hmm...let me think about that for a minute

When I worked at Sisters of the Road, people would often ask me what I found most challenging about being there. I always thought that was an interesting question, it came up way more than someone asking me about what I loved about the place.
I get that same question about the walk. "What's the hardest part about being on the Walk?"

I suppose I could come up with all sorts of stuff - you know, things like...well, having to wake up at 4am and taking my tent down in the cold, dark morning isn't always joyful. Mmmmm, sometimes not showering for a few days is a little uncomfortable..but oddly, you get used to it.

It's mostly in the morning that it's tough - having to wake up around 100 people, going into the bathroom to find 7 women jammed around a little mirror or the sole sink can be eye-rollingly difficult.

But, this is really all small stuff. And we are really very well taken care of. Plenty of good food. Good, safe places to camp. Lots and lots of very lovely people to talk with. And the ones that aren't so lovely are pretty easy to avoid (and, practice patience and compassion when you do come across them).

And even when the mornings are tough...or the evenings are crappy, there is the walking. On walking days we are on the road for several hours at a time, and you can usually meditate all that mind turmoil straightaway.

So...we take the good with the bad. I try to remember the grace of things. I'm so lucky to have such good friends here to remind me of that...and that's its own blessing.

This walk, this work..is a gift..especially when its hard. Even at its hardest, I have a better life than most people in this world can ever hope to have...we see it all the time right here along the road. Our job is to witness that. And when we come through these places and are greeted so warmly by people that have so little..it's hard to express the encouragement that brings me of the goodness of folks.

Yesterday we were listening to some local people, and an elderly woman got up, and in her language told us of the struggle of living on the reservation, and how little power she had. She told us that the home of her family, going back several generations, was being considered for casino property - and it brought tears to her eyes to think that she would lose the sacred land of her family....again (remembering the Long Walk of the Navajos). But she told us, that just our being there gave her hope. That perhaps her concerns would be heard - that maybe someone would listen to her...that someone was listening to her - and it filled her heart with love for us.

How can I complain about lack of a shower when I hear stories like these?

I can't.