Carried

Day 8: August 29th,

Comillas to Serdio, 15.6 miles.

(The original plan was to make it to Columbres 17.7 miles, but it didn't work out that way.)

But Jesus looked at them and said to them, "With men this is impossible, but with God all things are possible." — Matthew 19:26

Prior to going to sleep last night, I set my alarm for 6:30 a.m., thirty minutes earlier than usual because I knew it would take me a little bit longer than normal to get to the bathroom due to my aching feet. I felt that would give me plenty of time before all the other pilgrims started to stir. My internal alarm went off and woke me up just prior to my set alarm so I turned it off. Even though I was going to walk slower today, I was still so excited to get started, and my feet felt better than the night before. So I immediately stood up to go to the bathroom and - oh my heavens! My life flashed before my eyes. I suddenly felt like I had stepped on sharp knives that shot the most intense pain up both of my legs, to the point that I collapsed right back into my bed. I screamed in silence. My eyes widened like I had seen a ghost. I gasped and I went into unexpected and sudden shock. My Lord, my God, help me! What is happening? I was no longer standing up, as I was in incredible pain. Oh my dear God, oh my God please, please help me. I could not believe what was happening. This isn't real, this just can't be. Lord, please. These few seconds of intolerable pain felt like an eternity. I was still. I dared not move. It was dark and quiet and all the other pilgrims were still sound asleep. As my feet were bulging and pulsating, I began to cry in silence. I conjured up all the power I had in me, using every ounce of energy I could muster not to scream out loud as I lay there in astonishing agony. The tears began to flow, and then I realized I was not crying because I was in this incredible unforgiving pain but because I suddenly realized I could not walk. I couldn't even stand up, much less walk. Oh my heavens, my dearest Lord Jesus Christ, please help me. I knew I could rely on my brain to help me handle and crush the pain, but the thought of not being able to walk was shattering my heart. I was emotionally breaking down in silence. The mental pain of knowing I could not walk was ten times more intense than this horrifying physical pain I was suddenly enduring. I don’t understand. Why is this happening? Lord, I need you. My dear Savior, please come help me. All of this had to remain in darkened silence. I dared not wake these people. This just can’t be happening. The tears were flowing uncontrollably. I can’t handle this. I simply can’t wrap my head around this. Why, of Lord? What on earth have I done? Oh please, dear Lord, please forgive me. All I want to do is walk. Jesus, where are you? I need you. I just want to walk. The tears slowed down to a gentle stream as I lay there wondering what on earth I was to do. All I could do at that moment was pray. So I prayed, and I prayed, and I prayed. Shortly thereafter, I heard someone’s alarm clock go off. I started hearing movement in the dorm and knew I had to deal with this situation. A phone light flickered across the room. Like mice, they began to stir. The tears continued to slow down but still found their way to my pillow. I needed to get a hold of myself. The pain was still there but had settled down to a brutal pounding, enough that I could manage to sit up on the side of the bed. The bilateral pulsations would not cease, but my courage would not wallow as I began mounting the pain like a horse. I would ride on my courage to help me stand. And I did. I stood. For a moment, I just stood. I can and I will stand. Lord, please take my hand.