Sometimes a God-placed bench is restorative. I have been surprised by the number of good benches!

I desire more than a good dinner and a quiet, good night’s rest. I want a more prolonged “down-time,” a more enduring, rejuvenating experience.

Not everyone agrees with me. I know that Sigeric disagrees. His 80-day itinerary to Canterbury from Rome is a nonstop hike which forms today’s basic Via Francigena pilgrimage trail. Apparently without a single rest day, Sigeric is a modern marathon runner training for the big day; however, rather than 22 miles, his route is 1200-1400 miles. He must have plowed ahead regardless of weather, terrain, and complaints. I also know that some modern walkers disagree. “Forge ahead. No rest days allowed.” More commonly, because of time and financial constraints most hikers will take a very occasional rest day. Not me.

I’m almost at the end of my last rest period. Tomorrow Mary and I leave Lausanne for Vevey on the lake Geneva steamer “La Suisse.” After Vevey, I hope to hike to St. Bernard’s Pass. I hope! I am refreshed by four rest breaks: 1) Amiens-Arras, 2) Laon- Reims, 3) Besancon-Strasbourg, and now 4) Lausanne-Vevey along Lake Geneva.

Timely rest periods. From prior long distance hikes, I know that I need more than one day. At Burgos, Leon, Lucca, Siena, and more, I would walk 5-6 miles on my rest-day as I rushed to visit as many sites as I could. The old tourist problem! Similar to needing a vacation from a completed vacation upon returning home, I would need a rest day from my rest day! So, my rest breaks are 3 to 5 days! Nice!

Fortunately, my rest periods have been timely, planned breaks. Often after a week of walking, my feet can use a change from hot walking shoes to my Chaco sandals. After a week of the tiresome reality of changing lodging every night, I can relax by not worrying about finding my room, remembering the door code, locating a cafe or supermarket. After a week of stuffing gear in my backpack, I can actually unpack and repack everything.

My rest periods are circumstantial. Obviously, I love history. While reduced to silence at the French Loretta de Norte Dame cemetery, or pondering the monotony and tragedies of ordinary WW1 soldiers at Peronne’s “Museum of the Great War,” I find learning about the major early twentieth century event stimulating. Even though I couldn’t convey in words sitting in Amiens or Reims cathedrals, I am taken back into a different time of faith. Remembering how I anticipated the unknown Besancon and the enchanting, stroll-able Strasbourg, I smile even now. I can watch a young child mesmerized by the sound of a Tibetan horn. Finally, my rendezvous with Mary brings what I most need, a wonderful, cooperative, loving companion.

For the lack of a better word, I find that the rest breaks are comprehensive. One day rest allows my feet and shoulders to recover, but not my mind or spirit. A second day allow me to rest the mind from anxiously wondering about my food and lodging. A third rest day allows my spirit time to ponder, to let surface those half-conscious bubbling thoughts which randomly form while I walk. I find three days are restorative in many ways.

Finally, the rest breaks allow me, in a strange way, to be even more “present” spontaneously. I love sitting in a church unrushed, watching a young person cross themselves before praying or a woman who is as old as the entombed archbishop light a candle. I love planting myself against a wall or sitting inconspicuously in the golden hours of light happily photographing fellow parading humans (and a few dogs). I love the huge smiles and the exciting words of not only meeting a fellow pilgrim, but having the time to hear stories past and present. Of course, we laugh our heads off as Mary tries to mount a medal platform at Lausanne’s Olympic Museum. While a woman of many, many talents, grace sometimes eludes Mary!

We all need those days of rest. In that strange paradoxical manner, my “rest” may involve all sorts of activities. Also paradoxically, while I do these planned or unplanned “doings,” I find that the rest itself is a gift. A invigorating, rejuvenating gift. Maybe an example of those ancient words about blessing and about “his face shining upon us.”