Today is a day of rest for me, and it is sorely needed.  Yesterday I arrived in Burgos, a 24 kilometer walk, soaked. I had sopping wet socks, a slight limp, and a feeling of desperation for warmth.  On the outskirts of the city, my tendons refused to go further, and I had to stop for a short break, one of only two since it rained the entire day. Because the city is large, the walk took another hour and a half after the break. I was contemplating suffering and pain a lot, though really it was more discomfort than real pain.

The camino winds through the city and then outside the city to the large albergue, or pilgrim hostel.  I was incredibly angry that the camino did not post signs for other closer albergues, and the large one was cold, dirty, and far from the city center. But I kept telling myself that all I needed was hot water for a shower, and a dry place to sleep.  I had both, and for that I gave thanks. I ate the remainder of my sausage and cheese, curled up in a blanket, and napped for a few hours.

What woke me was not noise from other pilgrims but my cold feet, which were out of luck because all my socks were wet, as were my boots.  I had to go into the city to buy food and to find a place to sleep for my rest day. But if I left, I´d have to wear my sandals without socks, exposing my feet to the wind and rain.  Uggghhhh.

But something inside me roused myself from bed.  I put on my sandals, grabbed a hot chocolate from the machine, and braved the weather to search for things needed in the city.  Thankfully, the rain diminished to a sprinkle, and my feet were not too cold.  I headed for the Cathedral to tour it and to get warm inside.  It is quite beautiful and well laid out, which it should be for the $5 admission price. :)  After, I found a sporting good store for more socks and a new, smaller sleeping bag. I even found a budget hotel with a full bathroom, and so I darted back to the albegue to grab my things and move to the hotel.  I was headed for comfort!  I even took time on the way back to the albergue for my things -- yes, me, taking time! -- for a tea at a cafe.  I was beginning to heal from the day´s trek.

Remarkably, despite all the rain and cold, nothing really dampened my spirit or my sense that I am happy to be where I am.  During the day on the way to Burgos, the rain picked up, and I began to chuckle to myself, "This is not what I envisioned, and I hate the rain. Why exactly am I here again?"  The answer was quick and as close as my breath, "Because I love Jesus."  Remarkable.

Sitting in the cathedral, contemplating a 16th century altar piece that did not inspire me, I began to wonder what it would be like to soak in this weird, strange, Spanish Baroque faith.  I stopped thinking and just invited the Spirit to pray in me, to pray the camino and this cathedral and this faith in me.  It´s like what Paul said in Romans, that our spirit bears witness to the Spirit with groans and expressions we do not understand.  I asked that I might be taken up into prayer.

This sounds a bit more mystical and sentimental than it was (or perhaps I´m afraid of being seen as mystical or sentimental), but the end result was an affirmation that the road of rain and cold was the route to prayer.  Not that I HAVE to experience discomfort or pain in order to pray, but this is the way I took and what came of it.  To get to Burgos on May 10 required walking in the rain.  Walking the cold way I did is what brought me to a place and space of prayer.  For that I am grateful. And for the love which it evokes I am very happy.

Plus, a bath, a private room, and a regular meal will do wonders for a road weary traveler.  Tonight I may even eat dinner at the Pizza Hut down the road....