It was the birth of courage. It was the beginning of acceptance. It was stepping through a gateway onto a path of seeing beyond viels . Compassion was challenged and rose to the surface like winds parting clouds, allowing beams of sunshine to stream through.

Tending to the needs of my , suddenly, frail mother as she lay in the last bed she would ever use  woke up my soul. It reawakened my heart and brought back to life the preciousness of each moment in my sight. What would happen in an hour or tomorrow was anybody’s guess.

I give to her my thanks every evening before closing my eyes and drifting off into sleep. She gave me the opportunity to discover that courage can be quiet and gentle. It isn’t always bold and boisterous. Sitting at her bedside in the middle of the night , struggling to feel patience on top of exhaustion, I listened to her fears, her recitations of visions or dreams she had had. She was giving me a most precious gift. All that was required of me was to recieve it.

I give her my thanks for the Pilgrimage in Spain that I experienced with ‘ On foot in Spain ‘. Walking through one gateway leads to another and another and  onward we go.  A few days before  heading to Spain I began contemplating what my reasons  for doing the pilgrimage might be. I realized that I had no grand design in mind. To simply be in each step and to allow each moment to unfold in it’s own way , releasing it’s gifts. That was my goal. Once again all that was required of me was to receive . To listen and allow myself the joy of being present in each step was another precious gift.

The pilgrimage was as freeing as it was when I held my mother’s hand . In childhood it comforted her to hold my hand. keeping me safe , showing her love. As she went through the process of letting go of her life here on earth, I hoped that I could give her comfort by holding her hand and letting her feel my love in the warmth of our palms touching.