It was a year ago when I completed my journey on the Portuguese Coastal Path of the Camino. In reliving those fourteen days, I’ve looked back at my pictures, journal entries, and printed pages of maps and directions. Throughout my travel in Portugal and Spain, like on other trips, I was fascinated by doors and gates. For me, they symbolize the opportunity to step forward, to enter an adventure that could be an actual physical journey or a new phase of life. Lots of doors opened and closed to lead to my pilgrimage on the Camino last August.

Doors can also represent being constrained, choosing to stay inside the security of what is known, versus the uneasy feeling of stepping into the unknown. Before I left for the Camino, I saw a movie and a turquoise door was prominent — I can’t remember why 😦 But that image stayed in my head and when I saw this door, it appealed to me (not to mention the beautiful tiled wall). The warm beauty of this shade of blue, the arched window above, the lines of the door altogether are artistic and welcoming. I can imagine if I came in and out of that dwelling every day, I may not want to leave.

Besides our personal doors, we’ve all experienced doors we weren’t allowed to pass through — whether it was the hallowed doors of our first-choice college or an exclusive social club. We were left out, not welcomed in as one who belonged.

Sometimes there’s been the threat of danger if we pushed through those doors, like the red alarm warning that gets your attention on this beautiful gate. The elegant arched stone and grillwork, the weathered blue paneled door, flanked by hues of green in the shrubs and trees, is damaged by the alarm sign. While admiring the historic beauty of the gate, we’re reminded of the present reality of crime, of unwanted intruders who threaten those inside.

Along the Camino, the emblem of the scallop shell is pervasive. Pilgrims from medieval times found the coastline of northwestern Spain to be plentiful with those shells. Above this brown gate, the scallop shell image appears to be carved into the detail of the center stone. This gate calls me forward, wanting to see where those stairs in the background would take me. What would it be like to live in that place?

When I left for Portugal on August 5th, my patio garden was in poor shape due to the harsh heat. I’d yet to have a Heavenly Blue morning glory bloom on the vines over my white fence. How delighted I was to find this gate with morning glories in bloom. Throughout Portugal and Spain, I saw lots of wild purple ones that had taken over empty lots and fallow fields.

I’m grateful that when it was time to cross the threshold of safety of my own house, to enter the unknown of the Camino, God provided all that I needed. I knew that the timing was right, the kairos time I referred to in the post Camino Journey: Kairos Time. If I’d waited until this year, I may have had trouble with the smoke from the wildfires in both countries. The desire to walk the Camino had been in my heart for 12 years. I recently saw this saying and felt it was true of how the Camino unfolded for me:

“Carefully observe the way your heart draws you and then choose that way with all your strength” a Jewish Hasidic saying (per AI ref. attributed to Archdiocese of Wellington)

Now, I’m wondering, how is your heart drawing you? Is there a door you need to pass through, a garden gate you need to open? Your life is worth careful observation to find the way that is right for you, for what you’re longing for at this time.

I wish you the best in this personal exploration that will lead to growth.

Connie