Kadish for a woman of valour

This morning at the memorial service for my mom. Gathered together, former students, colleagues, friends, neighbors, family. People I hadn't seen in years. People I had never seen before.

A fitting eulogy which convinced many that the rabbi had actually known my mom, though he hadn't. Reading from the 23rd Psalm ('Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil'). Reading from and discussing Proverbs 31 ('An accomplished woman, who can find? Her value is far beyond pearls'). The mourner's kadish. Sniffling and kleenex using from assorted parts of the chapel, heard but not seen from the front 'family' row. People in suits who are not normally in suits.

A lagoon-front reception, eating and reminiscing, catching up with the seldom seen. Hearing how much my mom meant to people I barely know, and to people I know well. Her caring. Her sharp wit. Her many talents. How proud she was of her children. Vowing to keep in touch, now that the glue holding the rest of the family with her small part of the family is gone.

My mom, who was she? A private person, not someone who would want fifty-odd people meeting in her memory. Not someone who would want to be written about for posting on the internet, or possibly at all. But someone who deserves to be eulogized, and remembered.

*photo: me, my mom, my mom's mom, and my mom's mom's mom: four generations of women of valour*

The Camino

In the Spring of 2003, I was at somewhat of a crossroads of my life, considering starting a PhD in something that I wasn't sure of, and generally looking for a change. I decided the solution, at least for the short term, was to take a few weeks off of work and do the Camino de Santiago. You know, reflect on life, experience communitas first hand, that kind of thing.

They say that the Camino changes people. I had always assumed that this referred to interior change, different priorities, greater maturity or patience or understanding, subtle yet transformative things. What I didn't realize was that it could also signal external upheaval as well. In my case, I ended up meeting a really interesting Danish man, and six months later, I was living in Copenhagen, somewhere that I probably would never even have visited otherwise. So, it can safely be said that my whole life is different because of the Camino. The interior stuff changed some as well.

In the morning of the 14th of June, 2003, Thor and I completed the Camino together. We got our compostelanas together, and had them laminated together (next to the office where they are issued). We then went to mass, for me the third of the journey (I went to one at the beginning, one in the middle, and one at the end). A couple of days later, I went on to spend a few days in Madrid, and Thor went back to Copenhagen. The rest is not so exciting.

The end result is that life went on, but with new possibilities. And now, it's four years later, and I cannot imagine how things would have turned out had I not done the 800+ kilometer journey across the North of Spain. A truly transforming experience, in almost every area of my life.

What has transformed you? Which pilgrimages have you travelled, be they real or symbolic?