There’s a particular kind of grace that only seems to emerge when we slow down long enough to notice it.
It’s not flashy.
It doesn’t come with fanfare.
It often arrives as a glance. A nod. A simple “Buen Camino.”
But in those tiny, ordinary moments, something sacred happens:
We are seen.
Not as tourists.
Not as strangers.
But as fellow pilgrims — walking the same dusty road, holding similar questions, hoping to find something deeper along the way.
I’ve started paying attention to these moments.
The fellow walker who slows their pace just enough to match mine.
The shared silence at a trail marker.
The quiet offering of water or encouragement when you didn’t even ask.
These aren’t grand gestures. They’re human ones.
And in their simplicity, they carry a weight of meaning that words rarely reach.
In the rest of life, we spend so much time trying to be recognized for what we do — how hard we work, how competent we are, how well we’re performing. But the Camino reminds me that there’s a deeper hunger in us all:
To be seen just as we are.
Not for our effort, but for our presence.
That’s what makes these small gestures so powerful.
They speak to the dignity in each of us.
They say, “You matter — because you’re here.”
This is the ministry of simple kindness.
And I hope to carry it home with me — not just in my pack, but in my way of being.
Today’s Reflection:
- When was the last time you felt truly seen — not for what you did, but for who you are?
- Who around you today might be carrying something invisible, hoping someone will notice?
- What simple act — eye contact, a gentle word, a moment of stillness — might become your ministry of presence?
Buen Camino,
Fr. Don+
For the One Who Walks Beside
May you see and be seen today.
Not for what you’ve done,
but for the quiet grace you carry just by being here.
May your glance lift another.
May your presence speak peace.
May your steps create a gentle path where others feel welcome.
And when your own spirit grows tired,
may kindness find you too —
unexpected, unearned, and deeply healing.
In every moment of shared silence,
in every gesture of quiet love,
may Christ walk beside you.
Amen.