- Time of past OR future Camino
- Frances 15,16,18
VdlP 23, Invierno 23, Fisterra 23
The Candle Lady
One of the joys of walking the Camino Frances, is its popularity.
OK that might sound odd, and I admit at times the sheer number of Pilgrims on the path can detract from that Iconic Pilgrim experience, whatever that is.
But the positive side is that you get to meet and interact with lots of people from all over the World. And once you have been walking for a few days. The faces start to become very familiar. Itâs not surprising really, as in the âheight of the seasonâ, you might be in a âslugâ of 300-400 Pilgrims passing along the Camino. So you start to see the same facesâŠ. everywhere!
One of those faces was the âcandle ladyâ.
I love to stop at the open churches along the way. In fact, I have a little ritual. To begin I say a prayer of thanks for being able to make this journey, then I promise to be open to any lessons that I might learn along the way. And lastly, I light a candle for one of my dearly departed. Maybe my Mother, who I never heard complain about anything, ever. Or my Father, who never once said âI love youâ but didnât need to, or my Grandmother. Oh, my Grandmother! Never without a glass of gin and tonic in one hand and a cigarette in the other. How I loved that woman of another era who just understood people and made them all feel so loved.
But the candle lady!
When ever I stopped at a church, she was there.
In the front row of pews. Hands clasped in prayer. Looking up at the statues of Jesus on the Cross. I couldnât help it, but I had to watch. What thoughts were going through that mind? What help might she be seeking?
She had the face of an angel. Calm, sweet, a person you would want to talk to, a person you would want to know. She was Asian. About 5 feet nothing and a hundred pounds. To the casual observer, Korean perhaps? A lot of Koreans walk the Camino.
No, she was not Korean. She was Thai. In fact raised in a Buddhist culture with a Buddhist father and a Muslim mother. And yet here she is, in church after church, giving thanks to God and lighting candles for her departed relatives. What magic the Camino weaves?
As I look upon that face, lighting yet another candle, I realise this is a woman I could loveâŠâŠ. forever.
And I realise how lucky I am, because she is my wife of 20 years. Pat.
One of the joys of walking the Camino Frances, is its popularity.
OK that might sound odd, and I admit at times the sheer number of Pilgrims on the path can detract from that Iconic Pilgrim experience, whatever that is.
But the positive side is that you get to meet and interact with lots of people from all over the World. And once you have been walking for a few days. The faces start to become very familiar. Itâs not surprising really, as in the âheight of the seasonâ, you might be in a âslugâ of 300-400 Pilgrims passing along the Camino. So you start to see the same facesâŠ. everywhere!
One of those faces was the âcandle ladyâ.
I love to stop at the open churches along the way. In fact, I have a little ritual. To begin I say a prayer of thanks for being able to make this journey, then I promise to be open to any lessons that I might learn along the way. And lastly, I light a candle for one of my dearly departed. Maybe my Mother, who I never heard complain about anything, ever. Or my Father, who never once said âI love youâ but didnât need to, or my Grandmother. Oh, my Grandmother! Never without a glass of gin and tonic in one hand and a cigarette in the other. How I loved that woman of another era who just understood people and made them all feel so loved.
But the candle lady!
When ever I stopped at a church, she was there.
In the front row of pews. Hands clasped in prayer. Looking up at the statues of Jesus on the Cross. I couldnât help it, but I had to watch. What thoughts were going through that mind? What help might she be seeking?
She had the face of an angel. Calm, sweet, a person you would want to talk to, a person you would want to know. She was Asian. About 5 feet nothing and a hundred pounds. To the casual observer, Korean perhaps? A lot of Koreans walk the Camino.
No, she was not Korean. She was Thai. In fact raised in a Buddhist culture with a Buddhist father and a Muslim mother. And yet here she is, in church after church, giving thanks to God and lighting candles for her departed relatives. What magic the Camino weaves?
As I look upon that face, lighting yet another candle, I realise this is a woman I could loveâŠâŠ. forever.
And I realise how lucky I am, because she is my wife of 20 years. Pat.