Choosing a Rock

I ask myself this every time I come back from a training hike—a distance that can vary from five to eight miles—and sink into a chair. As I settle into the cushions, the painful tightness in my hips and thighs nearly takes my breath away. When I peel off the hiking shoes that seem molded to my feet and ankles, my sigh is full of relief. Another day done. Whoever said the absence of pain is pleasure, got it right. Only after I examine my feet for blisters and sore spots, massage, elevate, and let them breathe, do I fully relax. And that is when the thought always returns: Why am I doing this, again?

I laugh at myself and remind the inner critic that I’m returning not just for the camaraderie, the experience, or the exercise, but also for writing research. I plan to braid the physical journey to Compostela with the inner landscape of widowhood and what spousal grief has meant to me. Choosing to walk and choosing to write have been two of the important ways I have navigated my loss over the past four years.

There is another choice integral to hiking to Compostela: choosing a rock.

Yes, choosing a rock. 

One of the final stops before reaching Santiago is Monte do Gozo, or Hill of Joy, where pilgrims catch their first glimpse of the cathedral spires in the distance. For many, it’s a place of release and gratitude. Pilgrims often leave a rock there, as a symbolic act of letting go. Unburdening. The stone represents what they have carried during the journey to Santiago: sorrow, loss, hope, prayer, memories.

Two years ago, when I was prepping for Compostela, the idea of choosing a rock weighed on me. What kind of rock? How big? What color? Even though those were small decisions, they felt heavy. Two years of widowhood had already made me decision-weary, my mind was perpetually foggy from grief, my spirit overwhelmed from anxiety and uncertainty.

Because I live in northwest Indiana with the lakefront almost in my front yard, I’m used to walking with my eyes lowered, scanning the shoreline for beach glass and other small treasures. On one of those morning walks, I happened upon a heart-shaped stone. It lay right at my feet, freshly christened by Lake Michigan’s waves. A dull light brown, it fit neatly in the palm of my hand. It was not a perfect heart; a few chips marked its edges. Still, the shape was unmistakable, and I smiled with the simple relief of no longer having to consider the decision. 

 For me, the heart-shaped stone symbolized so much. I was honoring the love of my life, the man to whom I had been married for thirty-seven years. As I walked the Camino, I knew he would travel with me in my heart and mind. The stone also made me think about my own heart’s condition, its resilience, its bruises. Some days my heart felt full and grateful; other days it felt battered by the added weight of assuming Steve’s tasks and roles on top of my own:  mother, grandmother, author, speaker, and fledgling book marketer.

Finding the heart-shaped rock so pleased me that I nearly skipped home. After depositing my beach glass finds in the nearly full jar on the family room shelf, I placed the heart-shaped rock inside a zippered pocket of my backpack for safekeeping. As if it were an obedient dog, I patted the pack before stepping away. My rock would travel in good company alongside the necessary items I would carry:  a water hydration system known as a “bladder,” a mini medical kit for blisters and scrapes, fingerless walking gloves, paisley bandanas, balms for feet and lips, tissues, hand sanitizer, sunscreen, sunglasses, extra pairs of eyeglasses and hiking socks, waterproof pants and a poncho, a journal/notebook, and my pilgrim passport.

Had I chosen well when selecting that rock along the shoreline?

I thought so. I never second guessed myself really. The symbolism of the uniquely shaped rock felt exactly right for my journey to Compostela: the physical miles of the Camino and the inner miles of traveling as a widow, whose tender emotions were still so close to the surface.

All of this, selecting the rock and choosing to hike the Camino again, has made me think differently about decisions, especially the ones we make while living through grief. We want certainty, some assurance that we have chosen wisely in the absence of our special person. But my heart-shaped rock taught me something else. Sometimes the choice we make is not forced or frantic; sometimes it appears quietly at our feet. Our task is simply to recognize it, pick it up, carry it for a while, and when the time comes, set it down with gratitude.

As for what rock I will bring in September to Spain and leave at Monte do Gozo, that’s already been decided. On a beachcombing trip over the Fourth of July, one of my grandkids snatched up a rock, and grinning furiously, he handed it to me. “This is for you.” I studied the nearly perfect triangular shape and grinned back, thrilled with his little gift.  As to what the triangular shape will come to symbolize for me on this second trip to Compostela, I’m willing to let the universe unpack it for me. 

Book News

Jack and Lulu Go to the Tree Farm
has been named a Purple Dragonfly Book Award Winner in two categories:

WINNER

• Purple Dragonfly Book Awards
• Family Matters

WINNER

• Purple Dragonfly Book Awards
• Children’s Nonfiction

Follow Me Here

September 6-22: I’m hiking a section of the El Camino again with Laura Davis’ group, The Writer’s Journey. I’ll be doing research for the third book in my Twice memoir trilogy; its about my journey through love and loss while hiking the Camino. 

October 7 & 27: I’ll be co-teaching two webinars for the Author Learning Center at 1:30-2:30 ET with author Jennifer Briggs, titled: Memoir or Fiction: Choosing the Right Path. 

October 9-11: Find me at the She Writes Press author retreat at the Westin Rancho Mirage Resort in Palm Springs, CA. Thrilled to be selected as a presenter for the panel, “Marketing for Memoirists,” and can’t wait to see my She Writes sisters.

Due to a publishing glitch, the second book in my Let’s Go with Lulu children’s book series, DJ and Lulu Go to the Car Wash, will release later in the year. It’s based on the real-life story about adventures with my oldest grandson during the COVID era.​

March 8 – 12, 2027: I will attend the Her Spirit women’s writing retreat put on by Story Summit in Tucson, Arizona at El Conquistador Tucson, A Hilton Resort.

Follow Julie by visiting her website, subscribe to her bimonthly newsletters, and listen to previous podcast recordings where she discusses topics like adoption, identity, family relationships, sisterhood and belonging.

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