There’s a rhythm that only reveals itself after you’ve been walking for a while.
At first, it’s all planning and pacing, calculating kilometers, counting steps.
But then something shifts. You stop obsessing over distance.
You stop asking how far you’ve come or how much farther you need to go.
You just… walk.
And when the rhythm settles into your bones, something deeper starts to stir.
Not because the road gets easier—often, it doesn’t.
There are still blisters. There are still steep climbs and hot afternoons.
There are still days when your heart feels heavier than your pack.
But that’s when the Camino begins its real work.
Not by removing the difficulty, but by walking you through it.
We live in a world that chases peace as if it’s a prize to be earned.
We crave the quick fix, the instant resolution.
But on the Camino—and in life—peace doesn’t come because things are smooth.
It comes because you keep walking.
You show up, blistered and unsure, and take the next step anyway.
You stay open. You stay present.
And somewhere along the way—peace finds you.
The invitation for today is simple:
Keep going until the peace comes.
Not because you force it. Not because you earn it.
But because grace has a way of meeting those who stay on the path.
So walk.
Through the pain.
Through the silence.
Through the days that don’t make sense.
And trust:
Peace may not arrive when you expect it.
But it will.
For the Peace That Comes Slowly
God of the long road,
When the path feels heavy beneath my feet,
and peace feels far off—
Teach me to walk anyway.
Let the rhythm of each step
become a prayer.
Let silence open the door to Your presence.
Let perseverance prepare the way for peace.
Meet me, not with quick answers,
but with the quiet strength to keep going.
Until the peace comes.
Amen.