One of the things my best friend and I have learned during our over thirty years of traveling together, especially as we’ve moved onto our oldering phase, is that there are days in our travels that we enjoy staying close to where we are staying and explore the near by.

Yesterday was a ten mile day that got up- graded to eleven miles as we circled Pittsfield, Massachusetts. Who could have imagined the treasures so near?

The day began at our favorite local coffee place. The young tattooed barista said, as she brought her drinks to the table where I sat knitting, “I’d love to be friends with you two!”

A walk in Pittsfield State Park that included time to stop and paint as the leaves dropped around me.

A grilled cheese at a local eatery, Flo’s. This trip has been subtitled the grilled cheese tour as we’ve enjoyed one each day made with the excellent local cheese (guess who tried the onion rings?).

Unexpectedly driving by Tanglewood and stopping for a brief walk there (who knew we were so near?).

A lovely walk through a nature preserve.

Ending our eleven mile travels with ice cream from a local dairy—cranberry chocolate chip for me.

The heavens are still telling the glory of God.

It’s the second leg of my sabbatical/retirement transition travels.

Last May my best friend and I planned a fall visit to a sheep farm in Vermont that we support financially.

This being October, we met in Hartford, Connecticut and took off in our plasma yellow pearl Suburu (yes, that’s a color). My best friend’s pilot son calls these small New England states “toy states” (no disrespect meant). Frankly, as my friend and I traversed roads, we were never sure what state we were in.

Our hotel for the first three nights is in Massachusetts. After breakfast at a local favorite, we drove to Vermont for a quiet visit with the sheep at Wing and Prayer farm.

After the peace of being with sheep that filled my head with psalms, we traveled through various small towns, stopping at bookstores, lunching at a diner, visiting our favorite factory store, and enjoying flat whites. However, the main event was the fall vistas.

As we drove home for the night via New York, we called our view “the heavens are declaring the glory of God.” The owner of the sheep farm had apologized for the lackluster fall color, but for me, it was more than enough.

It takes two days go get home from the Faroes to Houston.

The first leg was a drive from Torshavn to Vagur early in the morning through high winds and rain. The route was via two tunnels through mountains and another under the sea.

We flew from the Faroes to Copenhagen where we had a seven hour layover. We took a taxi from the airport into town to have coffee with a woman who had been our barista at our favorite coffee spot in the Faroes.

She is now a medical student in Copenhagen, and we’d kept up with her between trips. We had an extraordinarily joyful reunion. How unlikely that three women aged 20 to 80 from Georgia, Texas, and the Faroes who met sipping coffee in Brell Cafe would be friends?

Returning to the Copenhagen airport, I had a first at security. Who knew that anointing oil in a carryon would set off alarms? The agent looked curiously at the silver stock, and I signed a cross on my forehead and said, “Priest. Healing oil. Prayers.” After conferring with another agent, she gave it back to me with a shrug.

A walk through the airport included a stop at the Lego shop. Denmark is the home of Legos, and the airport has a shop in at least every terminal. Alas! None of the Lego kits on my grandson’s list was available.

My very best friend was in a serious car wreck several years ago. She has had amazing healing, but cannot walk long distance without great pain. We arranged travel assistance at the Frankfurt airport, and two carts whizzed us from our gate to the front door of our airport hotel.

After a good night’s rest at the airport hotel, we are preparing to board our flight to Houston in a couple of hours.

The first journey of my pilgrimage to retirement is nearly done.

I found spaces to not hurry, good nights’ rest, and time to knit and water color everyday. I rediscovered how much I enjoy walking in beautiful places where it’s not hot. I loved the surprises of ever changing sky and beauty around every corner. I found pauses to read and pray.

Space. Beauty. Pause. Surprise. Movement.

A good start.

On our drives around the islands, there are many lovely churches.

Timber churches.

Churches with beautiful door openers.

Churches with turf roofs and windows stained with the reflection of the sunset sky.

Until today, doors locked tight.

This morning, my best friend and I set off for the northernmost point of the Faroes accessible by car. We knew we would pause for worship somewhere along the way.

We found a beautiful place to stop and do morning prayers from Daily Prayers for all Seasons. As we finished we heard church bells down the road.

We followed the sound of the bells.

The church door was open, and we joined our Faroese neighbors for worship.

As I sat in this exquisite space it didn’t matter that I couldn’t understand one word spoken or sung. My spirit understood perfectly.

The reverence of the people gathered (so many and all ages). The thoughtful architecture. The hymns accompanied by an organ where the congregation embraced being the choir.

During the sermon, I could pray and look at the beauty that surrounded me and let that be the voice of God.

No one greeted us but I felt welcome.

No one gave instructions, but I knew when to stand and to sit because of those surrounding me who did so with such familiarity that it was like a choreographed dance.

It was if everyone had in their spiritual dna to answer the ringing of the church bell and pause and worship God.

It wasn’t a party. It wasn’t a social hour. It was a people being with God.

And children were present.