There’s a quiet shift happening.

The kind you don’t always notice at first—not dramatic, not loud.
But it’s there.
In the stillness.
In the pause before the next step.
In the way your breath settles just a little deeper.

And I think the Camino is already beginning to do its work:
It’s recalibrating my compass.

For so long, life has been busy.
Not necessarily bad — just full.
Full of commitments. Deadlines. Expectations.
Even in good ministry, the pace can become disorienting.

But a pilgrimage isn’t just a pause.
It’s a reorientation.
A return to something truer.
Simpler.
More aligned with God.

The trail is helping me ask different questions.

Not “What do I need to get done today?”
But “What is God forming in me today?”

Not “Am I productive?”
But “Am I present?”

Not “Where am I going?”
But “Am I going with grace?”

This recalibration is slow.
It doesn’t come all at once.
But each day, each quiet walk, each act of letting go—
it’s gently tuning the inner compass again.

Less noise.
More clarity.
Less proving.
More peace.

This Week’s Camino Question:

What’s guiding your steps lately — urgency, or grace?
And what might need to shift to walk more aligned with God?

A Pilgrim’s Reorientation

Gracious God,
In the stillness of this path,
reset my heart.
Quiet the noise of expectation
and tune me again to Your gentle voice.

When I am pulled in many directions,
turn me back to the way of peace.
When I feel lost in purpose,
remind me that presence is enough.

Walk with me, step by step —
not only to guide my feet,
but to steady my spirit.

Help me let go of urgency,
and walk by grace.

Amen.

Buen Camino, friends.
Thank you for walking this journey with me.

Buen Camino

Fr. Don+

As the days draw closer to departure, my pack is nearly ready.
It’s lightweight. Layered. Thoughtfully considered.
I’ve tested the gear. Adjusted the fit. Swapped out the unnecessary.
I’ve done my best to prepare.

And yet, this past week, I’ve been struck by a different kind of readiness—
the kind that has nothing to do with equipment.

Some of the most important things I’m bringing with me… don’t weigh anything at all.

You can’t zip up forgiveness beside your raincoat.
You can’t roll gratitude into your compression bag.
You can’t tuck humility into a dry sack or clip prayer to your shoulder strap.

But these are the things that will shape the journey.
These are the things that will make the Camino more than a long walk—
they will make it a pilgrimage.

Letting Go to Walk Clear

Traveling light isn’t just about shedding physical weight.
It’s about clarity.
Clarity of intention.
Clarity of soul.
Clarity that makes space to notice the beauty you might otherwise miss.

And so I’ve been asking myself:

What do I need to leave behind—not just in my luggage, but in my spirit?
What do I need to forgive, to release, to surrender?

The Camino doesn’t ask for perfection.
But it does ask for honesty.
It asks us to show up with a willingness to be changed.

What I’m Really Packing

So alongside my trail snacks and blister tape, I’m packing things like:

• Patience—for the slow days, the sore muscles, the unpredictable path.
• Prayer—to hold the silence, to carry the stories I’m walking with.
• An open heart—to be reshaped by conversations, by discomfort, by beauty.

These invisible things won’t take up space in my pack.
But I suspect they’ll carry me farther than I know.

This Week’s Camino Question:

What are you carrying into your next season that doesn’t need to come with you?
And what quiet, holy things are you being invited to “pack” instead?

Thanks for walking with me.

Buen Camino,
Fr. Don+

With the days ticking down before I begin the Camino, my packing list is mostly complete.
Gear has been tested.
Layers chosen.
Weight reduced.
Logistics double-checked.

But in these final moments of preparation, I’ve realized something deeper:

Some of the most important things I’m bringing don’t fit in my backpack at all.

What Can’t Be Packed — But Must Be Carried

No checklist or packing cube can contain them.
But they’re every bit as necessary — maybe even more so.

• Gratitude for those who’ve supported this journey.
• Forgiveness for what’s still lingering on my soul.
• Openness to the unknown blessings — and challenges — ahead.
• Presence to each step, each moment, each holy interruption.

These are the intangible things.

Pilgrimage Is Interior Work, Too

Yes, the Camino is physical.
You walk. You sweat. You ache.
But it’s also deeply spiritual.

And if I want to walk this road well, I can’t be carrying resentment.
I can’t be consumed by anxiety or distracted by cluttered thoughts.

So I’ve started asking myself:

• What do I need to lay down before I go?
• Who do I need to bless or forgive?
• What gratitude have I not yet named?

It’s not just about traveling light — it’s about traveling free.

The Invitation

Whether you’re walking the Camino or simply preparing for a new season in your life, ask yourself:

What are you packing that doesn’t weigh anything — but will shape everything?
What are you choosing to carry — on your back, yes, but also in your heart?

Let it be love.
Let it be peace.
Let it be trust in the One who walks beside you.

A Pilgrim’s Prayer for Packing Light in Spirit

God of the long road and the light pack,
As I prepare to walk, help me lay down what I no longer need —
the weight of worry,
the burden of regret,
the heaviness of things I cannot control.

Instead, help me carry what cannot be packed:
Gratitude,
Mercy,
Peace,
An open heart.

Teach me to walk freely and faithfully.
Let every step be guided not by burden,
but by grace.

Amen.

Thank you for walking with me, body and spirit.

As my departure for the Camino draws near, I’ve spent a fair amount of time with maps.

I’ve traced the route.
Marked likely stops.
Read guidebooks.
And tucked away tips from those who’ve walked it before.

But in all this preparation, I know something else is true:

There will come a moment when the map won’t be enough.

The Edge of the Known

It might be a path that’s not clearly marked.
It might be a moment of fatigue or fog or uncertainty.
It might be a change of plans, a sore ankle, or just the realization that
no map can tell you what your soul will need that day.

That’s not failure.
That’s pilgrimage.

Because that’s when we begin walking not just by direction —
but by discernment

Grace Beyond the Guidebook

We like certainty.
We like knowing exactly what’s next.
But the Camino, like the life of faith, invites us into something deeper:

Trust that grace is still ahead of you —
even when the way is unclear.

That trust doesn’t eliminate the need for preparation.
But it transforms it.
Because we begin to rely not just on maps,
but on the God who walks with us.

The Invitation

So here’s what I’m praying for in this season of almost-going:

• Eyes to see what the map can’t show.
• Ears to hear what the Spirit is whispering.
• A heart steady enough to trust when the road takes a turn.

When the map runs out, God’s presence remains.

And that’s more than enough.

A Pilgrim’s Prayer for When the Map Runs Out

Faithful Guide,
There will be days when the trail is unclear,
when the signs are faint,
and when my certainty gives way to hesitation.

In those moments, walk close beside me.

Remind me that I don’t walk alone.
That the journey is not about perfection, but trust.
That grace is always ahead—even when I can’t see it.

When the map runs out,
let my spirit lean into Yours.
And lead me, step by quiet step, into the unknown.

Amen.

Thank you for walking this road of trust with me.

Buen Camino,
Fr. Don+

With my pack nearly ready and my walking shoes well worn in, it would be tempting to think I’ve done all the preparation I need.

But there’s one thing I’ve come to realize in these final days before departure:
The real preparation is not in the packing —
it’s in the surrender.

Not to the itinerary,
not to the weather,
but to the transformation that pilgrimage brings.

Not Just a Journey—A Re-shaping

People talk about how the Camino changes you.

But it’s not magic.
It’s not something you force or orchestrate.

It happens in the slow, silent work of the road.
In the aching feet, the stranger’s kindness, the unexpected detour.
It happens when you stop trying to hold it all together
and let God shape you moment by moment.

A Prayer, Not a Performance

This is not about becoming someone different.
It’s about becoming more true.
More real.
More present.
More grounded in grace.

Pilgrimage peels away the unnecessary.
It quiets the noise.
And it makes room for God to do what only God can do.

I’ve begun praying not just for strength or safety, but for willingness —
willingness to be shaped by the journey.

The Invitation

Wherever you are — whether you’re walking a literal pilgrimage or simply navigating a new season — this invitation is for you too:

Let the journey change you.
Don’t resist the slow work of the Spirit.
Trust that grace knows the way.
And believe that transformation often comes one quiet step at a time.

A Pilgrim’s Prayer for Transformation

Holy and patient God,
As I walk this road,
I offer more than my footsteps —
I offer my heart.

Shape me through the silence.
Teach me through the ache.
Surprise me through grace I don’t expect.

Help me to let go of who I thought I had to be —
and become who You are quietly forming me to be.

Let this journey be a holy fire.
Let it refine me, restore me, and return me more fully to You.

Amen.

Thank you for walking this transforming road alongside me.

Buen Camino,
Fr. Don+

As I prepare to walk the Camino, I’ve been surprised by how often the Spirit teaches me through my feet.

You think you’re just going out for a walk —
but then the road starts talking.

Not with words, but with rhythm.
And that rhythm is slower than you expected.

Not on My Schedule

It turns out, the path doesn’t care about my to-do list.
It doesn’t care how far I meant to go today.
It doesn’t care how fast I walked yesterday.

It simply offers itself —
as it is.
Steep, flat, muddy, beautiful, long, or mercifully short.

And I have to choose whether I’ll fight the pace…
or learn to follow it.

Learning to Walk With God’s Tempo

The more I walk, the more I notice this:
God is not in a hurry.
And when I slow down—really slow down —
I begin to notice things I never saw before.

A patch of wildflowers.
The sound of water under a bridge.
A stranger’s quiet greeting that would’ve been missed if I’d rushed by.

The path teaches me that there is no need to outrun grace.
It will meet me where I am.

The Invitation

So whether you’re walking a pilgrimage or simply moving through your life at a weary pace, here’s the invitation I’m hearing again and again:

Let the path set the pace.
Let grace guide your stride.
And trust that slower steps often take you deeper.

A Pilgrim’s Prayer for the Pace of Grace

God of the long road and the quiet step,
Teach me to match my pace to Yours.

When I want to hurry — slow me.
When I try to prove myself — ground me.
When I feel left behind — remind me You never rush away.

Let the path lead me,
not my pride,
not my fear,
not my schedule.

Shape in me a rhythm of grace —
patient, present, and steady.

And let every step become a prayer.

Amen.

Thank you for walking at this pace with me.

Buen Camino,
Fr. Don+

There’s something deeply humbling about preparing to walk the Camino.

You carry everything you need on your back.
You learn to go slowly.
You become deeply aware of your limits—how much water you need, how far you can walk, how much weight you can carry before your shoulders start to ache.

And in all that—I’ve discovered something beautiful:
the gift of being small.

Letting Go of “Big”

We live in a world that celebrates big things: big dreams, big voices, big plans.
But pilgrimage invites a different way.
It invites us to be small in the most faithful sense of the word.

To be small like a bird on the wind.
To be small like a mustard seed, like a servant kneeling to wash feet, like the quiet ones Jesus called “blessed.”

On the Camino, small doesn’t mean insignificant.
It means right-sized.
It means rooted.
It means dependent — not on ego, but on grace.

Why Small Is Holy

When I feel small, I stop trying to control everything.
I let the rhythm of walking set the pace.
I start noticing the things I usually rush past:
a butterfly on the path, the sound of my breath, the kindness of someone offering directions.

And in those small things, I meet the presence of God.

The God who doesn’t demand strength, but offers rest.
The God who isn’t impressed by credentials, but who lifts up the lowly.
The God who chooses to walk with us—not because we are mighty, but because we are His.

The Invitation

As I prepare to walk this long, ancient road, I want to carry this prayer in my heart:

Let me be small enough to receive.
Small enough to depend.
Small enough to follow.

Because in being small, I find room for God to be big.

A Pilgrim’s Prayer for the Gift of Being Small

Holy and gracious God,
As I prepare to walk this road,
teach me the wisdom of being small.

Let me lay down what I do not need —
the weight of pride,
the burden of proving,
the fear of not being enough.

Let me walk with open hands,
soft steps,
and a heart ready to trust.

Let me see what only the humble can see —
grace in the ordinary,
mercy in the moment,
and You, always walking beside me.

Make me small, Lord —
and in that smallness, make space for joy.

Amen.

Thank you for walking this quiet road with me.

Buen Camino,
Fr. Don+

There’s something tender and unexpected I’ve been noticing as I prepare to begin the Camino.

It’s this:
I feel like I’ve already started.

Even though I haven’t reached Spain,
even though my boots haven’t touched the Camino itself,
my heart has already begun to walk.

The Pilgrimage Begins With Yes

There’s a moment before any true journey when something shifts inside us.
We name the desire.
We pray through the fear.
We say yes to something unknown, sacred, and bigger than ourselves.

That “yes” is the threshold.
And that’s when the pilgrimage really begins.

In the silence.
In the planning.
In the letting go.
In the opening of the heart.

Long before we arrive at the trail, God has already begun shaping us.

Becoming a Pilgrim at Home

Over the past weeks, I’ve walked familiar trails.
And yet, I’ve walked them differently.

Slower.
More aware.
More open to the presence of God in birdsong, strangers’ smiles, and even sore muscles.

That’s the Camino already doing its work.

It begins not with geography, but with intention.
Not with a plane ticket, but with a pilgrim’s heart.

The Invitation

If you’re preparing for a journey—or discerning one—know this:

You may already be on your way.
You may already be learning to walk differently.
You may already be becoming the pilgrim God is calling you to be.

Don’t rush it.
Honour the “yes” you’ve already given.
Trust that your journey has begun—right where you are.

A Pilgrim’s Prayer for Beginning Before the Beginning

God of the journey,
Before I set foot on the trail,
You have already been at work in me.

You stirred the desire.
You planted the call.
You invited me to walk—
not just across land, but toward You.

Bless this in-between space,
this sacred pause between decision and departure.

Teach me to walk, even now—
in prayer, in presence, in preparation.

And when the road opens before me,
let me step into it with peace,
knowing that I’ve already begun.

Amen.

Thank you for walking with me in spirit.

Buen Camino,
Fr. Don+

No matter how much I read, plan, or pack, I’ve come to realize:
I will never be fully prepared for the Camino.

And that’s okay.

Because the point of pilgrimage is not mastery.
It’s surrender.
It’s trust.
It’s being formed by the journey — not before it, but through it.

---

A Different Kind of Classroom

There’s a quiet truth that many pilgrims before me have shared:

“The Camino will teach you what you need to know.”

It will teach through:

• The rhythm of footsteps.
• The surprise of kindness from strangers.
• The discomfort of blisters and sore muscles.
• The grace of sitting still when your body—and your spirit—need to rest.

This is not knowledge you can pack.
It’s wisdom you gather along the way.

---

Lessons Already Unfolding

Even now, before I set foot on the trail in Spain, I’ve been learning:

• To walk slower.
• To hold plans loosely.
• To let go of the need to always know what’s next.
• To welcome the journey as it comes, not as I imagined it.

The road is already teaching.
And I pray I’ll have the humility to keep listening.

The Invitation

Whether you’re preparing for pilgrimage or simply walking through a season of change, here’s what I’ve found to be true:

You don’t have to know everything to begin.

You don’t have to be perfectly prepared.
You just have to be open.
Open to the journey.
Open to God.
Open to being shaped — blisters, beauty, and all.

Let the road teach you.

A Pilgrim’s Prayer for Teachability

Holy Teacher,
As I prepare to walk this path,
quiet my striving,
soften my expectations,
and open me to what You would have me learn.

Let the road become my classroom.
Let the rhythm of walking shape my spirit.
Let the people I meet become unexpected guides.

When I grow impatient, teach me stillness.
When I feel strong, teach me gentleness.
When I feel lost, teach me trust.

I will walk,
not knowing all the answers—
but willing to be changed.

Amen.

Thank you for walking this stretch of the journey with me.

Buen Camino,
Fr. Don+

As the Camino draws nearer, my steps have become slower—not because of fatigue, but because I’m becoming more aware of those I’m walking with.

Not just the pilgrims I’ll meet along the way.
But the ones who won’t be walking the Camino physically—
yet whose presence, stories, prayers, and longings I’ll be carrying with every step.

For the Ones Who Long to Go

Some have said, “I’ve always dreamed of doing the Camino, but my health won’t allow it.”

Others have whispered, “Walk a prayer for me—I’m not able to make it there, but I’ll be with you in spirit.”

And still others—family, friends, spiritual companions—have journeyed on ahead of us, walking now in the nearer presence of God.

Each of these voices, each of these hearts, travels with me.

Pilgrimage as Intercession

There is something deeply sacred about walking on behalf of others.
To name them.
To carry them in prayer.
To pause at a church or cross or fountain and say, “This moment is for them.”

It is one of the most ancient forms of pilgrimage:
walking in the name of another.

And the Camino, with its long silences and open landscapes, creates space for this kind of prayer to stretch and deepen.

It’s not always dramatic.
Sometimes it’s just one step, one name, one quiet tear.

And it’s enough.

---

The Invitation

Before I go, I’m gathering names.

Names of the weary.
Names of the faithful.
Names of those who once dreamed of walking this road and those whose burdens feel too heavy to carry alone.

I’ll bring them in my heart.
Some written in my journal.
Some etched in memory.
Some carried in silence.

So I invite you:
Who are you walking for?
Whose name would you offer to be carried on this Camino?
What story, what prayer, what grief or hope needs to make this journey in spirit?

🙏 A Pilgrim’s Prayer for Those We Carry

Gracious God,
As I prepare to walk this road, I remember those who cannot come with me—
not with their feet, but with their hearts.

For the ones who are ill,
for the ones in grief,
for the ones carrying burdens too heavy for this trail,
and for those who once dreamed of walking but have now walked home to You—

I carry them.
In every step.
In every breath.
In every silent prayer whispered on the wind.

Bless them, O Lord.
And bless this journey made in love,
for we walk together in Your Spirit.

Amen.

If you would like to send me a name, I will carry it with reverence and prayer.
There’s room in the heart.
And plenty of grace along the Way.

Buen Camino,
Fr. Don+