My sweet friend, Kristen... — Debbie Lamb Turner

Insights, Inspirations & Ramblings

To me, the Camino is a snapshot and metaphor for life. It has a beginning, an end, and a journey in between. The Camino journey provides opportunities to experience things with new eyes and it provides lessons to be applied to your life. I’m stunned by the unexpected ‘lessons’ that it gifts if you are open.

I didn’t expect to have the same experience this time in Spain as I did on my last two experiences. I was facilitating a group of ladies, moving their backpacks forward, and preparing their lodging for the night of their arrival. I was not walking daily like they were, so I didn’t expect to be affected in the same way. Boy, was I wrong. I had a lesson that shook me to my core.

On the last day walking day before our short adventure was finished, I arrived into Granon (one of my favorite places ever, by the way). I had hauled the backpacks up the uneven stone steps into the large room where we would all spend the night next to each other on mats on the floor. I had paid the donation for the room and dinner, and gotten a schedule of the events that the albergue offered. There was only one thing left to do – find a bank. Every so often I had to refill my Euros as most places only accepted cash, and today was that day.

I walked across the street from the albergue to a tiny café to ask for directions to the bank. The place was packed with a line of pilgrims extending clear out the door. As I entered, I saw one lone young woman handling things. She was taking orders and ringing up the sales, while another woman was in the room behind cooking and filling the food orders. What could have very easily been chaotic, was not. The young woman, who I later found out was named Irina, was smiling and completely relaxed. There was music playing that the pilgrims were either swaying back and forth to or singing along with. I had to laugh as I entered because the song “Hit the Road, Jack” was playing. How appropriate, I thought.

I inched my way up to the left side of the counter, where Irina would come to drop off the orders and call out, over the music, the person’s name. My plan was to catch her on her next trip over and quickly ask where the bank was. So, I waited.

As she came to drop off an order, she paused to pick up two dirty cups and saucers that were left there by pilgrims. I thought, ‘Now’s my chance’ and quickly blurted out one of the few phrases in Spanish I knew – “Perdon. Donde esta el banco?” (sorry, I don’t know how to put the tilde, the little accent marks over the Spanish words, but you get the gist of it.).

She turned back around, as she had already moved to walk away, sat the cups and saucers down, and purposefully took my left hand and cupped it both of hers. She completely disregarded the long line of hungry pilgrims waiting to be served, and instead paused to look intently into my eyes. Irina then softly said to me, “Buenos dias”. If I could have disappeared, melted into my shoes, whatever, I would have. I felt so embarrassed.

In her kind loving way, she taught me a monumental lesson, ‘Don’t walk in here rudely blurting out your question. It doesn’t matter that I’m busy or that you’re busy. Stop. Look me in the eyes. Greet me first. Then ask.’

Because I was too flustered to muster up any weak form of Spanish, in English I replied, ‘I am so sorry. Buenos dias’. She just smiled, gave my hand a squeeze and replied, ‘Buenos dias’ and proceeded to tell me how to find the bank.

I humbly walked out and headed to the bank hoping I wouldn’t have to see Irina again. I didn’t want her to think, ‘There comes that rude American woman’.

As fate would have it, I DID have to see her again, several times. This was a tiny village and the only place to get anything to eat, and by now I was hungry. So, I checked my pride and walked back in. Of course, she recognized me as I entered. She looked up from her register and gave me a big smile. Over the crowd and from the back of the café, I yelled out to her, ‘Buenos dias’. She greeted me back and we both laughed.

I’ve lovingly thought back several times since then about Irina and the precious lesson she taught me. I realized how many times I rush through life not really noticing the people I pass during my day. The opportunities I miss, and sometimes even avoid, to say hello or give a passing stranger a smile. What am I doing that’s so important? Where am I going that I don’t have five seconds to pause to acknowledge another human being?

I’ve returned home now and yesterday I was hiking our familiar Pinnacle Peak with my husband, Mike. He was ahead and I was going at my own pace as we always do. As I was coming back down, a young man approached me carrying his little boy (maybe a year old) on his backpack. Even though he was still a little way away, I could see this sweet little boy peeking around his daddy’s back waving like crazy at me. I smiled and waved back to him, and we high fived as we passed.

Again, I was reminded what it means to be seen by another person. To be acknowledged and smiled at. I hope I remember that lesson for the rest of my life.

The familiar phrase is, “The Camino provides”. And, yes, it does. But if we’re open, those lessons can also come at home or hiking a mountain by your house.

You’d think the better you know someone, the easier it would be to talk about them. But, that’s not necessarily true. Take Kristen for instance. There are so many aspects of who she is and who she has been in my life that it’s hard to narrow them down or put them in an order that flows or makes sense. I hope I do her justice.

One of the first things I noticed about Kristen when we met many years ago was her genuine care for young people. She was one of the leaders over high school age kids at her church. Not only did she lead, she took them places, listened to and consoled them, and was the one they knew they could call when they needed help. She really got involved in their lives and they knew she loved them.

But as I got to know her, I saw that Kristen’s care and concern didn’t stop with the high schoolers. She was that way with everyone. She’s always trying to help someone or act as a champion for a person who’s going through tough times or doesn’t have a voice. Little did she know that one day, she would be that for her own child.

Throughout Jayden’s health issues, Kristen remains vigilant. She doesn’t accept one doctor’s opinion but exhausts every option available whether it’s driving from Showlow, AZ to Tucson (many times) or down some dusty desolate road to reach a naturopath she was referred to. I know, we expect that of a mother. That’s what we do, right? Yes. But then she goes the extra mile, and does what I’m not sure many of us would do after being exhausted mentally and emotionally with a child that’s ill. She and her husband make the 4+ hour drive round trip every Saturday to take her other son, Zachary, to play hockey. She wants to be sure her oldest boy doesn’t feel slighted by all the attention required during the illness of his little brother, and for him to be certain he’s valued, loved and supported.

As part of Sisters on Purpose, a few years back we created ‘Kindness on Purpose Day’ and encouraged others to join in by doing unexpected acts of kindness for others. Kristen and her family got involved. She even shared it with in a radio interview she did in her town. This past year, as we fizzled a little ourselves in this effort, she remained strong. Remember, this was during a time that her own family was experiencing difficulties, but that didn’t hinder the efforts. Kristen and her son Zachary organized an event through his school where they collected stuffed animals. And not just a few. They got tons! These animals were donated to their local police department to use in crisis situations involving children. The officers carry them in their squad cars to give to kids for comfort in scary times.

Kristen has had her share of trials, losing her precious dad was probably the toughest she’s experienced in her life. That heartwound hasn’t healed for her, even after all these years, and probably never will. But I’m sure he’s looking down with pride at the amazing daughter she is.

In spite of the pain and hardships she’s gone through, she remains hopeful. Not only does she maintain hope in your own life, but she provides it for many others, as well. Her light of hope has brightly shone into my life, for which I’m deeply grateful.

I love you, my sweet friend.

Insights, Inspirations & Ramblings

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