We left at six, handed back the keys, had a coffee and were on our way. The morning was fresh and pleasant. Walking through farmlands was a pleasure.
(When we left, there was a pilgram sleeping outside of where we stayed. He did not know about the arrangement to pick up the key from a coffee shop in town!)
Our text that we read this morning was also the instruction of St Benedict to his monks. In the tradition of John Cassian, they should constantly pray Ps 71:11 "O God, be not far from me: O my God, make haste for my help."
As we walked I meditated on this verse. I interpreted it for my own situation. Not so much that God should miraculously give me wings to fly over the road. No, the help I required was to be freed from my own ego and become the person God intended me to be.
The miracle of the day did however take place. We had one bread bun for breakfast. On the road there layed a bun. I wanted to poke it with my walking stick. I bent over and picked it up. This bun was fresh out of the oven, clean as if someone placed it their. It was a small portion of manna from heaven. And therein lays the miracle; to experience God in the small things. The mysteries were served to us.
When Ansie asks if there is not a place where we can get a cold beer, you know we are hot and tired. We stopped for a cold beer on the tap and staggered into Barcelos at 15:00. We had to walk another km to the albergue, had something for lunch/dinner and getting ready to go to bed.
Why are we so tired? It feels as if we are running a marathon every day. Tomorrow it is 35 km again.
"O my God, make haste for my help."
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