We Aren’t Designed to “Lone Ranger” Life

Camino de Santiago just beyond Roncesvalles.

After a challenging and impossibly beautiful trek over the Pyrenees, Mel and I spent the night in Roncesvalles before heading to the town of Zubiri. 

We are tired. It’s a hot day. But we’re in good spirits and chattering away as we walk. 

Seriously, we’re walking through the Spanish countryside, past 900-year-old towns as common as Starbucks, without our kids, and no demands on how we spend our days. It’s delightful.

(Side note, as we left Roncesvalles, we walked past a grain silo built by Charlemagne in the 1200s. Wut? My American brain cannot get used to how much of a baby my country of origin is in the grand scheme of the world. But back to the main story.)

Coming around a corner as we pass through a tiny village, we see a young woman sitting on a bench next to a fountain. Her head is hanging low. It’s clear she’s in some discomfort so Mel asks her if she’s ok.

“I’m done. I’m giving up.” 

No “Hello.” No “Thanks for asking.” Just raw, honest emotion. The journey had beat her up and she had nothing left to give.

“Do you want to walk with us for a bit and then you can call for a taxi when we get some cell service?” Mel asks.

Mara (that was her name) looks up. “Yeah, ok.” 

We walk with Mara for the next 5 hours until we reach Zubiri together. Along the way we laugh, swap stories, discuss our local politics (she’s from the Netherlands, which apparently still has a king). We talk about faith, family, hopes, and dreams. 

One little invitation to take a small step forward was all Mara needed. 

I’ve thought about our journey with Mara nearly every day since. It’s a near-perfect microcosm of life. How lonely is life at times? How painful? How many times have I, have you, been like Mara? Sitting alone, beat down, and ready to throw in the towel? 

And we don’t need someone to swoop in and solve our problems. Mel didn’t offer (nor could she) to solve Mara’s aches and pains. Mel offered to walk through the hurt together. 

We aren't designed to go it alone.

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Do You Want to Camino with Me?