I'll Push You

by Patrick Gray

  I guess the impossible really is possible.

  Because of Justin’s audacious goal of traveling five hundred miles through Spain in a wheelchair and his willingness to be completely vulnerable throughout the entire process, I and many others have discovered things we didn’t think were possible—feats of strength, feats of mental fortitude, and feats of emotional and spiritual breakthrough.

  Without Justin’s vision, his willingness to pursue that vision, and his recognition that the only way his dream could be realized was through the power, strength, and will of others—the provision of others—we never would have known what we were capable of.

  God has given both of us so much throughout our lives, but the Camino has served as a tangible reminder of this provision. Maybe the provision Justin has received is more noticeable than it is for many on the trail—he needs someone to get him out of bed, dress him, put on his shoes, feed him, shower him, brush his teeth, comb his hair, and help him use the restroom. God has given me provision through a friend who trusts me enough to let me do all those things for him; by teaching me that I can’t do everything on my own, that I must surrender myself to the strength others have to offer. I must place my faith in the many people who have pushed and pulled when I could not, who continue to push and pull when I cannot.

  This journey has done many things for me, but perhaps the most important is the lesson God has taught me about his provision. This provision can take the form of trust, vulnerability, accountability, intimacy, pursuing one another, and moments of Sabbath. It means trusting others enough to let them do things for me; being vulnerable to the point of letting them carry a load I’m too weak to bear; allowing someone to hold me to a higher standard; being intimate to the point of allowing others to know all of me and realizing they still love me; letting others pursue time with me, rest in my presence, and keep me close.

  Provision can be so many things—even an ancient trail through northern Spain.

  There is an excitement growing inside me as I think about how to apply the lessons I’ve learned in this next chapter of life. But as excited as I am about what comes next, it pales in comparison to the anticipation of reaching our final destination. In just two days, our wives will be waiting for us at the base of the cathedral in Santiago.

  24A BEAUTIFUL WAY TO START

  — PATRICK —

  YESTERDAY ENDED with a hill into Arzúa. Matthew had pulled much of the day while Michael and I took turns behind Justin’s chair, but as rain began to fall and we added wet to tired, hungry, and sore, another new pilgrim came along and asked if he could push.

  Tema, our new friend, strapped in behind Justin and powered the wheelchair up the hill to where we would spend the night. After seeing us to the door of our albergue, Tema continued on to meet up with some fellow pilgrims, but not before he asked if he could join us tomorrow.

  “Of course!” Justin said as Tema walked away.

  After enjoying a quiet dinner with Michael and Matthew, we abused yet another office chair at the albergue so Justin could take a shower.

  Today, Tema is with us again, and because of his assistance, coupled with the many days of helping hands from others, my legs feel almost normal. In addition to Tema, we have Michael, Matthew, Claudia, and the film crew (now minus Jasper) accompanying us. Our destination is a small hamlet called Brea, where we have an invitation to stay at a pension (guesthouse). A gentleman named Colin reached out to us on Facebook, offering to arrange a place for us to stay on our final night before reaching Santiago. We plan to spend the evening resting so we can get to the cathedral tomorrow with the sun still at our backs.

  For the past thirty-three days and almost five hundred miles, we have been blessed by so many like Tema. The sense of community and connection with each person we have met, and the love we have received from those who have come from our hometown to help, have made for an experience so rich that we are reluctant to see it come to an end. But we are eager to see our wives. It has been more than a month since I last held Donna’s hand, kissed her lips, or felt the warmth of her embrace.

  Bittersweet is the only way I can describe the thoughts and feelings coursing through our hearts and souls as our Camino draws to a close. When I glance over at Tema, who is now pushing Justin, I see the two of them are deep in conversation.

  | | |

  — JUSTIN —

  Tema is a thirty-eight-year-old police officer from Madrid. As we talk, I discover that he and I share the same birthday—July 12, 1975. We have a natural connection, and while he pushes, he tells me about the grief he is experiencing from a failed relationship. Much of his reason for being on the Camino is an attempt to make sense of his life, like so many others we have met.

  When we stop to rest, Tema’s smile is bright and there is joy in his eyes. He tells me how the pain in his life is always easier to deal with when he helps others, when he invests in the lives of others. It is not a selfish act, but I understand that Tema isn’t pushing only for Patrick or me; he’s also pushing for himself. He has embraced the fundamental truth that we are meant to live life together and carry one another’s burdens. By pushing me, even if only for a little while, Tema is allowing Patrick and me to help shoulder his burden and ease his pain.

  When we arrive at a small side street leading from the Camino trail to our destination for the day, it’s still early, and Tema decides to continue on to Santiago. He gives me an intense hug. “I want to give you something for what you have given me,” he says with tears in his eyes. As he lays a small watercolor painting in my lap, he grips my shoulders and says, “Thank you!”

  I look down at his depiction of rolling hills through Basque country and am reminded of how far we’ve come.

  “Thank you, Tema!” I say as he turns and waves good-bye. Though our time together has been brief, I feel humbled and grateful to have met him and to have shared conversations of life, love, and faith.

  Patrick pushes me up the short road to Pension The Way, a spacious white stucco house with a red tile roof set amid an expansive lawn enclosed by a low stone wall and hedges. We are now fifteen miles from our final destination. Only one more night before we’re reunited with our wives.

  Colin welcomes us in and introduces us to the owners, Tony and Roger, two Englishmen who open their beautiful home from the beginning of May to the end of October each year for pilgrims seeking rest before the final trek into Santiago. They show us around the house and help each member of our group find a room to store their packs and rest their feet.

  Patrick and I are given the largest room downstairs. After shedding our backpacks, we head into the backyard of this private estate to spend some time with our gracious hosts. The yard is large and open, with trees and flower beds bordering the lawn. The back of the house faces south, so almost the entire yard is bathed in light, but a small covered porch offers protection from the intense rays. After nearly four hours with the early July sun beating down on my shoulders, I’m ready for some shade.

  Directly off the covered patio, on the south side of the home, a long table is set with plates and silverware, ready for the dinner we will share in a few hours. As Patrick and I chat with Roger and Colin, we feel at home. Amid plenty of laughter, we trade stories about the Camino—and even find time for a nap in the shade.

  The traditional English dinner is reminiscent of the many communal meals we have shared along the way. Roasted chicken, homemade bread, fresh salad, and pumpkin soup are a welcome change from weeks of bocadillos and Spanish tortillas. Pilgrims from the US, England, France, South America, and Ireland sit around the table. We share food, wine, and community. I am ready to see my wife, but I’m not ready to leave these people, to leave this way of living.

  | | |

  As our final day of walking dawns bright and clear, we have fifteen miles to go before we reach the square outside the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela, fifteen miles until we see our wives for the first time in forty days. Before we left Idaho, we had arra
nged for them to meet us in Santiago. They will be in the square when we arrive. The pull to continue the Camino experience is strong, but the desire to see the women who have loved us and supported us throughout this crazy endeavor is far more powerful.

  For the first twelve miles, Patrick pushes me, with Michael, Matthew, and Claudia at our sides. Jess, Christie, John, Lynda, Richard, and Joe have all gone ahead to complete their Caminos.

  Three miles from our destination, we arrive at the monument of Monte do Gozo, where two towering statues of pilgrims face west, pointing the way to Santiago. From here we get our first glimpse of the three spires atop the magnificent cathedral in town. Three more miles and we will have completed the five-hundred-mile journey so many people told us was impossible. Three more miles and we will say good-bye to this pilgrimage. Three more miles and we will be in the arms of our wives.

  As we continue to work our way toward the center of the city, Michael, Matthew, and Claudia go on ahead. Soon Patrick and I are alone on this last stretch. Each street we cross brings us one step closer, but the city is busy with foot traffic. Navigating around the many pedestrians, we can now see the cathedral ahead of us and to our left. Directly in front of us, a number of pilgrims take the steps leading to the square at the cathedral’s base.

  These steps force us to change direction, and we take an alternate road leading down to Praza do Obradoiro, the large square outside the Cathedral of Santiago de Compostela. The street ends as it opens up to the plaza, and as we draw near the square, we see hundreds of pilgrims and tourists sitting or reclining along the perimeter, while others have gathered along the smooth stones that make a path to the center of the square.

  Not knowing what to expect, we enter the plaza and are greeted by an eruption of applause. Chills go down my spine, and adrenaline flows in my veins.

  We made it. We actually made it.

  Joe, Richard, Christie, and Tiffanie are here, and as we work our way further into the square, we see more faces we recognize. Amid so many friends, many unfamiliar faces are also smiling at us, and everyone is clapping their hands. Bodies continue to part as we get nearer to the middle of the square, and all we can think is, Where are our wives?

  Finally, we see them, standing at the center of the plaza. I can feel emotion welling in my chest as tears fill my eyes. I don’t know what heaven will be like, but I am guessing today is a glimpse of what we will experience. There are so many familiar faces of pilgrims who have gone before, staring back at us, celebrating our arrival. So many hands and hearts that have helped us along the way. I am thankful for every person in this square, known or unknown to me.

  Patrick’s pace quickens as he sees Donna and Kirstin. They begin to run toward us, their eyes filled with light. When Kirstin reaches me, she bends down and wraps her arms around my shoulders. Tears of joy flow from both of us. For so long, I have missed her smile, her voice, her laughter, and her touch.

  “You made it!” she says into my ear. “I have missed you so much.”

  “Me too. I love you!”

  “I love you.”

  When Kirstin finally lets go, she turns to Patrick and gives him an embrace filled with heartfelt gratitude. Donna wraps her arms around me with tears in her eyes.

  “I told you I would keep him safe,” I say with a smile.

  “I knew you would.”

  | | |

  — PATRICK —

  So many faces, new and old, surround us as we hold our wives for the first time in more than a month. When I finally let Donna go, she looks at me and places her hands on the sides of my face. The corners of her eyes curl up as she smiles.

  “Oh how I’ve missed you,” she says.

  “I love you so much!” I whisper because my voice is weak with emotion. But once isn’t enough. “I love you so much!”

  I turn to welcome the arms of Kirstin. “It’s so good to see you,” I tell her.

  We both have tears in our eyes as she smiles and says, “Thank you!”

  Those two words are so full of gratitude and love; nothing else needs to be said.

  After exchanging more hugs with friends and strangers alike, we introduce Donna and Kirstin to our fellow pilgrims. For the next few minutes, Joe, Richard, Tiffanie, Jess, Claudia, Christie, Julie, Jane, and many others exchange embraces with our wives. Finally, we’re ready to head to our hotel rooms for much-needed showers and time to rest in fresh, clean beds.

  Later in the afternoon, the four of us set out to explore the city with Michael and Matthew. As we wander the streets around the cathedral, we see so many familiar faces, and we begin to make plans for one more communal meal with our new friends before we all go our separate ways.

  At dinner, we take over the patio area of a small restaurant near our hotel. Terry, Mike, and Robin join us, and we all laugh and tell stories about our Camino. Claudia and Jess are soon engrossed in conversation with our wives, while Christie and Tiffanie smile as they soak in the sense of community that surrounds us all. Michael and Matthew get to know some of these people a little better as we eat, and Joe and Richard make sure everyone’s glasses are full of wine. There are so many faces, and yet they are just a handful of all who have made this journey possible—a journey on which I have pushed my best friend five hundred miles across Spain and he has pushed me into a new way of life.

  An odd mixture of joy and grief fills my chest as Michael stands and gives a toast to our journey and to the friends surrounding us. A toast to friends new and old, a toast to community, a toast to love as God intended it.

  | | |

  This morning, we collected our compostelas from the Pilgrim’s Office, proof of our five hundred-mile journey. Several of the passport officials had trouble believing we had come all this way in a wheelchair.

  Now, sitting in the cathedral as the mass draws to a close, Justin, Kirstin, Donna, and I are captivated by the Botafumeiro, a massive brass censer suspended by a rope-and-pulley system from the ceiling high above. When a team of monks pulls on the rope, the censer swings high above our heads, like a pendulum, as fragrant smoke fills the air in the cathedral. Watching it swing back and forth draws me deep into thought. It is almost hypnotizing, like watching the flames of a campfire lick the night air. This is a time of reflection, a time of gratitude. This mass, this final amen, brings a sense of closure to our Camino while filling me with anticipation for what comes next.

  It is the end of one journey and the beginning of another.

  What a beautiful way to start.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  WE WOULD LIKE TO EXPRESS our gratitude to so many people who have seen us through the writing of this book and who have made this journey possible.

  To the Turners, Hamptons, Greens, Bryants, Martins, and Kluksdals: You are our church. Thank you for sharing every Monday night on the patio with us. Long live MNOP!

  Thank you to Chris Karcher and Terry Parish from emota, Inc. for cataloging the journey, making our film possible, and for having faith in us since day one.

  Thank you to Mike McLeod, Jasper Newton, and Robin Romera for your incredible work ethic and amazing eyes. You captured truly beautiful moments on camera.

  Theresa McLeod, you are the most amazing mother/sister/friend.

  Scott Hancock, thank you for being such a champion for love and light.

  Angela Scheff and Chris Ferebee, you have been unbelievable in this process. Thank you for giving us a chance and for being the best literary agents anyone could hope for.

  Seth Haines, we are forever in your debt. Your editorial skills have made this book so much more than we could have hoped for.

  Sarah Atkinson and the entire Tyndale Momentum team, thank you for your faith in us and in our story. You have been incredible partners. Thank you for bringing this book to life.

  Catherine Oliva, thank you for all the work on the speaking front. Your work has made so much of this possible. Thank you for being an incredible speaking agent and friend.

  To the countless f
riends who have walked by our side on this crazy journey, we love you. Thank you, Ted and Amee Hardy, and Michael and Matthew Turner, for your help on the trail. Thank you, Julie Turner and Amee Hardy, for letting your husbands accompany our shenanigans.

  To all who have helped support the film and our endeavors, you are too many to name here, but you are loved and appreciated.

  Our incredible fellow pilgrims: Joe, Richard, Christie, Claudia, John, Bernie, Lynda, Jess, Tiffanie, Ray, Julie, Jane, Tema, and so many others—there is no way we could have made it without you. Thank you for loving us!

  — FROM PATRICK —

  Where to begin? I am indebted to so many amazing individuals who have influenced who I am—and will continue to.

  Ed Castledine, thank you for pushing me out of my comfort zone and being an incredible mentor.

  Howard King, thank you for your endless wisdom and patience with me. You have influenced many of my decisions with your perspective on life.

  To my parents, Jerry and Karyn Gray, thank you for raising me, thank you for being my mom and dad, and thank you for your love, support, and prayer. I appreciate all the guidance over the years.

  Jeff Gray and Susan Pennington, your words of encouragement have meant more than you know. Kilian Gray, I will never forget the day you brought me a manila envelope full of your savings to help us on our journey. Thank you for such incredible generosity.

  Jennifer and Dean Coon, you both believed in this journey from the start. I am grateful for your love and support. James, thank you for the joy and energy you bring to our family.

  Michael Gray, thank you for the countless hours on the phone. Your friendship means more than I could ever put into words. Kathleen Gray, thank you for sharing him with me. Lila and Sophie, you are both wonderful in so many ways.