Pilgrimage – Part 5 of 7

St. Cuthbert’s Way, Day 4, Morebattle to Kirk Yetholm

Saturday morning was one of my favorite portions of the pilgrimage.  On awakening Julie asked me if I slept well.  “No, I slept very little.  Not for any reason, I just could not sleep.”  “I didn’t sleep at all until early morning, maybe two hours ago,” she responded.  Then she told me about her night.  It was glorious.  God talked to her all night..for hours and hours.  “Last night I realized what this pilgrimage is about for me.  I was praying for answers about the urge to do this and the answers came through loud and clear,” she continued.  God told her that she needed to stop praying for herself but rather to pray, “What do You want me to do for You?” and she immediately committed to do exactly as He said. “I always prayed for God to help me because I’m always so scared of everything.  And I’m much better about fear than I was before the trip,” is her current report!  She had told me that she wanted to be a “saint,” meaning that she wants to be pure enough to see God’s face.  Through the night she kept begging Him to show her His face.  Finally He responded by letting her hear His voice, not actually audible to human ears but in her spirit and in a way that shook her to the core.  It was like electricity shooting through her body and when she could bear no more she said, “Stop, please let me sleep!”

We discussed the pilgrimage so far.  She told me that for her it was phenomenal; the only thing she could think while walking was, “It’s so beautiful.  Thank You!”  She felt bad telling me how wonderful it was for her because she knew I was having such a hard time.  I said, “Please don’t feel bad to tell me; that is what was keeping me going.”  I have to admit that I was feeling a little jealous and asking God why I couldn’t be having the same kind of experience; that is what I had hoped for in coming on pilgrimage.  Julie kept thanking me for coming because she would not have come alone.  I had to thank her as well for coming; I would have come alone but the unexpected hardship on the trail would have been difficult to impossible without her along.  It was obvious that both of us were destined to be there together and the trip would not have been complete otherwise.

Then we talked about being Marys and Marthas.  We both are Marthas that want to be Marys.  I said aloud that yes, but it’s not bad to be a Martha, someone has to do the stuff.  Silently I prayed, “God, if I am only here for Julie then that is okay with me.”  Julie says, “I was blessed to be Mary the entire trip.”  That makes me very happy.  Later Julie told me that ‘her’ song is “I Saw God Today” by George Strait and related to me a time that, when she was seeking a deeper relationship with God, He had miraculously demonstrated His presence to her.

I was amazed as we shared our spiritual walks as well as what we hoped for on the pilgrimage.  Even though we have lived most of our adult lives separated by a thirteen year age difference and thousands of miles, our walk is very similar in the things He is working in us and in the ways we are wanting to grow.  Also similarly we both suffer from related immune disorders and both of us were grieving the loss of careers that we loved.  We were very thankful for God’s presence, provision, leading, and protection thus far. 

After a wonderful time of bonding and sharing what God is doing in each of us we determined that it would be better for both of us to complete the next three days by car or bus.  So, when we went down for breakfast we booked a room at Border Hotel in Kirk Yetholm, the halfway point of the pilgrimage, and scheduled a taxi pickup. 

After three days of rain, March 16th had dawned gloriously sunny and remained so until late afternoon.  Our day in Kirk Yetholm was wonderful—peaceful and relaxing. While Julie walked the loop of St. Cuthbert’s Way that passes Kirk Yeltham and spent time at a church, I explored the Yetholms, Town Yetholm and Kirk Yetholm.  Near our hotel was a sheep pasture filled with beautiful, frolicking lambs.  A rushing river divides the two towns and, although it was still winter, spring flowers were coming out everywhere through the rest of the trek.  The towns are stunning, ancient-looking and exactly what movies about rural Scotland look like.  The cathedrals also were built many years ago and I spent time praying and exploring the one between our hotel and the sheep pasture.

It was mid-trip and I was pretty grimy.  Our room was equipped not only with a radiator and heated drying rack but there was also a heated towel rack!  What better place to do laundry than here.  Julie went first; she had been washing most nights so had far less than me.  When she was done I went to work on my mess using both the huge bathtub and the lavatory.  Scottish mud does not wash out by hand.  I would smell better but still be grungy looking till I got home to my wonderful washing machine.

Late afternoon a storm arrived.  The latch on one of our windows was broken and the strong, cold wind kept blowing it open.  “For some strange reason it made my heart happy,” Julie says.  As I love the sound of heavy rain pounding on the roof we both had happy hearts that evening.

The following is Julie’s FB post of the day:  “The hotels here are ancient!  We have been receiving 2 keys. One to our room door, and one to the front door of the hotel. We are here off season and the staff are often not here. Tonight we do not have a room number. We are staying in room Tweed. The hotel cooks all our meals and they are so, so delicious. Today I included one page of the menu because I had to spend a little time on google to know what to order. I also included a video of me trying to find our room after returning from the trek. This was my second try. Third time I finally found it!” (sadly the video is lost)

The food at Border Hotel was, of course, delicious!  For lunch I ordered the beet and goat’s cheese salad and we ate in the sunroom soaking up all of the glorious but scarce rays we could.  The dressing was out of this world!  For dinner Julie ate scampi and again I went for a burger, perhaps indecision??  For the first time I was offered regular chips or skinny chips.  Well I can get skinny fries anytime and once again we launched into the ongoing “why are potatoes so much better in Scotland?” conversation.

Symbolism

The pilgrimage, for me, was an allegory of my life. I will tell the story of each day’s trek and following each daily description I will share the particular symbolisms and their meanings as God has shown me for the events and places of that day.

• Kirk Yetholm represents my years in Kolkata (Calcutta), India.
• The spring flowers and beautifully sunny day symbolize the joy of my new life and fulfilling my calling.
• The pasture full of feisty baby lambs picture the fruitfulness of my time there.  Besides my personal spiritual growth I was involved in a number of aspects of ministry from helping street children to writing curriculum.  A huge portion of my time was spent in an impoverished sector close to my apartment.  There I taught English, started a Sidewalk Sunday School for the children, met weekly with the young men of the community, worked with the women, and so much more.  I left part of my heart in that neighborhood and have friends there who still call me Mom and thakurma (grandmother).
• Doing laundry represents beginning to heal from all of the triggers I had developed through my previous life.  I have come a long way in that regard but still am working on those; I pray that all who have unknowingly set those off can forgive my reactions.  Counseling, classes in Christian Spiritual Formation, contemplative practices, and time have and are helping greatly.  Just as the mud did not come out easily the more deeply ingrained trauma takes more work to heal from.
• Getting lost in the hotel reminds me of how disoriented I felt in that crowded city of ten million.  After several months I bought a map, studied it for a few minutes, and from then on I felt that I knew where I was.  It also represents the great difficulty I had in adjusting to South Asian culture which is vastly divergent in most every way from my birth culture.  I had major and long-lasting culture shock.  Even shopping for food left me mentally paralyzed; the shelves were full of foods completely unknown to me, what they were and how one would cook with them were a mystery to me.  Thankfully I lived with my mentor who patiently fed me until, after three months of shopping with her, I finally purchased my first food item.