Saturday night

The only time I get to write is at the end of the day. One day is just like the next yet every single day is different as different pilgrims come and go. They arrive as strangers but by the time they have chopped onions together, worked as a team helping us prepare the meal and then wash dishes together, they assume a group identity. Sometimes we have more Spanish pilgrims and other times more American and Canadian. Tonight we had quite few Italian and Danish pilgrims (they are always so helpful and courteous) and an interesting relationship - aunt and nephew traveling together. Sometimes we have singers or musicians and other times we have those who join in our tiny kitchen to help cook. A fairly grumpy group of Canadians arrived and reluctantly signed in. They didn't want a communal meal and thought they would go to the bar instead. By the end of the meal they all voluntarily helped us and had an experience they had not expected. I continually wonder with an enormous sense of awe at the role we play in all their lives and the difference we seem to make to them. The pilgrims arrive hobbling, tired, aching, in pain with blisters, tendinitis, hip and knee problems etc but also with emotional issues they battle to resolve. We just give them unconditional love and good food so that their bodies and their souls can find rest, peace and healing. Many find our candle-lit reflection service very emotional. I know that cooking for large crowds is daunting (only 29 tonight)but I am so glad that I am here where a meal is provided. Eating together is the essence of fellowship and the more we give the more we get back and I would not have missed this for the world although I don't know what I will cook tomorrow night The comments they leave in our book makes us realise how much they appreciate and value what we do for them.
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