Today was a travel day. We packed up and began the road trip from Akureyri to the Westfjords.

When my friend and I had to do a little reorganizing of our trip due to Hurricane Irma, we had to choose which places we wanted to see most. After a lot of research, we decided to go to the Westfjords, a remote and even more wild corner of Iceland.

We began the five hour trip knowing it would take us far longer. As always, there were many stops for photographs, walking, painting, and even ice cream.

Leaving The Ring Road that circles the country, we headed up the stunning east coastline of the Westfjords.   After nine hours of driving, we were finally in the small fishing town of Holmavik.

Though we thought we had planned well, it turns out that we had been given some misinformation.  I should have known since every time I googled the town the top piece of information is about the Witchcraft and Sorcery Museum. Yikes!

Turns out that the  tourist season here ends August 21.  All but one restaurant had closed; it was the restaurant that was attached to the Witchcraft museum, and it had limited hours.  The laundry service we’d been promised (having brought a week’s worth of dirty clothes) never was a possibility.  Finally, in this remote town it appeared we were the only guests in the hotel.  It was all rather creepy.  I think it was that Witchcraft museum.

At least we had good internet.

After agonizing over what to do, we decided to stay the night and find another place to stay tomorrow.  That being said, we also had to agonize where in Iceland we wanted to travel to next.  I guess agonize and travel in Iceland don’t really go together.  After all, it is Iceland.  It’s all beautiful!

We went down the hill to the lovely grocery store and bought some provisions for a picnic dinner in the room.  Then as the sun set, we took a walk to the local church.  The steeple, I’m afraid, looked like a witch’s hat, with a cross on top.

Tomorrow we’ll drive some more through the Westfjords and to a place that will be back near the Ring Road.  We’ve decided that for the rest of our stay we’ll cut back on driving so we’ll have more time for stopping and exploring.  And laughing, too.  And, oh yes, doing laundry. 

I usually begin planning vacations months and months before going. I set the date, buy tickets, make reservations, and do all the rearranging and arranging that goes into leaving work and home. 

The vacation is set on the calendar not knowing what will be at the center of my life when I actually go. 

My first trip to Iceland was weeks after the Tax Day flood and the two feet flooding of my home. 

My second trip to Iceland was weeks after the Harvey flood and the five feet flooding of my home. 

Iceland, with it’s beauty and awayness, is many things for me.  It appears that at the heart of my trips here is that Iceland is a place for me to heal. 

Yesterday, we traveled east to hike to waterfalls. Goðafoss. Dettifoss. Selfoss. 

In the midst of roaring water, rocky and uneven paths, under a blue beyond imagination sky, the tears finally came about this last flooding of my my home and the homes of so very many others.  Finally I was able to begin the next steps of healing.  I will say that God and I had some very serious chats about what in the world God was doing in this terrible catastrophe. 

The last place we visited yesterday before going back to our hotel was a church that was built very near Goðafoss to commemorate the one thousand year anniversary of Iceland accepting Christianity.  Tradition has it that when the king of Iceland decided to make Christianity the nation’s official religion, he threw the pagan idols into the waters of Goðafoss. 

The waterfall where a people gave up their past ways and turned completely to God is where my tears of grief and anger over yet another flood began to flow at the beginning of this day’s travels.  When I ended the day’s travels was at the cross built outside the church nearby praying words of Compline, 

Guide us waking, O Lord, and guard us sleeping.   That awake we may watch with Christ, and asleep we may rest peace. 

Pause. Rest. Sabbath. Stopping.

Islandic ways for a pilgrim priest to walk through a Sunday.

To begin the day, I walked down the hill and up one hundred steps to worship at Akureyrikirkja. It turned out that it was children’s worship today, which included much singing with dancing, leaping, and hand motions with a bevy of blond haired children. Of course all of the worship was in Icelandic, but the familiar Gospel about Sakkeus (Zaccheus) was easily understood. Joy and delight.

After a “small” dipped cone at the place reported to have the best ice cream in Iceland, my friend and I were off on a road trip to what we called the top of the world–scenic driving and stopping along Tröllaskagi.

The day included poking in and out of churches, breath-taking vistas, endless pastures polka-dotted with sheep of a variety of colors, a picnic overlooking the fjord, yarn shopping in the grocery store, and cappuccinos sipped outside overlooking a harbor.

The highlight of the day was a happenstance stop at the church in Ölafsfjarðar. The priest, Sigríður Munda Jönsdöttir, was just leaving for the day, and graciously stopped to tell us about the church. This led to wonderful conversation about their outreach ministry with children. Our time together ended with praying the Lord’s Prayer in our own language.  As Sigríður kept saying, “We are all one.”  After hugs all around and contacts exchanged, we parted with big smiles at how God had brought us together that day.

Pause. Rest. Sabbath. Stopping.

Hlé. Hvíld. Hvíldardagur. Stöðva.

Yesterday’s five hour drive from Reyjkavik to Akureyri in the far north of Iceland ended up taking my friend and me nine hours–not for any reason except that we get easily distracted and like to stop and look. This time, jet lagged as we were, we also had to pull over for two fifteen minute naps along the way. 

Today we decided we would have a walking day. We spent most of the day walking hilly Akureyri, jacket hoods up and down depending on the rain, doing the same kind of easily distracted traveling that we usually do in the car. 

Walking with a friend, that means there is twice the stopping and starting.  With the extra stopping, more not so tiny treasures get found. 

A place to stop and draw in an art museum. 

Painted sidewalks. 

Stoplights reimagined after the 2008 financial crisis in Iceland. 

Stopping meant an interesting extended conversation with a shopkeeper. As is often the practice, Icelanders want to know where you are from. When my friend replied to the shopkeeper’s query that I was from Houston, and that, yes, I had flooded, five feet worth, his look of deep compassion was unexpected. He began to talk about how distressed the Icelanders were with the devastation;  he was even more distraught about the response of Pastor Joel Osteen to the flood, as had been reported in the news in Iceland. Iceland!

This gives me pause. I don’t know the whole front and backstory of Pastor Osteen’s actions. As clergy who has made her own pastoral mistakes, I want to give him the benefit of the doubt. However, I am struck how viral such actions of perceived neglect from a person of enormous wealth and professed faith are noticed and remembered.  Especially when there was so very, very much more extraordinary responses offered, some of which the shopkeeper did speak also. 

Still, this is why we Christians must always strive to be known by our acts of love, so that is the Gospel that is always preached. People near and far notice. 

I ended the day praying LiveFeed Compline with my friends at St. Mary’s.  Revd. Alan will post it seven hours afterwards in St. Mary’s Compline hour. In the midst of the sunset outside my hotel window, a rainbow shone. 

In the morning, I’ll walk down the hill to the local church for Sunday worship; I understand it’s their version of “Rally Sunday.” That should make for a lively beginning of the day. 

Meanwhile. I’ll end in Icelandic for good bye:  Bless Bless.