As I walk in preparation for the Camino de Santiago, one of the most unexpected lessons has been this:
Sometimes the holiest thing you can do is stop.
Not push.
Not press on.
Not muscle through.
Just stop.
Rest.
Breathe.
Learning to Pause
Taking a break doesn’t always come naturally.
Many of us have been trained to measure progress by how far we’ve gone, how much we’ve carried, how fast we’ve arrived.
But the Camino invites a different rhythm.
One where progress includes pausing.
Where rest is not failure—but faithfulness to the needs of the body, the soul, and the Spirit.
I’ve found that on longer walks—even just here at home—my feet aren’t the only thing that needs rest.
Sometimes my mind does.
Sometimes my heart does.
And when I stop—really stop—something shifts.
God Walks Slowly
One of the gifts of Scripture is how often Jesus is found walking—and pausing.
He stops at wells.
He lingers with people.
He retreats to rest and pray.
Even on the road to Emmaus, the Risen Christ walks patiently alongside two confused disciples—not rushing, but waiting for them to see.
Rest isn’t weakness. It’s a sacred part of the journey.
The Invitation
So as I prepare to walk the Camino, I’m learning not just to plan my steps, but to plan my pauses.
- To sit beneath a tree.
- To share a quiet moment with a stranger.
- To take off my boots, stretch, drink water, breathe.
Whether you’re on pilgrimage or just navigating a full day—remember this:
It’s okay to stop.
It’s okay to rest.
It’s okay to do nothing for a moment.
You might just find God waiting in that stillness.
Thanks for walking with me—even in the pauses.
Buen Camino,
Fr. Don+
A Prayer for Rest on the Journey
Gracious and gentle God,
You have taught us to walk in faith,
not by racing, but by following.
Not by striving, but by trusting.
Teach us to pause.
When the road is long,
and the load feels heavy,
help us to stop—without shame—
and rest in your presence.
Let the stillness renew us.
Let the silence speak your peace.
Let each breath remind us
that we do not walk alone.
Bless the bench, the breeze, the shared water bottle.
Bless the moments when we let the world slow down
and simply be.
And when we rise to walk again,
may we carry not just strength,
but the memory of your quiet grace
that meets us in the pause.
Through Christ our Companion on every road,
Amen.