We had to return to the coastal plain to catch a plane to Warsaw tomorrow morning. Before we drove down the winding mountain road, we went looking for a certain weaver to buy a prayer shawl for my husband. We walked up the road to the artisan shops in very old stone buildings, I kept seeking the familiar courtyard from my last visit. No luck. Finally we entered a little store to ask about the weaver and there he was! He. moved 2 years ago. We were so fortunate to find him. I sat under a fig tree in the garden waiting for my husband to choose that exact blue shade he wanted and felt so at peace.
The trip back was through an active construction zone for 50 km. In Canada, we start building roads with giant earthmovers. In these rocky hills, they use giant drills to break up the rocks which become the first layer of the road bed and huge dump trucks cart away the rest. It was a single lane of traffic moving slowly down the two lane highway for kilometres. Every so often, the dump trucks would pull over to allow the traffic snaking behind, to pass.
Since we were moving sl slowly, I kept thinking about the weekend of study, prayer, talking with people on a different journey through life than my own and wondered about how I might think of my choices in the future.
Taking a slow journey is a kindness to yourself.