Fear and Faith

A time of concern July 21

It is very early morning and I can't sleep. My world is about to change in some very fundamental ways and I'm freaking out on the inside. Leea is leaving for home this morning and I am sad to the point of tears. We have had a wonderful time and are like two old friends who know each other intimately. There is very little left of the mother daughter relationship. She is a person I truly enjoy. I don't know if we will ever have the opportunity, or will ever take the opportunity to spend this much time together. We could book a week in the desert at home, something much less expensive and exacting, but we both have lives and get busy and forget to make the time.

But what is going on this morning is not really about the sadness of Leea leaving, it is about the Camino and the little voice inside of me that is screaming, "What were you thinking!?!" "You are almost sixty six years old and have arthritis in almost every joint in your body. The pack is too heavy, you are not strong enough to carry it and you can't or won't think of anything you can leave behind." I think it is the bitches in the attic, but as I leave the hotel this morning I need to decide what goes in the pack and what goes in the suitcase to go home with Leea.

I am scared. To some extent I remember this feeling from the sixty mile breast cancer walks I've done, especially the first one and the one after my knee surgery. But the little voice keeps asking, "Why are you doing this? Why not just hop on the plane and go home with Leea? Summer is nice at home. I have a car there, I don't have to walk. I have friends there. I will be without English speaking meetings for more than a month. Yikes! What was I thinking?" I don't suppose I will know why I'm doing this until I do it, and maybe not even then. I feel I need to try. I need to get myself and my pack to St Jean in France and take the first step. I also need to keep in mind the difference between God's will and mine, the difference between perseverance and insane obsession, and between a pilgrimage and a death march. Hopefully I will remain open to the small still voice that helps me differentiate between these poles.

But I am scared. Maybe I scared of the physical hardships, or maybe I'm scared of the spiritual hardships, the lessons there are for me to learn. One lesson I am already learning is how selfish and self centered I still am. I'm feeling abandoned out here, like the world has moved on. Maybe I'm seeing what the world would look like if I died. I remove myself from California and the hole is filled and everyone moves on. Somehow I think they should all be missing me, writing me notes and sharing their lives. But they are just yakking about their daily stuff like I'm not even here, like I don't exist any more. I am shocked to discover I am not the center of the universe, the world doesn't revolve around me, and you don't exist only in relationship to me. Twenty eight years of sobriety and not much growth. Well, that is one spiritual truth I probably was fearful about seeing so clearly.

So, I suppose, I am back to "If it be Your will." My part is to not pack my fears, to put on my pack and my boots and take the first step, and each step that I can after that, the lessons, the joys, the hardships and the ability physically to take the next step is His business. Please God, be with me.