There’s something curious that happens the closer we get to setting out on pilgrimage.
The logistics become clearer—flights are booked, backpacks packed, prayers said.
But the soul questions?
They get quieter… and deeper.
Harder to name.
When I first dreamed of the Camino, I thought I knew what I was hoping for.
Clarity.
Healing.
Direction.
Some holy “aha moment” to crystallize things that have long felt unresolved.
And maybe those longings are still somewhere in me.
But lately, I find I can’t name them as easily. I walk, and I wonder. And I realize—I don’t always know what I need.
And that’s okay.
The work of pilgrimage is not to engineer the outcome.
It’s to show up to the mystery.
To walk with an open heart.
To let the dust of the road settle where it will.
To believe that the Spirit already knows—knows your grief, your hunger, your questions, your hope.
And that grace… will find its way in.
So as I continue to prepare, I’m holding the space between certainty and surrender.
I don’t need to name it all.
I don’t need to explain why I’m going.
I just need to walk.
To let the road speak.
To trust the journey to do what it’s meant to do.
For When We Don’t Know What We Need
Holy One,
I come with more questions than answers,
with longings I cannot always name.
Meet me in the quiet.
Speak through the path, the people, the pauses.
I release the need to control or define.
Teach me to trust
that the Spirit knows what I cannot yet say—
and that grace will find me along the way.
Amen.