Via Lemovicensis: One Year and Two Drops of Blood 

Scattered and unfocused this morning. It took me way too long to pack up.

One year ago, sometime close to midnight, after the great Easter Vigil, we took Francine to the emergency room.

I knew the day would come. That doesn’t make it any easier. 

It’s hard to remember now, but at the time I was certain the doctors would figure out what this was. I was certain that she would be cured, and that she would be home soon. Oh, there might be some recovery period, long or short, but we would get through this. We always had. 

What actually happened was literally beyond my imagination. I still have trouble wrapping my head around it.

I broke down a little bit at breakfast, and my Dutch friends did their very best to comfort me. 

I didn’t leave until after 8:30 AM. Fortunately, today was to be a short day. The first step, though, was to find a supermarket to restock my badly depleted food stash. Judith had already scoped one out yesterday, so we headed over there.

A cold, overcast morning wandering the mazy streets of La Châtre. it was already after 9 AM by the time we were on the Camino again. As always, the way out of the city is tricky. At least until we spotted the bronze shells embedded in the sidewalk.

It’s a wound; it feels like a physical wound in my heart, now torn open again.

It was 9:20 by the time we left town proper and were walking through suburb of Montgivray. It would be another kilometer or so before the sidewalk ended, and even further before the last of the houses finally petered out.

At some point, we missed a turn, but it was relatively easy to get back onto the route. By 9:50, we were walking through the charming suburban hamlet of Pouzelas. There was an intermittent gravel shoulder next to the asphalt road.

At about 10 AM, we passed by a water tower that looked like a medieval turret. I was unsurprised to learn that this is called Château d’eau. There was a confusing five way intersection here, and it took us a while to figure out which way to go. Eventually though we found ourselves on a dirt road heading into open countryside.

At some point, I took off my fleece. The sky was mostly blue with hazy clouds, and the sun was already breaking through. The cool air felt good on my sunburned arms.

We walked through a long stretch and open fields before passing through the hamlet of Le Petit Chenil maybe about 10:35 AM. 

We crossed a foot bridge over a little stream, and then followed a grassy path through the trees before returning to asphalt.

At about 10:45, in the distance off to our left, I spotted the most stereotypical looking castle you’ve ever seen. It’s sort of shook me out of my stupor, and I realized that I had been zombie walking on auto pilot more or less since we left town.

And then the Camino took a sharp left turn, and I realized we were walking towards it. This is Château de Sarzay, and we entered the village of Sarzay just before 11 AM.

There was a café in the village directly across from the Château, so we parked ourselves there. Café crème and toast with two different flavors of homemade jam – quince and blackcurrant – followed by an Orangina. We didn’t leave until noon.

We walked a grass path through the gardens and into the countryside. At about 12:30, we crossed a small foot bridge over a river teaming with fish. This brought us directly into the large and scattered hamlet of Vignonnet. 

After this, it was roadwalking on

asphalt through the countryside once more.

We entered the hamlet of Montabin at about 12:45 PM. Lots of charming stone houses here, carefully kept, some with sheep grazing in the backyard.

Just after 1 PM, we passed the spot on the map labeled “ancienne abbaye de Varennes”. The original sixth century Benedictine monastery was destroyed by Vikings. The 12th century Cistercian Abbey that replaced it was seized by the Revolution and sold as private property. The church was gutted and turned into a barn. 

Perhaps a kilometer later, the Camino turned up a gravel road past a charming little pilgrim gîte. Given the relatively small number of pilgrims, I’m always amazed at the number of places on this route that cater to us.

Just past the gîte, it was a grass path under the cover of trees, at least for a while. Then it was a dirt path through countryside. We passed by a number of farmsteads, and by about 2 PM were roadwalking on asphalt again.

Perhaps ten minutes later, we entered the village of Neuvy-Saint-Sépulchre, my stopping point for the night. Judith was going to walk another 10 km or so today.

We said goodbye in the church. There is a chance I will see her again in a few days in La Souterraine, but if not, never again. From La Souterraine, she leaves the Camino to walk to Rocamadour, and from there onto the Via Podiensis to Santiago. She will probably arrive a month after me.

The 12th-century basilica of Saint-Étienne is a truly unusual church. It is built in the style of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem, with a rotunda, crowned on the outside with a conical roof. A nave was added in the 13th century. The rotunda is not symmetrical and has only eleven columns, one for each Apostle (minus Judas).

In 1257, Cardinal Eudes of Châteauroux sent two drops of the Precious Blood of Christ to the church here in Neuvy-Saint-Sépulchre, declaring, “This is the most precious relic that exists on Earth”. Somehow, the reliquary survived the depredations of the Revolution and is still here. The case has three locks and an electronic alarm system.

And you can absolutely feel His presence here.

I sat here in silence a long time. For many months now, I have been coming to adoration at my parish church every Monday. I sometimes refer to this as my “yelling at Jesus time”. It’s where I wrestled with everything that’s happened in the past year, asking Him why. Why?

And now what?

How do I go on? How do I carry this? How do I live?

So once again in His presence, I asked all the questions. And I cried.

Why?

Finally, I lit a candle for Francine here.

I left the church to look for my gîte. By the time I had found it, showered, and washed my clothes it was 4:30.

The next trick was to find someplace for dinner. Apparently in this particular area, everything is closed on Mondays. Yesterday, I was in a town where everything was closed on Sundays. This past Wednesday, I was in a town where everything was closed on Wednesdays.

How on earth does anyone in France eat?

The owners of the gîte – they are absolutely lovely people – managed to find me the one open restaurant in the area. It’s about a 2 km round-trip. They also brought me some beer to have with my sandwich to tide me over until the place opens at 7 PM.

There are probably beds for 20 in the gîte, but I am the only one staying here tonight.

So I wrote. 

The restaurant was at the far end of a little lake by the village. I got a bit of a preview of the start of tomorrow’s walk, since the path follows the Camino.

When I returned to the gîte after dinner, I noticed for the first time that there were Calla lilies growing in the garden. We had Calla lilies at our wedding.

It was then that I understood. My pilgrimage started today.

Date: 20 April 2026

Place: Neuvy-Saint-Sépulchre 

Today started: La Châtre 

Today’s Photos!