This past week, there’ve been a lot of questions about snails. The kids are fascinated with them. Part of it is that snails that live in the garden here. We didn’t have them at home, but here at the grandparents’ house, you can see them oozing their silvery slippery paths every evening right outside the front door. And the biggest question is: where do snails sleep? In their shells, yes. But do they have homes as well? Do they always sleep in the same place?
This morning, we’re snails again. We’ve got the old station wagon packed to the gunwales, and we’re heading east again, away from Vancouver Island and back towards Ontario. Days and days of driving ahead, with kids in the backseat, and hope on the horizon. Perhaps that last bit is an exaggeration. We did this journey at the end of April, but children grow over a summer. It’s going to be a different journey this time. For one thing, we will be camping. Last time, we stayed with friends or in motels. And it was cold. Now, we’ve got bugs and heat to contend with. It is going to be a bit of a slog, I think.
But yesterday, appropriately, was the feast day of St James. Santiago Day, for all you pilgrims out there. It’s a bit of an important day for Spouse and me—not so much as an anniversary, but more as a symbol, Maybe a reminder. Five years ago, we walked across Spain—31 days from the French Pyrenees to the Spanish town of Santiago de Compostella. It’s an ancient walk, dating back over a thousand years. Another hard journey, but a wonderful one, too. Spending all your time walking gives you so much time to think. This year, the feast day falls on a Sunday, which makes it a Jacobean Holy Year. The town of Santiago must have been packed yesterday for the spectacle. The cathedral there was certainly full when we finished our pilgrimage, with some of our friends from the road needing to stand during the service because the pews were so crowded. Yesterday, with the holy year hordes, it must have been heaving with people.
One of the powerful memories I have of that final day of our pilgrimage is of sitting in church at the end of all of our walking and hearing ourselves mentioned. As part of the pilgrim mass, a priest makes a point of reading out the names of the countries of all the arriving pilgrims. Canada! That’s us. We’re here! Our origin and our destination linked and proclaimed. Past, present and future connected.
That day of five years ago feels a bit like ancient history, now. Way back before the kids came along. BC,as someone put it the other day—Before Children. Sometimes, I remember events from those Neolithic days and I find myself wondering where Blue was or who was holding Beangirl. It’s like they’ve become ghosts in my past, in the days before they were born. But now they are travellers on the journey, too.
At the beginning of all this peregrination of ours, a minister friend of mine reminded me that the people of God are a pilgrim people. There’s a good Old Testament image for you. Though I suppose you could group Paul in with the pilgrim people, too. And it’s become a bit of a mantra for me. We are all travelling, one way or another, aren’t we? Learning how to trust God in all situations. Learning that nothing is permanent, that everything shifts and changes, but that God provides people and places for us along the way. And that God is present in those people and those places, too.
We had some great encounters on our recent travels out here to Vancouver Island. I already mentioned the marvellous Mrs. W. and her hospitality. We also got to experience worship with the good people of Trinity Presbyterian Church in Winnipeg in their movie theatre home. And we got to poke around the Vancouver School of Theology, including the library and its fascinating collection of theological journals (perhaps this sounds sarcastic, but trust me—I’m serious. I could have spent a long time in that place, perusing.)
Who knows what’s in store for us on the road this time around. I think that we’ll be somewhere on the prairies come Sunday August 1. Anyone have any great recommendations of churches to aim for? Or any other communities we should visit on the grand trek across? Either for worship or with a good bit of grass where we can pitch our tent. Please pray for us snails while we’re on the road—and I’ll report back with stories of who and what we find out there.
