Welcoming the Stranger

For the past month, this is what we have been doing. Walking (or hobbling) between little villages in Spain, with only one change of clothes in our backpacks, and praying for food and a cheap place to stay (since our South African rand do not go very far in Europe). And even though I did this for days and days, it still struck me every time– this bizarre warm welcome. I’m a stranger. I don’t speak the language. I have nothing to offer.