Last weekend, I found myself back in what felt like my “home church” – the annual World Vision major donor conference. The affection and care lavished on me by many friends—both former colleagues and dear World Vision supporters—was overwhelming. So many told me of their sustaining prayers for me this past year and of their gratitude for my presence, that my willingness simply to attend the gathering was a testimony and encouragement to them.

The weekend was also a chance to celebrate the successful consummation of my first nudge from God a few months after my wife Janet’s death, when I was able to drive the connection between World Vision’s microfinance program and a game-changing technology tool called DreamSave. It was wonderful to host the DreamSave leaders and celebrate together that, despite their CEO’s tragic death, their “dream” would now be positioned to have even more impact on the world’s poor going forward.

Finally, the weekend also released me to focus on what I believe is God’s next major nudge in my life. Since God lovingly woke me up through the DreamSave episode [see this post for background] to the reality that I’m still alive, that I still have usefulness for the Kingdom, that I still have a life I’m accountable to live… I’ve been watching for God’s next prompting. I’d been expecting it to come from a similar direction—something related to nonprofit and humanitarian work. I’m having a few discussions along those lines, yet to my surprise, the clearest and most compelling next nudge is something completely different…

A couple months ago, a friend told me casually that he was soon leaving to walk the Camino de Santiago de Compostela in Spain, the ancient “Way of St. James” pilgrimage. I’d long wanted to experience that journey, but Janet never had the interest nor the health to consider it. So, I simply shelved the idea for “maybe someday after I’m retired.” But my retirement last summer was followed just two weeks later by Janet’s diagnosis of late-stage cancer, and she died just 47 days later.

I visited some family friends the day after being reminded of the Camino. The wife had made the same trek four years ago and loved it, so I asked her about it. As we talked, she and I both felt increasing enthusiasm for me making this pilgrimage at this moment in my life. I began to sense not only excitement but possibly a nudge from God about it, but I decided to put it out of my mind and see if God brought it back. Yet I couldn’t seem to let go of the idea.

This is a long pilgrimage, though many people do only a portion or walk it in sections over several years. The classic route begins just inside France, crosses the Pyrenees, and continues west through northern Spain, ending 500+ miles later at Compostela or further, at Spain’s western coast. If one walks the entire journey, it usually requires about 40 days averaging 12-15 miles per day. 

The clincher for me was a few days later when I realized I could walk it over 47 days—the very same 47 days one year later—spanning from Janet’s diagnosis until her death. I could re-read each of our journal entries from that period, make time daily to reflect, have some extra days for recovery and reflection along the way: a pilgrimage, not a hike. A capstone of some sort on the 50+ years Janet and I had together, a releasing of whatever needs to be released, a journeying from something and also toward something ahead.

As I’ve shared this with a few people I’ve received some wise and godly counsel: Don’t try too hard to define your goals in advance. Let God and your journey reveal to you what this means: that’s what a pilgrimage is for.

I carried in my pocket a small heart-shaped stone of Janet’s during the World Vision conference, as a reminder that we did this ministry together for so many years. I showed the stone to a friend there and later told her about the Camino. She replied, “Do you know the significance of taking a special stone with you and leaving it somewhere along the Camino path? You need to take that stone of Janet’s and leave it there.” I replied that I liked her idea but wasn’t yet sure I was ready to part with the stone. “No Cory,” came her convincing reply, “this is something you need to do. You need to place it there, reflect, and then continue walking.” It was an anointed word for me.

While hiking last Thursday, I met a married couple along the path. I quickly found out they were visiting from France and also training to journey on the Camino in a few weeks, which they’ve been doing in stages over several years.  He commented, “Walking alone is no problem, especially in summer. And you will intersect with many interesting people. Every person will have their own story of why they are on the Camino. And in 15 minutes or two hours you will learn so much about each other… and probably never see each other again in life!” His description was exactly what I was experiencing that very moment, and I was thrilled at the idea of having many redemptive conversations, planting tiny seeds in the hearts of other pilgrims, and opening my heart to their seeds of wisdom, pain, joy, hope.

Then yesterday, I was praying about my Camino plans with one of the wonderful new bereaved friends I have in my life these days. My mind shot back to the encounter with the French couple, and I realized the connection between the Camino de Santiago and the pilgrimage of life… our Camino de la Vida. My physical walking will be a small but tangible confession of life’s truth: that we each travel our own unique pilgrimage. Precious people intersect with our journey, some for decades, some for days. They give me succor and speak words into my heart; I share comfort with them and pour understanding and hope into their lives. We give each other strength for the road ahead. At their best, they are “Jesus with skin on” for me—or I for them.  And isn’t this exactly why we were put on this earth?

Janet’s path and my path intersected for over fifty years! How incredible. Yet no two people walk the same path from start to end. Now our paths have diverged, never to cross again on this earth. Still, my path goes on, so I must walk it. The fog is lifting, the darkness is dissipating, and though I cannot see far ahead, I can see that there is a road I am intended to walk. It is my camino, designed by a loving God, a good path for me to walk in [EPH 2:10].

Walking along the ancient Camino de Santiago, where pilgrims and seekers have journeyed for over 1200 years, is itself a testament to this truth. The Camino has many routes, and it holds every story of every pilgrim who ever traveled it. Paths intersect, have differing starting and ending points. Some journeys are truncated; others are postponed or changed along the way. Perhaps my plans will change. I certainly thought my Camino de la Vida was heading into the sunset of retirement with my dear bride. That path changed course–abruptly.

In 47 days.

Yet now my earthly camino continues. So, I put one foot in front of the other, in life, and in the Spanish dust.

If you’re reading this, our caminos have now intersected. So, as they say in Spain to all pilgrims: Buen Camino!

Cory

April 2024

PS: My expected pilgrimage dates are July 20 to September 5, mapping Janet’s short diagnosis-to-death journey. Much could change between now and then, so I’m keeping my hands and heart and options open. I’d covet your prayers both before and during my camino.