DAYS 74-76 Ainsworth, NE - 1451 miles from home

76 days out of 150

1451 miles out of 2847

We are now officially more than halfway to Washington, D.C. We've crested the ridge. As my co-pilgrim Bob likes to say: it's all downhill from here.

And yet. We've been grappling with some rainy days and I've been feeling rainy and waterlogged too. I've found myself thinking about intimacy, about love and friendship. All the people who know me best in the world are now more than 1400 miles away. I'm walking through strange lands, as a stranger - and although we are making our way from one warm, embracing host community to the next... nonetheless, it feels strange to feel strange.

On day 74, walking to Valentine, I ran into Zach on the side of the road. He had one hand poised on the handlebars of an old beach cruiser bicycle, walking it down the side of Highway 20. A large handcart was attached to the bike. With his other hand, Zach was leading a skinny pitbull mix dog - "Gary" - on a leash. The handcart held a pile of gear, food, water bottles, clothing and - perched atop the pile - another dog: a pitbull mix puppy named "Little Gary." Are your dogs friendly, I asked? I didn't really need to ask. Little Gary was already leaping off the top of the cart, trying to get into my arms. Big Gary was nuzzling his way toward me. Originally from Niagara Falls, Zach had apparently been on the road for a very long time - at this point trying to make his way to the Oregon Coast. I gave him my pop tarts - and later, down the road, Bob gave him water and food and let him charge his phone in the rig.

The very next day I encountered another traveler, Dustin. Dustin was dragging an old roller suitcase behind him.That looks tough to pull! I (not so helpfully) observed. "It's better than what I had before," he told me. "I used to just carry a big garbage bag." Dustin was traveling to Colorado from South Dakota. A cigarette was dangling from his mouth as we chatted, and he looked a bit rough - like he'd been hoping to hitch a ride for the last hundred miles. "The guy who gave me the suitcase also threw me a pack of cigarettes," he told me. I gave him water, but we didn't talk long.

Two travelers in two days. Bob and Kate and all of us pilgrims have been receiving extraordinary hospitality: mountains of food, warm places to sleep, access to laundry and hot showers. And yet, unlike Dustin and Zach and Gary and Little Gary, we pilgrims have an RV full of stuff and houses waiting for us back home. Most importantly, we have a "back home."

To those who have, more will be given.... Sometimes none of this makes any sense at all.

So I'm thinking about home, and feeling homesick, and acutely aware of what it means to be a stranger. Here in Ainsworth we're in the midst of another warm faith community - another friendly United Methodist Church. We've been welcomed into a kitchen filled with homemade brownies and sweet rolls and Dawn's amazing pumpkin muffins, and savory sloppy joes and chips and veggies and ice cream and fruit and May's fantastic pot roast (beef she raises, of course) and breakfast sausage and bottled water. And invited to the local Ainsworth community center where there were wonderful hot showers (and the adorable sound of kids playing basketball in the gym). It's been another great stay.

AND - notwithstanding the amenities, the absolute highlight of this church stay in Ainsworth has been the Two Beckys: Becky O. and Becky A. - volunteers, church leaders, wranglers of hot meals and hot showers... and best friends. Bob and I have been basking in the halo of their friendship. The obvious love they share for each other, and the way that wraps around their faith and their dedication to the broader church family: this makes the church a home for us as well.

Becky and Becky joke with each other who is "Becky 1" and who is "Becky 2." Becky O. has been in Ainsworth longer, but Becky A. is older. "Just by one month!" Becky A. objects, grinning.

Well, I don't care - I tell them both - as long as I get to be honorary "Becky 3."

But meanwhile, I woke up this morning thinking about my husband, Ezra, at home. I FaceTime with him at least once a day, and even so I miss him terribly. What was I thinking? Five months?!?

Ezra knows every inch of me - the gnarly and the nice. To be seen down to the darkest, deepest grain of yourself: that's truly something. To be seen, to be known, to be loved even so....

Update a few hours later: More church family - and one more lovely meal just now with Dawn and Warren and Becky O.... And then Bob and I chatting with Connie's junior high youth group about what it means to have a dream and turn it into reality... and my greeting all the ladies in the family ministry, as they packed kids' Christmas baskets to be shipped overseas... and folks signing the lovely book on the Nebraska Sandhills that Pastor Mike Eurits gave us... which, it turns out, Pam's husband edited.

This, too. To be loved without being fully known - that's something too.

Oh, and Dawn told me at dinner: "I love the name Esther! I named my milk cow Esther! No, wait, that's a compliment! I love my milk cows!"

Becky O and Becky A - the two Beckys. Ainsworth United Methodist Church.

Zach and Gary - on the road to Valentine.

Memorial to one Wendy Gary on the side of Highway 20.

En route to Valentine, NE.

Outside Valentine, NE.

The Cowboy Trail: rails to trails in Nebraska.

The mellowest cow I've encountered yet. Alongside the Cowboy Trail....

Sandhills and old tree, on the side of the Cowboy Trail.

Crossing the Niobrara River: an old railway bridge on the Cowboy Trail, east of Valentine, NE.

The Niobrara railway bridge.

Vulture in flight over the Niobrara. (Three vultures perched on the rails of this old railway bridge, scooting and flying ahead of me as I walked forward.)

Dawn, Ainsworth United Methodist Church.

Warren, Ainsworth United Methodist Church. (Paulette is in the background, signing the Nebraska Sandhills book - a gift from Pastor Mike.)

Dawn's milk cows. Esther is on the far right! (Photo by Dawn.)

Ezra Tishman, and Opal dog. Eugene, Oregon.