“Love always leads you home!” I’ll never forget hearing those words and what they meant to me.

In July 2021, having walked the full Camino de Santiago in September and October the previous year, I decided I would return to Spain and walk part of the pilgrimage again. We were supposed to be in Canada at that time, but Canadian border restrictions hadn’t lifted, and with Nia’s blessing, I decided to once again stretch my legs in Spain. I remember saying to Nia prior to my departure, “I’m just going to walk until I stop having fun, then I’ll come home…”

I hadn’t accounted for how much hotter it would be in July, the heat being unbearable by eleven in the morning. I was having to get up at 5 am to avoid that midday heat. In my hurry to head to Spain I’d also made un unfortunate shoe choice. As a consequence, in the first two weeks I’d lost two toe nails. I recall waking up one morning and concluding, “I think I’m done,” but decided to wait until later in the morning to call Nia and run my decision by her. So I got up and began the day’s walk.

When I finally decided to call Nia, there was no cell phone signal, so I walked for another hour and finally chatted with her about 10:30 am. I described where I was at in my heart and she concurred with my decision to call it a day and head home. I remember saying to her that the return journey might take me two or three days–I was somewhere in the middle of the Spanish countryside and I would need to get to a major city with an airport, get a Covid test and, assuming the test came back negative, then book a flight home. I really had no idea where I was or where I needed to go.

As I walked on for another hour I arrived in a small village with a café. Through a translator I asked if there was a bus stop in the village and determined that there were two buses each day and that the next was in 45 minutes. Some hand singles sent me in the right direction, and having found the bus stop I sat on the ground, delivered my feet from my hiking shoes, and donned some flip-flops. In due course the bus arrived–only it was more akin to a small minibus, not quite what I had imagined. I didn’t even know where it was going but decided to board and see where it might carry me.

On-route, I determined that the end of the line was the city of Burgos. Despite being a city of some size, Burgos only has a military airport. As I explored Google Maps wondering where to go from there, Madrid seemed as close as anywhere else and it would logically be a place where Covid testing would be readily available. Literally as I was having that thought, the mini-bus pulled into Burgos central bus station and we drew up and parked next to a large bus destined for Madrid! With a little help, I secured a ticket and boarded the bus just as its engine sprang to life, the bus almost immediately pulling out of the bus station for Madrid.

Madrid was about 2+ hours away, so as I watched the Spanish countryside passing me by, I began to consider my next steps. I needed to Covid test. I called Nia to ask her to help and after a little research she called me back to say the Covid test centre at Madrid airport was fully booked for the next week! Fortunately she’d found another test centre a taxi ride away from the airport. They could do a one-hour test that evening at 6:30 pm but is was 200 euros–my flight to London might be cheaper than that! It seemed like I had no choice but to swallow the cost and Nia kindly booked me in. I then began to wonder where I should stay that night. It seemed logical to look for a place near the airport, and amazingly I found a 5-star hotel for just 30 Euros and booked.

When I’d boarded the bus to Madrid, I hadn’t had time to ask its final destination in the city. Instead I imagined it would take us to the city centre and that I could transfer there to an airport bus. As I was having this thought, we were approaching the outskirts of Madrid, and suddenly the bus pulled off the highway and headed east–you’ve guessed it, to the airport! Apparently, the bus goes to the airport first before heading into the city centre. Talk about a guided tour!

A short time later, I gathered up my belongings and descended the steps from the bus at Madrid Airport. There were four people standing on the forecourt in front of me. I inquired as to whether anyone spoke English and on receiving an affirmative nod from one, asked, “Do you know where I can get a hotel shuttle?” His response was to point to a spot on the curb about 3 metres to my right and say, “Wait just there!” Seriously? But he was right! I literally descended from the Madrid bus on the spot where I would catch the free shuttle to my hotel. 15 minutes later, I was in the hotel foyer checking in. My journey had been seamless, almost impossibly smooth.

Since it was only mid-afternoon when I got to my room, I decided to see if I could reschedule my Covid test for an earlier slot. This would allow me to start looking at flights for the next day. When I called, it became apparent that Nia had booked a 24-hour test not a 1-hour test, but no problem, I rebooked and could go straight away. My taxi driver was friendly and super helpful. He agreed to drop me off and then wait for me around the corner.

Then came the painful experience of handing over 200 euros for my 1-hour Covid PCR test. As the attendant was taking my payment she inquired as to my destination. When I responded, “London”, she stopped in her tracks and said, “You only need a Lateral Flow test then, it’s 45 Euros and you get the result in 15 minutes!” 10 minutes later I was exiting the test centre, my original payment refunded, and back in my taxi. Before I even arrived at the hotel, an email dropped into my inbox to inform me that my test had come back negative. I was all set to fly.

It was too late to secure a flight for that day, and besides I wanted to indulge in my 5-star experience! Flights were still sparce back then, but I found one for 6:30 am the next morning with Iberian, flying straight into Heathrow. Following a short but beautiful night’s sleep, when I boarded that next morning, I was on a brand-new plane and there were about 10 passengers on the whole flight. I had a whole section of the airplane and a flight attendant all to myself! More 5-star treatment!

Around 9:00 am, I emerged from Heathrow Arrivals into the embrace of my beloved wife, and not 30 minutes later I was walking through the front door of our home in Walton-on-Thames. As I stepped across the threshold it occurred to me; it was literally just 24 hours ago that I called Nia from the middle of nowhere in the Spanish countryside and now I am home! I’d told her the return journey might take me two or three days. I’d visualised myself having to find a major city with an airport, needing to find a Covid test centre and, assuming any test came back negative, finally booking a flight home. 24 hours? Impossible!!

At the instant that that thought crossed my mind I heard Father say, “Of course Richard… Love always leads you home!” He continued, “This is what the future looks like Richard–I want to lead you forward one step at a time, moment by moment, your hand in mine…”

That was two years ago. Now, having let go of our rental flat in Penang at the beginning of this month, we can see part of the fulfilment of that word. Father’s leading Nia and I to embrace the nomadic. Finding our home in Him, having no permanent physical home for this season, roaming the nations as he leads us forward one step at a time. Home is truly where the heart is, and our hearts are nestled securely within his heart. One step at a time, our hands in his, he leads us forward into the unfolding adventure…

(Nia and I are very much looking forward to leading a Camino de Santiago group on pilgrimage in April & May 2024)