Blessings large and small

As I walk Camino I had plans for asking the big questions; you know, life, death, God, sex, love, the future.  I have this whole daily liturgy set up with scripture readings, prayers, and silent meditation.  The purpose is to facilitate 'hearing' an answer; to make myself be still.
So far something very unplanned for and different has happened.  On day one, we did our full time of devotion, prayer, and walking in silence.  On day 2 the rain and wind were so hard and the walking so difficult, I read the prayers sent with me from home, recited Shema, sang the Doxology with Peter, and kept moving.  Today (day 3) was so hard (slippery ankle biting rocks, mud--deep, deep mud, grueling climbs, and more grueling descents) that the time of silence was mainly a time of huffing and puffing.  So this 'listening' thing hasn't worked out in quite the way I expected.
Yet something else is afoot.  The scenery has made me shout with joy and delight.  Even in the horrible rain and wind of the first two days there was wonder around every bend.  Today in the bright sun I could barely keep a smile off my face.  Moreover, the people of the Camino are simply marvelous.  First, there are those I will never know.  They have painted 'flechetta', yellow arrows, kilometer after kilometer, on city sidewalks, lampposts, boulders in the woods, trees, guard rails-everywhere a pilgrim needs them--blessings to me, all out of love for Camino.  Yesterday, at the top of a particularly long and steep hill, we came upon a sign "For pereginos", a chair, two bottles of water, and a bottle of orange juice-- a blessing to me, all out of love for the Camino.  Later, deep in the woods, some one had piped a spring, so the water flowed like a fountain for ease of filling our bottles.
Then there are the other pilgrims.  Tonight, we ate the local version of the Pilgrims Special ( a bowl of lentils with chirizo and grilled fish) with 5 people from France who happen to be on the same cycle of walking city to city as we are.  A couple of them speak a bit of English, we speak no French, but 'it is not good for the man to be alone', so they provided the blessing of good fellowship over shared wine and bread: a blessing rendered for love of the Camino.  When I complained of my sleeping bag falling off of my pack some where in the storm of day two, an Irish cyclist riding Camino to honor his wife who died of cancer, to raise funds for research, and to ask "what's next?" Without thought offered me his bag liner because "that's what you do on Camino."  Simple gifts, carefree generosity--blessings large and small.  Maybe I'm here not so much to 'hear' as to see.  Buen Camino.

Among the pictures here, Dorothy N., Laurel W., Shirley E., Melissa F., Doug T., and Mike of Akron-- our hearts mingle as these joys and dreads rise to God.  Amen.