Potes to Espinama

The phrase, “The Fix is In,” implies that an individual has tampered with something so that they can manipulate the outcome or change the results.

We tamper with people all the time. Perhaps we don't have malice in our intentions. We may truly think we have the person's best interests at heart. But do we?

Yesterday, Bonnie fell on a steep, slippery, muddy incline. I was about 15 yards in front of her on a switchback and heard her cry of surprise and then the snap of one of her hiking poles. Thankfully, there was no scream of pain. I came rushing back down the path to find Bonnie back on her feet, rubbing her palm, her shin, and holding her broken pole.

I’m not mechanically minded, but I attempted to magically reconnect the two pieces, but it was limp and lifeless, never to support again.

Bonnie told me to get back climbing and followed behind with her remaining pole.

I love my hiking poles. I have walked over 2000 miles with mine. They save my back on the inclines, my knees on the declines, and help me keep my rhythm on the straightaways. They also keep my hands from swelling, which can happen when you swing your hands below your waist as you walk. Just try to remove your ring after a five-hour hike without poles, and you will understand.

While the views on yesterday’s Camino stage were glorious, the gradients and the terrain were nasty both up and down. Bonnie was in for a difficult day.

I tried finding her another walking stick, showing her one that would have made Gandalf proud.

“No, Dad. I don’t need it. Please put it down.”

I kept checking on her. She said she was okay, just bruised, including her ego.

I asked her if it was more difficult going up. She said she was walking slower because she had to be more careful now. I appreciated that.

I asked her if it was more difficult going down. She responded that she was taking smaller steps and would shift the remaining pole from hand to hand when needed. Later she told me holding it in her left hand hurt because of the bruise.

I moved on ahead of her, getting to the top of a clearing to start strategizing how to get her a new pair of poles. I tried to think which of our upcoming stops would be quickest and easiest to get a delivery. I logged on to Amazon.es to select a pair. Just then Bonnie arrived and said, “I’m trying to find the value in walking with one pole. I think there is a reason for this happening today, and I’m processing it now.”

I closed the browser without saying anything to her and then acted like I was taking photos of the mountains.

I kept checking on her throughout the day. She never complained. In fact, she shared how grateful she was that her pole had done its job. It took the brunt of the fall and broke instead of her. She never once played the victim, nor did she let it affect our day. But I let it affect mine.

After arriving in town, we cleaned up and walked up to the monastery to obtain our final stamp on our Lebaniego credentials, receive our certificates of completion, and visit The Cross in the chapel.

I had an interesting prayer time, sitting in a pew, a few feet away from what the Catholic Church believes to be pieces of the actual cross that Jesus was crucified on. Whether it actually is or isn’t didn’t matter to me at the moment. I found myself deeply moved by sacrifice, empathy, and love.

These days I don’t hold tightly to the same catechisms I was raised with regarding the cross. They hold up about as well as my hiking pants.

Anyways, I came to the cross yesterday with a list of cares, mostly about people I care about. But I didn’t think that either the symbolism of the cross or the literal thing was a fix to these needs. I prayed for presence; I prayed for hope; I prayed for love.

I left feeling heard. I left feeling comforted. I left not feeling alone.

On the walk back to the village, I told Bonnie I wanted to stop in a few of the local shops to see if I could find a replacement scallop shell for the one that had broken on my backpack. While we didn’t find a shell, miracle of miracles, I found hiking poles!

Bonnie wasn’t that interested at first, but with some prodding, she left the store with two new hiking poles. I was relieved.

Today was a longer stage than yesterday, with even more elevation. We had new energy after a great night of sleep. We flew up the inclines through a glorious forest of oak, chestnut, and beech trees. We had quiet times of reflection as well as meaningful discussions.

I was about to praise her for changing her mind about getting the new poles (and in doing so, patting myself on my backpack) when she said something startling. “You know, Dad, I really was fine with just using one pole.”

“Then why did you buy the new ones?”

“I guess it was mostly for you. I knew you weren’t okay with me just having one pole, and you wouldn’t be fully present until it was resolved. I bought poles so that you could move forward.”

Ouch.

This is what got us talking about fixing people, and how often our ‘altruistic motives’ are honestly more about our own comfort than about how others are doing. Our meddling isn’t helping. In reality it could be pushing them away. 

We need to let go of our false sense of control and thinking we know best.

Because what they really need is to feel heard, to be comforted, and to not feel alone.

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