few days.  So the kinds of plants I will need for that area are different.  Additionally, I have struggled the entire time we've lived here with knowing what to do with that ring of rocks that surrounds that middle area.  I've put paving stones/flagstones on top of it which makes it into a nice walkway, but I can't figure out how to clean up the weeds that have infested this rock ring.  My neighbor hired someone to do her yard who can pull out all the rocks, lay down ground cover fabric again, put in pulverized granite... all which sounds perfect.  I could then put the flagstones back on top and have a nice walkway around that middle garden area.  However, at this point in time, the cost is prohibitive.  Again, first lesson is patience.  I need to trust that these things will get done and not all of it has to be done today.  

    But the second lesson for me is to rely on the wisdom of others.  Do any of you have ideas about what I can do to deal with that weed-infested rock ring that I could do myself and for minimal cost?  I am happy to put in the work.  The area that you see in the pictures, I've not only done the planting but also done the sheet mulching around all of it.  Labor-intensive, and I frankly LOVE doing that work.  

    (As a side note, I won't use herbicides: I don't like putting poison in the ground and potentially poisoning the animals (and water).  So I am open to suggestions but only if they do not include poisons.)  

What Defines Us?

     I mentioned in an earlier post that David's car bit the dust a couple months back.  Unexpected, but there it was.  Since we were traveling a lot this summer, I thought we could probably get by with just the two cars.  David works from home, after all, and Youngest and Middle would go back to school in the fall.  But as we unloaded everything out of the car, I found myself shaking my head and wondering how long it would be before one of the other two would also reach that point where it no longer made sense to try to fix it.  That point came last week.  The Toyota Camry (a 1995!!) has gone a long way, but when it started having issues and we took it to the shop, our mechanic said it was probably the transmission and so, car number two is now gone as well.  While I was certain we could hobble along with two cars, the five of us trying to share one car felt like a stretch.  Even considering that most of the year it will be only three of us at home, one car still felt like it would really be a great inconvenience, to say the least.  Finally, since we have become accustomed to using the electric car for most of our driving, this last week's need to fill the lone car's gas tank twice also convinced us that it was in our best interest to try to find another electric car.  We had heard that many rental car companies were getting rid of their electric fleets fairly cheaply, so that is the route we went and we now have a new (used) Kia.  Putting aside the financial concerns, it is fun to have a new car to get to know.  

    But all of that is an introduction to say that we spent about 3 hours at the Enterprise sales office this weekend.  The young man who helped us was really nice, and with David and Youngest along, there was a great deal of laughter and joking that we shared.  At one point we had to fill out the financing forms and David and I needed to tell him what we did for a living and who employed us. Because we'd been laughing and kidding each other so much, I felt comfortable asking him, "Guess what I do?"  He smiled, looked at me for a long time and said, "Oh, I think it could be just about anything."  (That is not a direct quote... if you want to know what he really said, you'll have to ask me...)  When I told him I was a pastor though, he nearly choked.  He was like, "Oh wow.  I did NOT see that coming!"  Hm.  I found myself wondering what I convey that made that so surprising.

    While we were on our UK tour, I had a conversation about music with someone who asked if I played an instrument and I told her that yes, I played several, but piano primarily. I wasn't telling her that it was my job, but somehow that was the message that got conveyed and there never seemed to be a time or a place to correct the impression that working as a pianist was my primary career.  That misunderstanding ended up being passed along to others on the tour, and it was only a couple people who, on asking directly, knew that I was a pastor.  Interestingly, the wife of this couple is a professional church organist, working at a United Methodist Church so we had some good conversations about church.  Still, it was a different experience for me to be in a group of people, most of whom did not know what I do.  

    I have assumed I would be a pastor since I was in first grade.  It has been my career focus, but also my identity then for 50 years.  That is a long time to be known for this role, for this focus, for this faith.  And to be in a position where, for 12 days people did not know what I did was interesting and unique for me.  But I also learned some things.

    First, people talk differently around me when they don't know what I do.  There was a lot more foul language, more raunchy jokes, a lot less apologizing for both, and more invitations to join in on the laughter than when I'm in groups who know what I do.  I guess that's not a surprise, though I don't see myself as judgmental about how people talk or play.  In some ways, that was freeing.  There weren't the assumptions about what would offend or upset me.  There wasn't the caution or carefulness around me about what could or should be said.  

    I also did not have the experience, as I've shared that I often have on airplanes, of my job scaring away conversations.  The most common reaction I've received in telling people on airplanes what I do for a living is for them to no longer want to talk to me.  And since only this very nice couple knew what I did on the tour, I didn't have that experience of people disengaging because of assumptions and fears around what it means that I'm a pastor. 

    But the other side of the coin is that I've found that many people open up a great deal when they know what I do.  Conversations can go deep and beyond small talk  when people know you are a person who engages with faith and people's life transitions on a regular basis.  I've had people share with me (second most common airplane reaction) stories of their lives that have both stunned but also gifted me to hear.  Many people trust that pastors will keep confidences and know how to listen.  The only people on the UK tour with whom I did share real conversation was the couple who knew what I did. My role opens doors that I missed by not sharing what I do.  

    All of this also caused me to step back and wonder what is core to my identity.  Is it being a pastor?  Is it being a mom?  A wife?  A friend?  A child of God?  Or is it just being a person, being me?  I think that the core of my identity has changed through time.  Being a mom has been and continues to be important for me.  But being a pastor has also always been foundational for me as both one of the core markings of my identity, but also as just a marker to say that my relationship with God has been foundational to my being.  

    There are times when I regret all the assumptions that are made about me when people know what I do for work.  I don't like it when people stifle who they are, or apologize for their language or their jokes because of what I do.  As I've shared before, I dislike the assumptions some around me have made about what I believe and what kind of person I therefore am.  But hating the assumptions does not change the fact that being a pastor is who I am, who I believe I am called to be, what I love and what I want to do with my time, with my life.  I am a person who feels a strong call to live a life of faith, and of teaching, and of support to others also walking a faith journey.  I am a person who chooses to check in with God, with Love, with the Divine in all that I do and I love that this can be central in my work.  This is who I am.

        So the question remains, if I were to go on another trip like this, would I be more forthcoming about what I do?  I think I would.  I think the desire to be invisible for a while proved to me that I am a pastor at core, and I don't want to hide from that. Good experience though... interesting and different for me.

And so it goes...

     As I've written before, I was unable to spend my time on the Camino, per my sabbatical plans.  Then, returning home, I've found that the last part of my sabbatical, which was supposed to be fixing up my own garden, has also been "sabotaged" in many ways.  First, the expense, even with dental insurance, of dealing with the infection in my tooth and jaw was extreme, which has made the buying of plants and mulch difficult.  Secondly, the excessive heat has also meant that while I can go outside for an hour or so in the morning, that really just allows me to do maintenance on what is already there.  Anything I would plant right now would have a hard time surviving, and my time outside is limited by my ability to endure the heat.  

    At any rate, all of this has caused me to do some serious reflection on the very nature of my life, and probably, all lives.

    Things don't go as planned.  Again, I can really only talk about my own life here.  But I've had dreams and plans, big and small, and very rarely have any of them gone the way I wanted or even expected.  Examples:

    I thought I would be married fairly young, but in fact wasn't married until I was 29.  I also didn't expect trauma, betrayal, divorce, or any of that, but no one ever does.

    I thought I would be a missionary; working for justice and empowerment overseas.  In fact, I really wasn't very good at that work when I tried it so that did not pan out.

    Then I thought I would settle into a home and raise my kids and be a permanent active part of a community throughout my life.  In fact, the longest I've ever lived in a home as an adult is 8 1/2 years, and that is my current home.  Before this, the longest we'd been in a house was 6 years. And I've lived all over: from the Southwest to the South to the Midwest and back here to CA.  

    My vacations have rarely gone as planned.  When Middle and I planned a hiking trip to Yosemite, the car broke down on the way there.  On a family trip to Tahoe, Middle and David had to return early for a school requirement we didn't know about until the last minute.  Another trip to Tahoe, I had to return because of a church situation.  And these stories go on.  As a matter of fact, this problem with vacations never working out the way they are planned is so consistent for me that I was certain before we left that something would go wrong.  As you know, it did.  I don't know why, then, I was so upset by it.  I mean, I expected it at some level, but just hoped so deeply that I was wrong and it would all work out.  

    As I said, small things, big things...

    But as I've sat with this, I've also remembered that many things have worked out better than I expected.  I've made friendships where they weren't expected.  I've connected with people who have shown up in my life in truly unexpected ways.  David was a surprise, a very good one.  I've also had surprises in my career.  I didn't expect to be asked if I wanted to co-moderate the Presbytery, for example.  That was a wonderful surprise!  All my jobs as a musician: not one of them have I applied for: they have all come to me, been offered to me, and each one has been a wonderful gift allowing me to play piano and do other things musically, and to experience the joys of doing so.  My job at Bethel came as an incredibly wonderful surprise, working with Sarah was a gift that has continued to give, even though neither of us are at Bethel any longer.  My job at St. Andrew's was also full of incredible surprises: the people and their care and generosity being number one.  The opening at Clayton Valley was a great surprise and getting the position here has been a wonderful gift. Having a publisher reach out to me repeatedly to publish my blogs into a couple books was also an amazing, wonderful surprise, as was being asked to write devotionals for These Days for a couple weeks.  The list goes on!

    Can we weigh these things?  I don't know that that would be helpful.  But I'm back to feeling that what I'm being called to do, both with this time and with the situations that have arisen in my life is to look for what is good, to look for what is beautiful.

    I've needed to name for myself, honestly, that I can tend to focus more on the negative, when there are good things all around.  My personality does not sit in the good as much as it struggles with the challenges.  But I have some choice in this.  I know gratitude is always a gift, and it is one that lifts spirits, brings joy, and helps us connect more fully with God, with Love, with Beauty.  So, as always, my lesson in this remains to spend the time each day that calls for me to reflect on what has come that has been good, that has been surprising but also gifting, where God has been and continues to be in my day, in my life.  

    Three weeks of Sabbatical left... and I am going to be intentional about this time.  It will go quickly!

Lessons From the Journey: Charity Vs. Dignity

         This morning I found myself thinking about my time on Iona and in particular my encounter with the young man studying to be a Jesuit priest whom we had met on the bus around Mull.  There are only two places to eat dinner on Iona, so inevitably you encounter people that you've met before.  One night when David and I were at one of the two places, the student was there having dinner with one of the employees of the Abby.  It was fairly early and as a result, the four of us were the only ones in the room.  While David and I tried to focus on our own conversation, the conversation of the student and the employee became pretty heated at one point and was hard not to hear.

    It seems the young man was upset because the policy at the Iona Abby is that you can stay there, but it is in exchange for work.  He was upset because he felt that charity should be the value, and he should be allowed to stay without working. Again, we weren't trying to listen in, so much of the conversation we did not hear as we talked with one another as well, but that was the part I was able to gather, and it has caused me to reflect on the values of charity vs the importance of working for what you need.

    I think there is room for both, in different situations. But let me start by saying that there is great value in working for what you are given.  When I was a college student, I volunteered with several groups working to help the unhoused population in the Berkeley area.  One of those was the soup kitchen.  This particular soup kitchen "charged" those who came to eat a quarter per meal.  If the person did not have a quarter, they were invited to help out in the kitchen or with serving the food.  This was the policy of the soup kitchen because they found it gave some dignity back to those they fed. Those who came to eat felt they had paid for their meal, they had contributed.  They were not "charity cases" who could not help themselves, but were people who, like the rest of us, paid for what they were given.  Of course a quarter is a token amount.  But it made a difference in how those who paid for their meals felt, not only about the meal they were given, but also about themselves, as people capable of contributing.

    We tend to value more what we pay to have.  I've found this with our own church programs as well.  When we invite the kids in the community to come for VBS, music classes drama classes, or whatever it is, we have found consistently that if the parents don't pay, the kids are inconsistent in attending.  If the parents pay, even a small or token amount, the kids attend.  The families value it more because they have paid for it, even if the amount they pay is minimal.   

    I've also seen too many situations in which charity is another way of separating people from one another, putting folk into categories of "us" and "them."  For example, when churches are serving meals, providing laundry services, or even giving away clothing, many times the workers are wearing name tags and the guests aren't.  

    "Why?"  I've asked.  

    "Well," I've been honestly told, "it helps us keep track of who is the server and who is being served." 

    "Why is that necessary?"  I always ask again.  I've never received a satisfactory answer in response.  Would it be a terrible thing if the guests or clients helped out?  Would it be awful if some of those helping also used some of the resources that we are giving away?  Why must we separate people out?  It inevitably ends up feeling like some are "good" people doing and giving good things while the others are unworthy but are being graced with the charity.  Instead of seeing our common humanity and universal need, we see some as generous givers, and others as recipients or takers: "not us!"   

    So what is the argument, then, for pure charity?  For the recipients, the times I've been given something that I cannot pay back have been opportunities for humility on my part.  Sometimes we need the humility of learning to accept gifts that we cannot reciprocate or pay for.  On the other side of this, giving, truly giving, without expectation or even hope for a return is also an important lesson for us to learn.  It reminds us that all that we have is for the good of all God's people, not just ourselves.  It reminds us that we are deeply blessed by all that we have.  It has all come to us through grace, truly, and is lent to us for us to share.  It teaches us to be more generous and less greedy, to stop always looking for what we might gain from what we give.

    There are times when charity is necessary.  I spent a summer in Alabama working on fixing and building houses for people who could NOT pay at all for what they were being given.  It was different from Habitat for Humanity in that these were for people who were disabled, or elderly, or truly in situations where they could neither work nor pay anything in exchange for their abodes that we were either fixing or building.  These were necessary charities.  But I still found myself at times thinking that there were ways, still, that it could be and sometimes was, an exchange.  As we listened to the wisdom of those we served, as we heard their stories and their experiences, what we were given in many ways surpassed what we were giving.  

    I think it is important, always, to think through why we are choosing charity over finding ways to give the dignity of an exchange.  I think it is important to be more intentional in this.  Always.  

How Much Grief Is Acceptable?

     As I've been dealing with the recovery and continued work on my tooth as well as the illness that has finally claimed my body for a time, I've also continued to struggle with the grief of not being able to walk the Camino with my son.  As people have said, I probably will go back and walk the Camino another time.  A wonderful friend of mine has even offered to go with me, for which I am deeply grateful. But this opportunity to walk the Camino with my son feels like a one time chance that I won't get back. Middle, himself, while still continuing the Camino on his own, has stated that he doesn't see how he would have the time or resources to try to repeat this. While we don't know what the future holds, while my son is spending almost all of his time either in school far away (Fairbanks normally, though this year he was in Bergen, Norway), or working far away (he works at his school even through the summers and winter breaks), this time with him at this precious stage of his life felt extremely important. Eventually he will probably have his own family, and these rare and valuable opportunities to be together, just mother and son, especially in a situation of walking where there aren't the distractions of city life, work, or even chores that need to be done, will be harder to come by. Middle will be home for a week at the end of the summer before returning to Alaska, but I will be back to working full time, and his attention will be shared with the rest of the family, including extended family.  The opportunity for twelve days, just the two of us, has been lost, and I continue to feel that.

    But in the midst of this grief that I have yet to conquer, I am aware of how privileged my feelings are.  How many people have an opportunity to even dream about or imagine they will have the privilege of twelve days off from work to spend alone time with a young adult child?  How many people have young adult children who would choose to spend their time like this?  And how many would have the resources to travel in this way?  I realize that the dreams I had for this week, themselves, were privileges that relatively few have.  

    There are so many much more painful realities that people are grieving.  The loss of loved ones, the loss of freedom, the loss of homes to wars, foreclosures, fires or other natural disasters, and the list goes on, are all so much greater.  Grieving this time with my son, when placed in the perspective of all the other loses people face, feels like a luxury.  Does that sound strange?  And yet, I think it's a truth.  How much, then, can I justify this deep grief that I feel?

    But as you know, feelings just are.  They aren't good or bad.  They just exist.  And the more we can be gentle with ourselves around what we feel, the more quickly we can go through them to the other side. Perhaps it helps to remember that this loss is small in the big picture. What I think helps more is just recognizing that the depth of my grief is in measure to the depth of the love I feel for this amazing young man I am so blessed to call my son.  The pain mirrors the blessing.  Two sides of the same coin.  

    Additionally, and to be realistic, I think I'm also just weepy because my body is extremely tired from all the traveling, the time change, and the need to recover from extensive and on-going tooth work while dealing with illness! What has been physically exhausting has been emotionally exhausting as well.

    So today I continue to lay low and work to recover physically so I can also heal emotionally.  I am grateful for my son, even while we are apart once again.  And I'm grateful for my home: where I can spend the time recovering that I need in order to move forward.

The Best Laid Plans, Part 2

     So, despite everything, Middle and I started out on the Camino on the 22nd.  We walked from Porto to Vila do Conde and already found our journey filled with lessons.  We were walking the Coastal Route, but much of it was closed because they are rebuilding the Boardwalk.  It was really clear they needed to be rebuilding the boardwalk, but it did make an interesting walk for us.  I have to admit, there were times we cheated with cross country walking and even walking on the boardwalk on some places that were supposed to be closed.  Lesson one then: it is the journey, not the route.  Yes, that's a different spin on the saying, but that was an important lesson for me.  We get there how we get there.  There isn't a "right" way, there's just the way we travel.  And along that way we still encountered other walkers, had some wonderful conversations with them and even more with each other.  I had to put aside following the path exactly because it simply couldn't be done, kind of like life.  There's no right path, only the path we find ourselves on.  Learning to be okay with that is a helpful lesson.

    The second lesson was in the kindness of strangers, again.  The very first thing we did on our journey was stop at a cafe to get breakfast. As we got up to leave, I forgot my walking poles.  They were the only thing not actually in my backpack and I just plain forgot them because I have not been used to walking with them.  But we walked maybe three blocks and I became aware of shouting behind me: the cafe worker had run after us to make sure I had my poles!  She didn't need to do that: but she did, for which I was very grateful.  A second lesson: there is kindness to be found everywhere!

    Third lesson: I went with concerns about my ability to do this.  Many of you know I have had knee and toe problems (osteo-arthritis) that have at times made hiking painful.  I'd done what I could ahead of time: I'd received PRP injections in both sites and had been slowly working up to be able to walk the distance, but I was still concerned.  I found I was absolutely fine!  I have a good pack, good shoes, and the poles really helped.  What surprised me was that it was Middle who said, "I think I need to have my stuff schlepped.  It's too heavy and I can't do this."  Granted his pack is twice (at least) as heavy as mine because he will be traveling all summer around Europe and doing different things like climbing the Alps and camping so he needed different equipment and more of it..  But it became clear we were not going to be able to make this work for him if he had to carry all his belongings the whole way.  Still, the soonest we could order the schlepping service was for day 4.  So we would have three days of carrying our own stuff, and we would learn to stop often, to rest, to do what was needed to help us get through.

    All in all, it was truly a marvelous day.  And I found myself as always just truly aware of how blessed I am by the incredible son I have. Our conversations were amazing.  It is a wonderful gift to me that I have a 21 year old son who actually talks to me about philosophy, politics and religion.  It's not that we always agree, but that's part of the joy of the conversation.  We talk, we learn, we grow, sometimes we entrench in our own view points, but we share.  And for that I am grateful.  

    Day two, the 23rd, we walked from Vila do Conde to Esposende.  There were new lessons, some that I already know but had reinforced.  The primary lesson of day two was that I don't function well when I'm hungry, and when I'm active, I can't always recognize my own hunger.  At that point, if I do recognize hunger, I often can't decide where or what I want to eat.  Middle was not in a mood to make decisions either so there were some crabby moments between us when I wondered if we'd be able to make the trip together work.  When we arrived at the hotel (yes, we are staying in hotels: I was not interested in the whole hostel situation as it was described to me), we were both truly exhausted.  Middle had still shlepped all his stuff and according to our tracking records we'd walked about 17 miles that day.  Still, we felt good about making it and had a wonderful dinner to finish the day.

    Then we come to the night of day two.  As you probably remember from my previous post, on the morning of the 21st I went to a dentist our hotel found for me because of extreme pain in a back bottom tooth and all along my jaw.  The dentist didn't really speak English and my Portuguese is minimal, but she told me I had a bad infection in that tooth and had given me a prescription for antibiotics and ibuprofen.  By the evening of the 23rd, then, I had taken three full days of both and the pain was not lessening at all.  Most of the time it was manageable with the ibuprofen.  But if I drank anything (kind of necessary while hiking), or ate anything that was not room temperature (both heat and cold set it off), or laid down (like to go to sleep at night), the pain was still almost unbearable.  At one point we actually met an American endodontist who said that I really needed to get this dealt with and that there would probably be someone in Portugal who could do it, but recovery could prevent me walking a couple days at the least.  Also, I'd be paying out of pocket if I had it done in Portugal.  I told her I had antibiotics, but I only had been given 8 day's worth which meant there would be 4 days walking without it before returning home to have the tooth looked at and taken care of.  She did not think that was a good thing at all. 

    Then, as the night went on, I started to feel... well, not so good.  A bit feverish, I had a headache that was increasing, my skin hurt, I was starting to cough a bit.  I dismissed all of it: after all, I know you can get sun sick. And dealing with a little cold was not going to stop me.  But then David, who had left us on the morning of the 22nd to fly home, texted me around 4:30am to let me know that the cough he'd had for the last two days we'd been together had turned into being truly sick and he'd tested positive for COVID.  Oh great!  We'd been together 24/7 for the previous 3 and a half weeks as we went around the UK.  I did not see how it would be possible that what I was experiencing was anything other than the beginnings of COVID as well. 

    As I thought about all of this, at 4:30am, I thought that if it was one issue or the other: my tooth or being sick, I would figure it out.  But honestly, I did not feel up to dealing with both of these things in another country while trying to hike my way to Santiago.  So, with David's help, I changed my flight to come home on that third day, the 24th. I asked him to also get me an appointment with the dentist for the next day (today). Middle understood, though we were both sad.  He decided he wanted to continue the walk and would do it for the both of us. After all, we had all our reservations laid out....  

    Still, by the time I got to the airport I was starting to feel I had made a truly terrible mistake. In my mind, I had allowed my fears of dental issues and illness to be the decider rather than time with my son and doing this incredible walk with him. The Camino is not supposed to be easy!  But at that point, there was no changing it back. We'd used our travel insurance to change it in the first place with the excuse of the dental emergency and I did not see how they would accept another change. Still, I had a terrible day where I could not stop weeping, yes weeping, much to my embarrassment and that of those around me at the airport and in the plane.  I felt like I was the worst mother on earth and that I had truly made one of the stupidest and unthinking decisions I had ever made by abandoning my son because of fears around tooth issues and illness. 

    You all know the flight situation.  By the time I arrived home, at midnight last night, I had been awake then for 28 hours.  I tried to sleep (in the living room since David has COVID and is isolating in our room), but the tooth pain was a problem again. So this morning, after four hours of sleep, I tested for COVID (negative so far) and then toddled off to the dentist.  I needed a root canal, and immediately.  The Endodontist who did it said I had a severe crack all through the root of my molar as well as the molar itself.  The infection, despite the anti-biotics, was severe.  And this wasn't just a "go in and have it fixed" kind of thing.  I need to go back so he can do a little more work to remove all of the infection and then I will need a crown since the tooth is also cracked.  I can only eat "soft" foods until this is all taken care of, and I'm supposed to rest as much as I can. Okay, then.  So I guess it was the right decision to come home.

    But I am still heartbroken.  Truly heartbroken.  Of all the parts of my sabbatical, as you all may know, this was the part that I was most looking forward to: time with my son to walk the Camino was the main purpose and highlight for me of this time.  

    Still, as always, I feel my job, both professionally and personally is to look for the hope and look for the good.  So the good:

    I did get four important and meaningful days with my son.  Two in Porto and two walking.  I have once again been given the opportunity to learn the lesson of flexibility.  As Middle said it, "Plans aren't important.  Planning is." So we did the planning.  And the universe, or God, or whatever you blame for what interferes with those plans had other ideas. It turns out there are other important reasons to be home: other people who are close to me who are also in need right now.  I want to be here for them as much as I can, which is harder to do from Portugal. I continue to be grateful for my son: for his kindness, his flexibility, and his determination to continue with the Camino despite everything. He's made connections with other folk on the path and he will be fine, as much as a part of me still thinks of him as a little boy.

    And there we are.  The best laid plans often don't mean a thing in this crazy but wondrous journey we call life.  But there are gifts in all of it.  

    That's the update.  And now I'm heading to take more ibuprofen as well as another antibiotic pill, and to get some sleep!