Youth Alpha

It's a long gravel drive, past the rugby pitches to the back of the secondary school, Mount Temple. (Secondary school is essentially 7th -12 grade, schools in Ireland take out the "middle school" part of education). 

It must be lunch break, because there are kids everywhere! My heart's racing as I get closer to the school. I see lots of possible entrances, but I want to go to the office. Thankfully the entrance for the office is well labeled. As I enter and try to squeeze past a group of students just loitering around the door, I have to tell myself to breath. Play cool. Don't shake. Most importantly don't let on that you've never stepped inside a school before! 

I sign my name in the visiter book. I'm early, so I find a seat waiting for Andy to come. 

When Andy gets there, he leads me down the school halls lined with students waiting for the bell to ring, toward the staff room. We walk into a room filled with frenzied teachers trying to enjoy a couple of minutes of adult time, or trying to get papers graded, or working on projects for the next class. Andy finds the teacher he's looking for, introducing her as Ms. Burkes telling her we're there to do the Youth Alpha for her class, during the religious class period. 

Ms. Burkes checks her watch, and quickly finishes her lunch, frenzied now that she's lost track of time. She then takes us back into the halls and into a class room. Shortly after we get there, and Andy starts setting up his computer the students start pilling through the door. Tables are picked up and pushed to the sides and the chairs are assembled into a circle. 

Once the computer is set up adequately Andy gets some volunteers to come to the center for a food eating competition. Supposedly it's been scientifically proven that it's impossible to eat 3 digestive biscuits in 1 minutes. (Digestives are like graham crackers). Naturally the kids are game for proving this theory wrong! The first 3 kids though are unable to. The next 3 however, having watched and learned from the first 3 are able to eat 3 digestives in under a minute. Crumbs everywhere! As Ms. Burkes now has to go look for a hoover (vacuum), and Andy and I get the kids to rearrange themselves into small groups of no more than 5 or 4. Once that's done, Andy starts the Youth Alpha video. 

It starts with 2 Canadians guys sharing about who they are and a little about their faith. Then they ask a question "what would you do if you only have 24 hours left to live?", after randomers on the street are interviewed and answer this question, the question gets posed to the kids watching the video. After the kids talk about what they would do if they only had 24 hours left to live, the video continues this time with the Canadians sharing about what Christianity is, without forcing anyone to agree or change beliefs, just encouraging someone to think about what they do believe and why. After a couple more minutes, another question is asked, this time a little deeper. This pattern continues for the rest of the class period. 

I rotate between the different small groups, facilitating the conversation so everyone gets a chance to answer the question without sharing my opinion (unless specifically asked, which is actually so hard for me not to do!). Just encouraging the kids to think about what they believe. 

As the bell rings telling the students it's time to go to the next class there's a hurried scramble of the tables and chairs being set back up in the room so that it's left how we found it. 

I quickly get myself to the door as the kids are leaving to hand out treats to them. Which, depending on the week is either sweets (candy) or biscuits (cookies). 

Food's an important part of Youth Alpha. If we were doing it in a normal youth group setting, we would be doing a proper meal with them every week. But as this is just a class period, we make due with just having biscuits for them. 

As soon as the last student is gone, Ms. Burke tells us a rushed "good-bye and thanks", she'll see us next week as she hurries to her next class. 

I follow Andy back through the maze of school halls to the office, totally turned around, hoping he doesn't catch on that I have no idea where I'm going. 

Kathy, the receptionist, signs us out and I step back into the outside world, buzzing! As only being with teenagers and getting to talk about Jesus can leave you, thankful that I agreed to do this all over again on Friday.

Dallas

During our week in Romania we got to go the Roma community (gypsy camp) and see the world that Zsolti and KJ are part of. (One of the Serge couples we were visiting). 

I had no idea what to expect! I see Romanian Gypsies all over Ireland. I even read a book about Gypsies in England, about a boy that left that community. They've not been very welcomed here in Ireland and even asking a Romanian about them, you can sense a tension of "don't associate me with them!". So all in all I was excited to actually see the Roma in their own community. 

The scene that greeted me when we got to the camp was honestly shocking! We are just outside the city, in the local city dump. Where the livelihood of these people is actually to take care of the city's trash. (The Roma's have been doing this for 500 years!) 

The setting for the Roma camps is absolutely stunning! We're in a sort of valley with little shacks scatted all over the hill. The specific camp that we're in is called Dallas. Just on the hill above is a rival camp. And just a little further down the hill and to the right is yet another rival camp. Some of the shacks are proper little 4-walled houses with wood roofs that missionaries from the Netherlands have helped build for them. Other homes are just 4 walls held up somehow with a tarp and tire roof. It's normal to find a family of 12 or 14 to be living in these homes.  

There is trash littered throughout the entire camp. Upon first getting here I'd seen this sad creature that I actually couldn't tell if it was a dead puppy or simply a stuffed animal. As KJ and Zsolti start taking us down the hill to see more of the community, KJ redirects us as it turns out it is a dead puppy along the way we were going to go. 

In the whole camp there is no running water. Located in various places in the camp are 3 or 4 taps that people collect their water at. In the middle of the camp are outhouses. Somehow there is a bathing system, but it's not a high priority (I'm not actually sure what it is). The chief has electricity, which for a fee, he shares with the family's that want it. 

In the middle of all this are children. Loads of them! Children covered in dirt. With matted hair that stands up on its own. At first they just peek out around the sides of their homes, then they stand more in the open, waving and smiling at us. Then as soon as they recognize KJ and Zsolti they run into KJ's arms! As introductions are slowly made and Vicki and I are taught how to say basic phrases, like "my name is... what's your name?" the children warm up to us. And the next thing I know I've become is a human jungle gym! Children just wanting to be held and swung or just twirled. Just wanting so much to be loved. Thank you Jesus that physical contact crosses all sorts of language barriers!

KJ with a couple of the Roma girls

 

The desire is not to change the culture of the Roma camp, but rather to show the rising generation there's more out there then the dump they live in. This is being done by slowly building relationships with some of the children in the community. By teaching them a skill, through workshops. Zsolti teaches 3 teenage boys craftsmanship. While KJ teaches 3 teenage girls sewing. In the midsts of teaching them a craft, the couple is discipling these teenagers, showing them Jesus by teaching them how to work with their hands. Even though there are many more in the camp then these 6 teens, the desire is to be intentional with these 6 and then they can help assist with the next kids that join the workshops, so that even as they grow in numbers they can still be intentional. Loving these kids and showing them Jesus. 

As Zsolti and KJ show us Dallas one of Zsolti's boys', Florian, joins us. Florian helps Zsolti give us a tour. Then helps Zsolti set up for his workshop. Just in meeting Florian, you can see the respect he has for Zsolti and KJ. As we meet other boys his age, I'm  able to see the self respect Florian actually has for himself, just in the way he carries him and makes eye contact with us. This boy is going to be a leader someday. As he shadows Zsolti, I'm excited to see what God is going to do with this young man!

Give Us This Day Our Daily Bread

As part of my Apprenticeship with Serge at some point during the 2 years I get to go on a mission trip to visit another Serge team in a  different ministry context. To see their world and meet their people. Be able to pray and encourage them. 

Cluj-Napoca Romania

This past April saw me going to Cluj Romania with my team leaders to meet the Cluj team and see their world in Romania. It as fascinating  learning about a post communistic culture. Just last year, I read about Brother Andrew smuggling Bibles into Romania and this year I actually got to go to Romania and meet church leaders that were imprisoned for their faith. As inspiring and convicting as it was to hear stories from such recent history, it was heartbreaking looking around today Cluj and to see the apathy toward Christianity in my generation. Never would you pray for persecution, but it does make you realize what's important in life. Even just to be told you can't believe in Jesus makes you want to believe in Jesus. 

Our first night there we were given a book entitled "Not By Bread Alone". It was a little devotion book made up of Bible verses mostly about food, or lack of food (as the title suggests) and quotes from famous theologians. It was written by a pastor who was actually imprisoned during the communist regime. (His son was actually the pastor at the church the Serge team is part of!) During the week, as a team of 3, we started a little tradition of reading this book with breakfast. Either with food, or instead of food. So literally starting our day with "not by bread alone"! 

For some reason food was not a high priority on this trip. Somewhere during the day we would for sure get a meal, but it was never for sure when. There was a little pastry cafe around the corner from where we were staying, where we would often get something to eat. But we discovered the hard way that everything's closed on Sunday's. But God, miraculously quieted our hunger pangs. I never really got hungry that day, (that never happens to me!). But what was also really crazy was that Vicki, one of my team leaders, has a gluten intolerance. Guess what we ate all week, oh yeah, gluten! God just protected her so she could be present and not get sick. 

So, even though I'll never understand what it was like living in Romania during the communist regime, I feel like God gave us a little example of what it means to trust Him with something as simple as your daily bread. 

Or even what it means to pray expectantly. Even for small things. I feel like I have so many stories from just one week of God showing up! So... stay tuned for more stories (and pictures!) 

Thoughts from a Sunday Afternoon

Does smoking make you a worse Christian than the person that doesn't smoke? 

Sure it's scientifically proven to not be good for you. And as a Christian your bodies are "temples of the Holy Spirit. You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your bodies". (1 Corinthians 6v19-20)

Does smoking ruin your christian testimony? Make you a hypocrite? Like I said, sure it's bad... but is it any worse than judging the person that's smoking? Or gossiping? Or not paying your taxes? Or porn? Or.... the list is long. At least with smoking it's a visible sin. Does that not actually make it better? We all have "sins" that we will fight till the day we go to glory. But that's no reason not to be doing the work of the Lord. Sure, no one would be doing the Lord's work if we were waiting till we had our act together... but sure no one would be attracted to Christ if all the people that represented Him had their act together. Because really, who wants to be friends with a goody-two-shoes?! The beautiful thing about the Gospel is that not only calls us when we're dysfunctional, but He also uses us as we are, right where we are. 

Is there not a place to witness while having a smoke? I can't help but think that people that smoke actually have an advantage over people that don't. The conversations you can have with a total stranger, just because you needed a light. Or when you're at your work place. 

But again the question must be asked... does smoking mean you can't be a Christian? 

Yes, as a christian you should be growing in your faith. I should be able to see the fruit of you faith by how you're living your life. But we're all at different stages and only God knows our hearts ("For the Lord sees not as man sees: man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart" 1 Samuel 16v7). So if God is convicting you that you need to give up smoking, that is where you are on you Spiritual journey. But you can't judge your brother that isn't being convicted by God to quit. You don't know where God's got them, (maybe their mission field is the smoking room at work). You have to separate your relationship with God between your relationship with your fellow man. 

The same could be said for people that drink. Obviously, don't drink to get drunk, but if you can't drink socially, doesn't that make you a prig? (Likewise it should be noted that if drinking causes your brother to stumble, don't drink!)

Why is it so hard to believe that Jesus drank wine? Like the fermented stuff? (I checked, wine in ancient Rome was very alcoholic! It had to be fermented, because if it wasn't then it would just turn to vinegar.) "Do not get drunk on wine, which leads to debauchery." Ephesians 5v18 Ironic really, it made people uncomfortable that He ate and drank with sinners and tax collectors."The Son of Man came eating and drinking, and they say, 'Here is a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners.'" and it's still making us uncomfortable today. 

Isn't it true that God cares more for your heart than for acts? "For  it is by grace you been saved, through faith - and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God." Ephesians 2v8  

Personal story. I had to really wrestle with God about this when I was 18 and I learned that my brother not only smoked but had a serious drink problem. At 18, I was your stereotypical "good girl". I went to church, did all the "right things". How was it possible that my brother could do those things? Does God love him any less? No. In myself righteousness, how was I actually any better than my brother?  Sure anyone could see his "sin"... but did that not actually make my sin all the worse? As I posed being the perfect Christian good girl, I'd forfeited the first and greatest commandment, as well as the second, "Love the Lord you God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.... the second is like it: "Love your neighbor as yourself". Matthew 22v37-39

In conclusion to all this rambling, I really just want to encourage you that God can use you wherever you are in life. Don't limit God. Remember, it's His show. We just have to be willing to let Him use us, even when we think we're at our worst. Remember too, God doesn't "need" us, He wants us and He invites to be part of what He's doing. 

STRICTLY Put Your Best Foot Forward

When it comes to dancing, I've always said, "do not dip me, do not lift me and you'll never see me on stage dancing".

Well... that was until October when I saw my friend Rebecca doing a Strictly for a fundraiser..... I mean, it looked fun. The music. The  energy. But doing a dance on stage, in front of people? Yeah, not there yet. 

Strictly Come Dancing is the British form of Dancing with the Stars. Here in Ireland they do mini versions for fundraisers. So instead of getting paired with a professional dancer and it being a whole season of dancing, you're paired with a partner who's as clueless as you are to dancing and you're taught one dance. After 7 weeks of practicing and training you perform it on stage, then you are judged and voted for. (The votes are with money, all going to the charity that the fundraiser's for). 

In December Rebecca told me she was going to do another Strictly in February, did I want to do it with her? 

Well, duh! Of course I do! 

Reality though.... When was it in February? What was the time commitment to practicing? I have to raise money... how much?! How am I going to do that?? (Do I believe in the course enough to ask people to come along and support me?) 

After a month of hemming and hawing I finally decided I had nothing to loose by at least going once to a practice.

I missed the first week of training as I was flying back from Spain (the Camino). I went the following week not ready to commit to anything. But sure, what's the harm in trying it. 

There were about 30 people there to participate in the dance, with 2 instructors to teach and choreograph us, Ricki and Rachel. We went through steps to the group dance that would be done at the opening of the show, before we did our couple dances. Then they went through steps to all the dances we could be doing. Almost useless information for us as only one couple would be doing any one of those dances, but really it was so the instructors could better know which dances to give us and who to partner us with. 

Then they got us in semi circle and told us they were going to teach us some lifts. But they needed 2 volunteers. After an awkward second or 2 the guy next to me went into the middle and said he'd do it. As  firmly as I've always said "my feet stay on the ground", secretly I did want to learn how to do a lift. So looking around at the potential men... I decided my best option was the guy already in the middle. So I walked forward to the center saying I wanted to learn too. After we did it a couple of times, a couple more couples came up to try. Then Ricki and Rachel said they had another one for us to learn and needed 2 more volunteers. This time the guy next to me nudged me and was like, we got this! And indeed we did! 

Rachel and Ricki then took us back to our group dance, telling us that we were going to be doing some of those lifts in the dance. I was paired with my "lift buddy", Stephen. We were positioned front and center of the group. (Not only have I never done lifts, but never have I ever been in front and center of anything!) 

Let's just say, by the time I got home that night I was buzzing. 

The following week, I received a text announcing who my partner was and what dance I'd be doing for the couple dance. As there was a shortage of men, I'd thought I would be put in group dance with just women. So, when I got the text saying I was doing Bollywood with Lee, I was shocked! Ironically Lee was the one person I'd said, "anyone but him!" I'd never even heard of Bollywood, so after Youtube-ing it I learned that it's basically the Indian version of Latin dancing. Fantastic! With my track record of being able to Salsa, this was going to be a breeze... not. 

So naturally I called my mom, almost in tears. I'd been hoping for a more traditional dance... and why did I have to be partnered with that guy? (And why was I being so mean to the guy?) 

Basically, my mother told to suck it up. Do the dance. When else am I going to learn to Bollywood? 

So I did just that. 

6 weeks later we won 3rd place for our dance!! 

Standing on stage after they announced the winners, holding our prizes the couple that won 2nd place, Serena and Bradley (dancing the Tango), along with Lee and I, had a moment. The 4 of us had bonded quite a lot through the training and meeting up during the week to practice our routine. Bradley, 17, a sweet heart of a guy was bubbling when he told me he'd never before one a trophy. I was literally bouncing when I told him neither had I. (No, those "everyone's a winner" medals don't count!) 

Lee and I, in costume 

My friend Sara from the Y 

Friends from Grace, (Lt to Rt)
Renitha, Daniel, Rosalie and Drew

Dublin Area Rapid Transit

Since just before Christmas, I had the chance to live in Greystones, Co Wicklow. (45 minutes south of Dublin). My friend Rebecca invited me to join her family for Christmas. Then she told me she was going to be house sitting from the time we got back from the Camino till Valentines, and she invited me to come live with her. So basically, it was an invitation to live with Rebecca in a much coveted part of Ireland to live in, rent free. 

As soon as I made sure it was ok with the Y that I leave for 6 weeks and still have a room there, I said yes to Rebecca. (The Y was very accommodating!) 

The only down side to living in the wee seas side village of Greystones was that that's all I was doing there. All my ministries were still in the city. 

So I got to know the DART line real well! (The electric rail system, Dublin Area Rapid Transit, DART) Heading south, the DART line follows the coast line, so during daylight hours, it's a beautiful commute! It was also great for getting loads of reading done. I wouldn't say I'm a particularly fast reader, but I went through so many books during that month of commuting. (Which the nerd in me loved!) 

As ideal as the DART is for reading, it's also fantastic for sleeping. Just the gentle swaying, lolling sleep upon it's unsuspecting passengers. 

One of the hazards with sleeping on a train is the possibility of missing your stop. Thankfully Greystones was the last stop on the line, so if I was headed home and the eyes suddenly couldn't stay open on their own, it would be ok. 

One time this happened, I didn't think I was actually asleep. I thought I was just in the awkward eyes closed but not actually asleep stage. Ideal really, because I still knew where I was. What stops I was at, how many I still had to go. The voice announced over the air Shankill, then Bray... then 10 minutes more sleep and we'd be in Greystones. As the train came to a stop, I leaned my head back, confident that we were at Bray and I had 10 more minutes. Suddenly there's a hand on my knee and a lady's saying "love, this is the last stop. " I jump awake! Oops! 

Apparently I was not as awake as I thought I was. 

Another thing one experiences on the DART, especially the more one rides it are the beggars. Technically they shouldn't be on the trains. So I guess they've figured out a way around that and so they actually sell tissues on the trains. Walking up the car, putting a packet on the seat next to you, with a note saying that they're not beggars, they have children, etc, would you please help them by buying these tissues. They then come back down the aisle of the car collecting the tissues, or money. At the next stop they get out and go to the next car. 

I was so confused the first time I encountered this. I thought I was getting a free packet of tissues! (They did do that in Japan). Then I read the note, and watched how everyone else responded. Oh... you just ignore them, or say no thanks.... 

One time when I was on the DART, 2 men got on and sat next to me. One across from me, one next to me. The man across from me was trying to roll a cigaret, but was shaking so much that the tobacco was just going everywhere. (It's against the law to smoke on trains, so just him doing that, I thought was a bit bold). The man next to me was talking about how they just need 5 more Euro for a hostile that night. But it was so degrading asking people for money. So degrading. Did people think he enjoyed it? So degrading. No pride....

I of course was just reading my book during this whole intercourse. As I listened to this intercourse, part of my heart wanted to go out to the men. I had a fiver, if that meant they'd have a roof tonight. The other part of my heart felt the conversation sounded too staged. Not to discount how degrading it is. It is. I can't even imagine. But.... I don't know, was I just being too cynical?

This probably only lasted 2 minutes then the man next to me stood up saying he'd get the front of the car if the other guy got the back of the car. 

"They're not...!!!" I thought, not even pretending to read my book at this point, as I watched the men walk to the front of the car asking every person they passed if they could spare some change for a hostile. 

At the next stop they got off. 

Another time on the DART I felt the gentle rolling of the train to overpowering to read. I was headed into town, but had like 45 minutes, so plenty of time to get a wee nap. I plugged my phone in to charge in an outlet next to me and laid my head on my bag on the seat next to me, and attempted to sleep. I don't know if you've ever found this to be true, but sometimes when you actually give into the desire of the body, (like sleep) the brain doesn't oblige. 

As I at least pretended to sleep, I was aware of couple getting on the train. She had a very heavy, broad Irish accent. There's loads of different accents just among the Irish. But there's the broad accent (heard more among the blue collar/working class). As charming as the Irish accent can be, this accent just annoys me. But anyway. It was noon, but this lady had already been drinking or was on something. The car is empty except for the 2 of them and myself. Mind you, I'm pretending to be asleep, but I hear her go on about looking for an outlet to charge her phone. She just wants to charge her phone. As there's probably only 1 (maybe 2) outlets in a car, and I'm using one, I assume she's just jealous of me. I hear her walking around the car. Which is unnerving because normally you just sit. But I again assume she's looking for an outlet. Part of me is concerned that she's just off her rocker enough to take my phone or my bag. But I'm listening to music, and it's still coming through my ear buds, so she hasn't taken my phone. And my head is still on my bag, so that's still there. We're ok. Why am I getting paranoid? 

Some time later I become aware of more people on the train and a younger girl actually comes over to me and asks if I'm ok.... at this point I finally sit up.... Feeling a mix of "aw that was sweet that she was worried about me (I must look rough!) and why would she asks me that when I'm clearly sleeping...?" 

At this point I finally check my phone. My phone is still in my hand. The USB cable is still in my phone. But the USB cable is no longer in the plug. 

The feeling of violation and naivety wash over me as I discreetly put my USB cable away. Trying to decide if I go and ask the couple if I can have my plug back, or if I just let them have it. 

By this point in time, the train is actually quite full and I feel that my confronting the lady will just make a scene. So whether or not it was just the easy route out, I left the DART that day avoiding potential conflict but forever less naive in trusting people and their intentions. 

But that may not be such a bad thing.....  

Camino de Santiago

What do you say when your friend invites you 
to go on a pilgrimage with them? 
If you're Jes, you say "yes"! 

.....Then figure out the logistics. 

For New Years I got go on a pilgrimage to Santiago Spain, called the Camino. I went with my friend Rebecca. We started in Porto Portugal and walked roughly 155 miles ending after 10 days at the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela in Galicia in northwest Spain. The Camino, as known as the "way of James" is the name of he pilgrimage routes to the shrine of James the Apostle in Santiago, where tradition has it that the remains of the apostle are buried. 

If you ever get the change to o on a pilgrimage, do it! There[s just something about being brought even just sightly our of you comfort zone and brought to a place where you have to rely on God in a whole new way. I learned a whole new meaning of thankfulness. Just basic everyday things, like shelter at night. Or a bed. Radiators (nights were cold!). Hot showers. The sleeping bag my parents bought me 9 years ago when I went to Peru! And that of course leads me to be thankful for my parents... but that's a whole other topic! Thankful for a rain jacket that kept me dry on the rainy days (again, my parents!). The little cafe's along the way, and their hot chocolate (the Spanish know how to do hot chocolate!) Thankful for every time we got a stamp in our passports. (As part of the Camino, you have to have a special pilgrim passport that allows you to stay in the pilgrim hostels. In it you can collect stamps along the way from any hostile you stay at or cafe or shop you go to or simply pass along the way). My list of "thankful's" could go on, but I'm sure you get the point. 

We would average about 12 to 15 miles a day, spending each each night in a different hostel. Typically after cleaning up, we'd go in search of dinner. This started with checking out the kitchen in the hostel and seeing if there was any food that another pilgrim had previously left. Then we'd head out for the nearest shop. What became the normal dinner for us was noodles. Sometimes we'd have oil, other times there'd be seasonings, sometimes it would just be noodles, just depending on what was already in the hostel kitchen. 

One evening on our "cool down" walk to a shop we discovered that we could really go for some burgers. Surely the shop would have some mince and we'd be sorted, maybe even for lunch the next day too! As it turned out we found a 4-pack of ready made burgers. Then there was the dilemma that we had to have something to put on our burgers.... If we could find some chutney, we could use it later on toast. But chutney's a very British food, so we discovered tomato jam instead. We feasted like kings that night on our burgers with toast buns and tomato jam. 

At about 6 every evening the sun would set, and with it any warmth that might have been in a hostel. (They were brilliantly designed for the heat in summer, and they were equally effective in winter!) In response to that you could find Rebecca and I in our sleeping bags trying to stay warm. The natural progression of this was that we'd be asleep by 8 every night! 

This tradition started New Years Eve. 

It was our first day of walking. We'd done about 14 miles, barely getting out of Porto (the city we started in). We actually had no idea where we were. But we'd followed the arrows (literally there are yellow arrows that mark the way to Santiago!) and the signs to a hostel. Actually, in fairness, it was a monastery. Run by this cute, older couple, that couldn't speak a word of English. Thankfully there was no doubt we were pilgrims and charades for sleeping are universally understood. 

 Literally, yellow arrows marked the way.
(If only everything in life was that straight
forward.) 

Regardless of the fact that it was New Years Eve, Rebecca and I were in bed by 6. Having showered and eaten, the only thing left to do was sleep. If only because the warmest place in the monastery was our beds! At 6 o'clock we got a knock on our door. (Thankfully, we hadn't turned the light out yet!) The little old man that had gotten us settled into our room now entered with tray of freshly baked goodies, sent over by his wife. 

Either out of guilt that we really weren't ready to call it a night yet or because the couple had been so sweet to send food over, we hopped over in our sleeping bags to the baked goodies. 

This insured a quick sugar rush and the inspiration to have sleeping bag races down the hall. 

After this we remembered that we'd seen a bottle of red in the kitchen. As it was new years, we decided to partake in an early toast (it was probably only just 7 at this point!). As Rebecca was pouring the wine into little juice classes, I commented that it looked like communion wine, (it was a monastery after all). After one sip, my suspicions were confirmed. Definitely communion wine. No seconds for me! 

All in all we were in bed with the lights out by 8 that night. 

Before we ever left Ireland on this adventure we decided that we'd have a couple of solitary days. Day's where we'd start at a different time and walk separately. We did the first of these day number 5. Also known as "hill day". 

Honestly one of my favorite days. Just me and Jesus, on a hill. It was a warm, rainy day. The higher I went up the hill there was a mist that became thicker and thicker. Hindsight, we did the two things you're never supposed to do. 1) Hiking a mountain by yourself (buddy system). 2) hiking up into a mist. Thankfully, we both made it and decided that before we got to Santiago, we wanted to do another day like that. 

That second day came 2 days before we got to Santiago. By this point in the journey, I wasn't sleeping well at all (suffering from too much sleep?) and tended to be on the grumpy side of things... Rebecca however was thriving on 12 hours of sleep, and seemed to always be chipper in the morning. 

So what is this? Day 8? She asks if I'm ready to do another solitary day? As we only have to days left, it's either today or tomorrow. I want to do it today, because I want to experience Santiago with Rebecca. But doing a solitary day means me leaving before Rebecca (as I'm a faster walker than her). But I'm already feeling rushed. Again. Because again, Rebecca's gotten a good night sleep and I don't remember sleeping. Really it's an ideal day to do alone. Need some space! (Before someone dies!) So I agree to it and Rebecca agrees to wait to give me a head start. 

I leave at 8, in total darkness, in freezing temps. I don't know if you know this, but arrows are hard to see in total darkness. Somehow, I manage to find them and not get lost! As the sun rises, I realize I'm in a valley. My early morning grumpiness doesn't dissipate as I feel like I am literally freezing. Angry at the world, because of the valley which just teases me with the sun that I can see but can't feel. I'm done with walking. Why on earth did I ever agree to do this?! 

All I want is a coffee... and a toilet. But it's a Sunday and cafe's are closed. And there are so many bikers out, I can't even use a tree to pee, with fear that a biker will pass me before I'm done. 

Just then I come upon a literal oases in the desert. 

It's a building with vending machines of fizzy drinks, snacks and coffee, as well as toilets. Along with an area to sit and a place you can stamp your passport. 

Like magic, I feel like a new person after this oasis. I feel like I'm walking on air. Every mile marker I pass with the kilometer getting smaller I realize is one less that I have to walk the next day. I'd been saying it all week, but the more I walked today, the less I had to walk tomorrow. 

My only concern at this point was that I hadn't agreed with Rebecca on how far, or what village we were stopping in. So in my mind I was like, get to the 25K marker and wait for her there. As it turned out there were benches and sunshine at the 25K mark. And for the next hour and a half, I soaked up sun. 

That day we got to the 20K to Santiago mark before we found a hostile. 

The anticipation that night over our dinner of noodles was at an all time high. Tomorrow was the day! 

Tomorrow was probably the second to worse day of the whole experience. Almost from the beginning of the day, we could see the Cathedral. But the more we walked, the further away it seemed to be. The arrows, which had alway so faithfully pointed the way up to now, became fewer and fewer. 

Eventually, we found ourselves in front of the Cathedral. 

There were no arrows. There were no signs. 

I don't know what I'd hoped for, but the anticlimax that met us at the end was enough to make a girl cry!

We did it!
All 250+ Kilometers.

Would I do it again? ....Absolutely!