603.78 miles. That’s the final count for miles walked in 2018 on my fitness app. (That’s almost like walking across the entire state of Texas!) This year was a year of walking – physically, emotionally, and spiritually. As a result, my feet, heart, and soul went on all kinds of adventures! Some steps were those of a daily routine and training while others were steps into places of wonder and joy. Still others led me to challenging and sad places, where love was tested and courage wavered. 

Instead of counting the places and scenes from this past year (because yes, that includes the Camino! The Grand Canyon! Zion National Park!) my heart simply rests in the greatest gift of them all:

I can walk!

That’s a lot more than I could have said in years gone by, crippled in one way or another by physical, emotional, or spiritual wounds.

If you told me in 2013 that I would walk the Camino five years later, I would have thought it a joke (or had visions of being pulled by oxen). Because at this time five years ago, my right foot and leg were extended in a big black “boot” cast, healing from a fracture caused by too much walking. In September of that year, I had the great privilege of walking my first big “hike” which was actually nothing like a hike at all. It was a pilgrimage in upstate New York. I walked about 65 miles in 2.5 days from Lake George to Auriesville in the company of dozens of fellow Catholics – men, women, and children. It was an incredible experience. We walked the same route on which many of the North American Jesuit martyrs were led toward their martyrdom, hundreds of years ago.

While the experience was fruitful for my soul, the walk itself was too much for my feet to handle. At some point in the journey, I developed a fracture. Thinking my pain was no different than anyone else’s (and not wanting to take the “wimp wagon”) I finished the route, walking on the fracture. I couldn’t have done it without the help of a few gracious souls who encouraged me along the way. My cousin in particular was a lifesaver to me. He would walk behind me and “lift” my backpack off my shoulders whenever we came to a steep hill. (Thanks, cousin!)

When I came home from the pilgrimage and couldn’t walk at all, the doctor immediately put my leg in a cast. The injury left me homebound – dependent on others for rides and unable to climb a simple flight of stairs in less than 20 minutes. My hopes and dreams of making any journey by foot, let alone my longstanding dream of one day walking the Camino, seemed to vanish in a fog of pain, healing, and host of complications that ensued in years to follow.

This place of “sedentary confinement” was a physical one by nature. However, I can relate this time in my life to others, where suffering, loss, or even sin made me feel like I was broken, stuck, and officially beyond repair. And I bet you know what I mean, don’t you?

Those times in my life seemed like they would last forever. And to be honest, I cannot quite recount the moment I actually started limping out of those debilitating places in my life. But the when doesn’t really matter, because:

I am walking! Moving from right to left, up and down, limping along (usually out of breath), and every once and awhile soaring above the clouds.

And this year alone, my once broken foot took me across 603.78 miles by just placing one foot in front of the other. With the proper care, time for healing, and carefully calculated training, my foot did not waver. And just like that, my heart too, has recovered.

I may not be able to place when it happened, but I can tell you it didn’t happen overnight. It took a lot of patience, a whole lot of waiting, and the willingness to let some of those dreams go. The time spent tending to these wounds proved to be one of the greatest healing agents of them all. And the same foot that broke in the Adirondack Mountains on pilgrimage made it through the hills of Galacia Spain to the foot of the Cathedral at Santiago de Compostela – five years later. That, my friends, is nothing short of a miracle.

Perhaps your eyes will open upon this new year 2019 in a state of stillness. Maybe you are unable to move from trauma of loss, suffering, or sin. Your feet might be broken and the cast might still be on from your past falls. If this is the case, dear reader, do not lose hope. Let the new year greet you as it will… in this year, you WILL learn how to walk again. Be they baby steps or running leaps, you will begin to move forward in the exact time needed to make a full (and even more complete!) recovery.

Allow yourself the receptivity to time and healing. And who knows? Maybe 2019 will be the year you walk again!

Mark my words: you WILL go places and distances you never thought possible. Like 603.78 miles – or more!

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And oh, how aware I am that I am not here alone. Like my cousin, a few dear souls have, without being asked or rewarded, encouraged me to take steps, joined me on the journey, and have taken delight with me in the wonders along the way. I wouldn’t be here today were it not for these dear friends. As 2018 comes to a close and a new year dawns even brighter on the horizon, I thank God for the gift of walking and the movement that drives me always forward. Come, join me!

Verso l’alto!

Happy New Year! ~ Mary