Sunday, May 5
Norm and Marge Minnesota leave town with me, then I walk alone the rest of the day. Glorious sunshine! The cool breeze picks up appropriately as I pass over Alto de Perdon, wrought iron pilgrims pushing into the wind beside me.
God is indeed with me, leading my baby steps toward him, and I vow to not stress again over any decision on the Camino. I relinquish not only control, but my natural desire to know my direction ahead of time. I will go each day wherever I feel led, and keep going until God leads me to stop. There is no downside to faith.
Walking, no, strutting toward Eunate, I let the tears flow down my dusty cheeks. Tears of frustration turn into tears of love and joy and faith and gratitude. Water into wine. Arriving an hour later at the Iglesia de Santa Maria de Eunate, a 12th-century Romanesque church, I gratefully remove my backpack, then my boots, then my socks, and walk around the cobblestone path beneath the surrounding arches, letting the ancient stones massage my tired feet. After entering the silent sanctuary, I sit and pray with eyes wide open, soaking in the rustic splendor. But only for a minute or two, as a large, silent nun enters and gestures to me to leave, as she locks the door behind me. Smiling, I leave not only a few euro, but my heart in the basket by the door.