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We hiked into Santiago de Compostela 48 days since the start of our journey. Walking through the historic arch, into the plaza to a breathtaking view of the Cathedral and its intricate scaffolding. I mentioned the scaffolding to my friend from the UK and she said “oh, well it wouldn’t be a proper European cathedral without scaffolding, now would it.” Scaffolding or no scaffolding we were standing in front of the resting place of Saint James and it was transformative. Well probably the resting place of Saint James, let’s be honest, a lot could have happened since 40AD. James or no James, we were standing in front of the destination of our pilgrimage, the pilgrimage for thousands of people for over ten centuries, it was a holy moment.
We shuffled over to the pilgrims' office to receive our Compostela, our official certification of completion. We “proved” our pilgrimage in the almost 80 stamps we had collected throughout our journey. A Compostela is the best kind of souvenir, one that can’t be bought with anything but your sweat.
Then I purchased some proper woman’s deodorant (after spending time with my friend from the UK, I have decided I have greatly underutilized the word proper in my life, and I plan to rectify that). Let me tell you it is amazing to again smell of baby powder. Never will I compromise on this in the future, I learned things about myself on this pilgrimage. We then showered up, I put on more deodorant because I could, and we prepared for Saturday evening Mass in the cathedral.
I don’t have pictures. This wasn’t an event, it was worship. The cathedral was packed, every pew filled and others standing in the back, Christ’s people who had journeyed from all over the world to this holy place. We live at a time in which Christians have built a reputation for taking the easy way, not this bunch. Hundreds of pilgrims who pressed through the pain to show up for their Father. Perhaps the Camino is about the willingness to show up for Christ in a way that is counterintuitive. Do you walk when you could ride, do you deny self for your fellow traveler, do you choose to leave the comfort of your pantry to see if Christ will provide. Can you show up? We participated in the ceremony, absolving our sins (maybe, our español is not so bueno). We were blessed with the holy water to remember our baptism. Then we were connected through the liturgy back to our Father in heaven. I’m a Free Methodist through and through, but man, I am telling you the Catholics really know how to do this well.
And then unexpectedly, one of the nuns came, she quickly and quietly asked if Charlotte would read the English scripture for the service. My daughter participated in the service, reading the holy scripture at the foot of Saint James. She was confident, clear and brave, having been well-trained at Saint Paul’s, but also as if she had grown on this trail, from a girl into a young woman of God. This mama doesn’t need a picture to remember that moment. Finally, we climbed up the stairs to see Saint James, each taking our opportunity to tell him what we came to tell him. Every kilometer, every ache, every rash (yes, rash), worth it. WORTH IT.
I don’t have this pilgrimage figured out yet, it’s not over. Except that it is. We walked up to our last shell at the Cathedral, recognizing that the transition from the Camino to life had begun. Each of us able to say that indeed, it has been a Buen Camino.
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