We figured the final week of the pilgrimage would be crowded, and we were right. Tons of people on the trail. My first prayer this morning was for patience. (OK, maybe I prayed for a Braves win first, but patience was definitely second.)
I don't like walking in crowds. All the noise and jostling makes it tough for me to find peace. The routines I'd developed over the last 37 days were thrown out of sorts. The silence that had become second nature was gone, and I found it hard to pray and listen when the trail turned into a kind of human highway.
Then I spotted a mother and daughter praying the Rosary together.
Passersby would interrupt them with greetings and comments, the casual chatter of the trail. They would offer a friendly reply, then simply resume. No frustration. No losing their place in spirit, even if they lost their place in the prayer.
They inspired me. Doggone it, if they can do it, so can I.
Here were two pilgrims showing me that prayer can survive an interruption. You just pick it back up. And the serenity I'd asked for that morning finally showed up.
I started to see the crowd differently, too. With the new pilgrims comes a noticeable shift in energy. The anticipation of Santiago is beginning to feel real. The newcomers (and those who've made a longer journey) may not all be able to articulate why they chose to walk the Camino, but something drew them. I believe it's the desire for something more. A closer relationship with Christ. Even if they can't put a name on it, that's what it is.
Thirty-seven days into the Camino, sixty years into my life, and I'm still learning how to pray.
