Anything You Want, You got It.

Roy Orbison, Coffee, and Castles

I didn’t intend to tell you I rode the bus on my Camino hike. I intended for it to be my secret. Given that you are sitting here reading this, that means I didn’t keep my secret very well. And, if it was all about me then I wouldn’t have told you. But it’s not about me. And it’s not about projecting some type of picture of perfection. It’s about owning the story.

I walked my sleepless self to the nearest bus stop about half a mile away. 15.3 kilometers to the east was the city of Astorga, and therein lay my hopes of both coffee, rest, and a sleeping bag for my journey.

Much to my surprise, when I arrived at the bus stop three other pilgrims were there waiting to catch a ride, too. For a thousand steps I’d berated myself for not being a “real peregrino,” and here were three others just like me and just as real. I got on the bus, vowing to keep my secret always and never tell anyone I’d cheated on my hike.

Arriving in Astorga I was struck by history, beauty, and how architecture flows like water in Europe. As if having a stunning cathedral was not enough to define one small Spanish city, there was a small palace designed and built by Salvador Gaudi just across the square. Holy stunning stone overload.

Searching online for the next church service, I went into the church in prayerful contemplation. (More on that in my post “International Crime Spree.”) I left a short while later, leaving one hopeful spiritual encounter to search instead for another. Okay, perhaps caffeine isn’t a spiritual experience. But it was morning and cold and I was surrounded by millenia-old beauty and it deserved to be capped off with a café au lait.

What happened next was yoga. It was meditation. It was prayer and fasting and church and communion and relationship and connection all in one. Taking a seat in the back corner of the tiny coffee shop, occupying a tall bar table in the corner, I propped my backpack against the wall, ordered my café, and began spilling my heart right through my Bluetooth keyboard and onto the Notes function of my phone.

I wrote about two Tylenol PM and ½ a sleeping pill having no impact or ability to bring me rest the night before. I wrote about growing up to care for others and, sitting there with shin splints and cut toes, having never learned how to take care of myself. I poured out my thoughts, hopes, heartaches and dreams tucked in the corner while sipping frothy milk.

In that moment, I was in eternity. I was in the presence of Grace. I was surrounded by Truth and Life and Hope. I asked for a backpack and poles “if I need them” and, with Arturo’s voice in my head, sat confidently asking Life for what I need.

Surrounded by grace, I let it flow through me. Beyond hopes and dreams, I got real about bruises and hurts. I let go. I recognized the things that I’d carried too long and I asked for help releasing the things I still held onto needlessly. I recognized that grace works best when it flows freely, and that I was meant to be a conduit instead of a cistern. In that, Love and I got real about the troll who I’d allowed to torment my days, and I realized that Life loved the troll as well. I asked for the ability to love.

I left, followed faulty directions to a nonexistent now-boarded-up sporting goods store in hopes of buying additional gear. Strolling through the town on a fruitless shopping trip ended up being the greatest blessing of my day because it put me in the town square just in time for an impromptu street concert. Sitting down to admire the moment, I was pleased when the musician started singing in English-language hits from my childhood.

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I tipped the singer, then put my phone away to just enjoy life in the moment instead of through a screen. Then, the lyrics of the next song surrounded me. There, in front of the church, sitting next to Gaudi’s creativity preserved in stone, this pilgrim learning to ask for what she needs hears these lyrics as if flowing from the heart of Love:

Every time I look into your loving eyes I see a love that money just can't buy One look from you I drift away Afraid that you are here to stay Anything you want, you got it Anything you need, you got it Anything at all, you got it, baby Every time I hold you I begin to understand Everything about you tells me I'm your man I live (I live) my life (my life) to be (to be) with you (with you) No one (no one) can do (can do) the things (the things) you do (you do) Anything you want, you got it Anything you need, you got it Anything at all, you got it, baby

Anything you want (you got it) Anything you need (you got it) Anything at all

I'm glad to give my love to you I know your feel the way I do Anything you want, you got it Anything you need, you got it Anything at all, you got it, baby

I basked in the words just as the sun broke through the wispy clouds and basked me with its warmth.

Rebecca,” the Spirit whispered to me. “You’ve got it. Ask me for what you need. Ask me for what you want. I’m glad. to give. My love. To you. Anything at all… you’ve got it.”

Friends, I cannot tell you fully about that moment, because it was so perfect, so intimate, so timely and so entirely mine. What I know is that between the coffee, the walking, the sunshine, the architecture, and the English-singing Spanish musician in the town square at just the exact moment I was passing by…it felt like a gift from above, designed, commissioned and created specifically for me. It was beyond perfect. And it was mine.

Picking up my pack, I journeyed on. About five blocks through the ancient part of the small city, at the end of a crowded block on the corner on the right there was one small sporting goods store about the size of a modest Post Office. In the store they had one, just one, sleeping bag. It was small, packable, warm enough for my October nights hiking and compact enough to fit in my backpack if I tossed my remaining goodies from the plane.

Anything you want, you got it.

Anything you need, you got it.

Anything at all, you got it, baby….

There, alone, I was surrounded by grace. I soaked in the presence of acceptance and identity and favor. I stood in my own shoes, I asked for what I needed, and I accepted the provision of grace.

Journeying on from there for the day led to me Ponferrada, another church to cap off my evening, and the wisdom of pilgrims 20,000 kilometers into their journey. But for now, in this moment, I had every single thing I needed.