I've just got back to my home in Viana, Navarra. My afternoon was spent sitting at a table at my favourite café, conveniently located on the Camino de Santiago, having a coffee and reading. As I was sitting there, a middle-aged Dutch pilgrim sat at the next table along.
I'd watched him earlier as he trudged into town, tired and weary, having walked 35km from Estella. He'd gone to the albergue nearby, showered and changed, and had just sat down for a well-deserved beer.
We made small talk and chatted for about ten minutes, talking about his life and mine. He told me about a time in Mexico when he had entered a church which had been set up for the natives, the walls of which were covered in paintings. The congregation was deep in worship, and he felt a surge of emotion and had burst into tears.
He told me he believed in God, but he didn't like religion. I explained, very briefly, how I have a personal relation with Jesus and don't go into churches to worship, as He is everywhere I go, and that I constantly chat with Him.
He got up after finishing his beer to go back to the albergue. He suddenly stopped and looked at me.
"I don't know why, but I have a feeling, a strange sense, that we were meant to meet today..."
As I walked off, I called after him, telling him that I prayed God would show him why, as he continued on his pilgrimage.