Over the past dozen years,Karen and I have spent considerable time in France. When there, one of my favorite pastimes is cruising the C and D roads, the “country roads,” everywhere we go. They are ideal for bicycles, if you don’t mind being within inches of the cars,and pretty near perfect for little cars, although Hummers and other SUV’s, even large BMW’s, invite near-catastrophe. There are times when, if you see a large truck coming your way, you simply pull off as far as you can to the side – and stop! C and D roads are the antithesis of “autoroutes,” which are the interstate highways of France. These back roads are narrow, scenic, and packed with fun. They are infamous for their surprising “instant curves.”
I love the French country roads for the back and forth, the up and down, the way that your steering wheel is constantly on the move. You have to be super alert. There is absolutely no way you can be multi-tasking on these backcountry byways! It’s laser-beam focusing – or else! The ability to drive a French back road – and, I might note, maintain the pace that the other French drivers require – becomes a fabulously exciting, demanding, and challenging pastime for me. I lovebeing on the road!
But what I’ve enjoyed even more than the basic drive is finding what is just around the next curve – say, around the next bend on the D35. Pulling through a hairpin curve, and I might find myself exclaiming: “Will you look at that!” Or, “Wow, have you ever seen anything like this?” I just love anticipating what might next appear in our tiny car’s window. “Wow!”
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During a past trip to France, driving the C and D roads, we traced parts of the Compostela de Santiago, the 1500-mile pilgrimage route into Spain; some of its tracks start in France. And, of course, I drove very carefully when pilgrims were on the road. In fact, I slowed my driving pace, considerably. I was instantly attracted to the sight of these “journey folks” with their walking sticks and inviting smiles. Clearly (it seemed to me), they carried along with them some secret to happiness that I wanted to know more about. I moved into conversations with these some of those apparently joyousfolks.
Interestingly, they too were invigorated and energized by what might be seen next. One older gent told me: “The walk is as much about the surprising horizons as it is about some far-off goal.” A woman in her twenties revealed: “This is a pilgrimage of the heart for all of us; it’s truly – and simply – about the heart that’s coming home.” She went on to say: “Day in and day out, I feel that I’m on this little road that’s moving me closer and closer to my heart. Each new horizon, each new turn, takes me closer to what called me to walk this beautiful road.” I was mesmerized, listening to these journey tales.
The pilgrims shared something else about their journeys. They spoke of the gracious gift that made their journeys possible, do-able and achievable. Without this gracious gift, they would not be able to “walk their hearts back home” (words used by the same young woman). That gift, they revealed, is the “gift of hospitality, the gift of welcome.” A young boy, maybe eight or ten years old and traveling with his dad asked, “Have you seen the seashells in the windows along the road?” I nodded yes, and he continued: “The seashells tell us we can knock on the door for a great meal and to sleep. The seashells are our welcome signs.” The boy’s dad told me later: “Like my boy says, we rest our hearts where we find the shells. Hospitality over night makes new horizons possible in the morning. Seashells give us hope. Our journeys, surprises, and new horizons come because we’ve been welcomed, cared for and encouraged. It’s as though the seashell people, as we call them, truly believe in us.
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Karen and I have just arrived back in France. And, of course, I am looking forward to driving the backcountry roads once again. We took our little Citroen C3 out on a backcountry loop to Correns, Barjols, and Cotignac yesterday. The joys of checking out the surprises just beyond the bend in the road still hold the same great appeal for me. And yet, I must admit that the interactions I’ve had with the “journey folks” walking the Compostela may have brought about a modest wish in me. Yes, I’m looking forward to our time in the little car. And, I might just leave the car at home more often. The characteristic joyfulness of the pilgrims that I met made a distinct impression on me. I’m wondering: during this coming travel experience, how might I slow down somewhat, and be a bit more like those whose hearts are coming home?
I’m not ready to walk the Compostela de Santiago. However, I am prepared to slow my pace and be much more observant this time around. I just found myself a walking stick and might just journey out – and journey in. The pilgrims called the D road where we met: Le Chemin du Coeur (Little Road of the Heart). During this visit to France, I want to find that little road of my heart. I want to travel in ways that take me closer and closer to what’s home for me in my deepest heart. This is the precious gift that I most need in my life right now.
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When you are trying to listen to your heart, what path do you need to take?