France was beautiful, and their way of life and their food so different from Iowa’s. I would’ve liked to stay longer to reflect on it all and just be-without moving forward every day. But it made no sense for me to stay on for my planned immersion week in Collioure once I got a phone call from Charly’s nursing home that he was not doing well again. So, I came home the same day Elizabeth did. Whew! A long day of waiting for busses, seeking non-existent train seats, and carrying our luggage over Barcelona streets to get to IMT (Iberian Motor Tours) where my rolling carry-on was waiting for me.
It was a very long day getting to Barcelona and the next day even longer getting home. But being back in Iowa has been good. Greg met me in Chicago. The fall colors were just beginning to be amazing. The farm was waiting for us to have our second overnight as I recovered from jet jag, and, I was closer to Charly and all things home.
What started in Le Puy en Velay, France, my pilgrimage to St. Jean Pied le Port, in southwestern France, has now become something different than a dream of a long walk. Now it is a personal challenge. Hiking with an injured knee was harder and different. Hiking with my daughter also made it different and more lovely because of her kind and steady presence all along the way. Why was I doing this walk? Do I really need to go all the way to Santiago in western Spain for it to be a pilgrimage? (Darn Canadians who argued thus, saying that otherwise I’m just doing a long walk. But what’s wrong with that?) Mostly, right now, I’m just wanting to be able to enjoy easy walks around home or at the farm. Walking in the grocery store shouldn’t be hard. I’ve tried physical therapy and it is now time to talk to my primary care physician and get a referral to an orthopedic surgeon. I want to be happy about walking again. And, hopeful about life in general. This torn meniscus has given me pause and lessons in patience and a newfound compassion on others with mobility issues, but after 6 months, I’m ready to be healed.
Spending more time in southwestern Iowa with Charly and communicating regularly with his staff and providers have been important. After his appointment in Clarinda, we drove to Stanton for our walk down memory lane and for our lunch at the Fika Coffee Haus. Charly knew the new owner; he has old friends wherever we go.
But leaving Collioure a week early, trekking home, re-entry, checking in on Charly, and dealing with a tired and painful knee, and making sense of it all, is sometimes hard. How to connect France, hiking, pain, blessings of all sorts, and this call to be home to help my brother. Perhaps committing to blog about one thing at a time will help.
Walking in France from Le Puy en Velay 