Good friends of ours are on a 200-mile pilgrimage on the Cammino di Assisi in Italy. They are walking from Florence to Assisi, following the footsteps of St. Francis of Assisi. In the hot summer sun. With their packs on their backs. Up mountains and down.
I started just now to write who they were - husband/father, wife/mother, 16-year-old daughter - but then caught myself because they are not journeying as roles but as individual persons, each a human being. B~ and N~ and E~, traveling together as companions with one another and others they’ve been meeting on the trial, but each a self, Imago Dei.
Me too - wife, mother, daughter, writer - journeying here at this desk, in this family and in this neighborhood and community spiralling out, not as a role but as a person, Imago Dei.
I was going to write more, but I think I’ll leave it at that. For today, that’s enough from me.
I’ll let the final word be one written by the-wise-beyond-her-years E~ on day nine of their journey:
The things I didn’t know I was learning through the everyday occurrences back home have thrust themselves to the forefront of my mind on this trip, claiming their prominent place by sheer necessity. We have learned to keep putting one foot in front of the other. We have learned to rise early, and to greet the sunrise with a cappuccino in hand if at all possible. We have learned that the top of the hill does not mean the end, does not mean that you can quit. We have learned Endurance. We have learned Quiet Strength. We have learned that, if you put your mind to if, you can go on for a bit longer.
You can follow their pilgrimage on their blog here.
[Photo: taken of a mosaic tile cross I keep on top of a bookcase. A fitting location for a cross, yes?]