Grace doesn’t always shout. Sometimes it whispers.
When we imagine walking the Camino—or any long journey—we often think about the big moments.
The mountains. The milestones. The breakthroughs.
But in my preparation, I’ve discovered something even more sacred: the small things.
The cool shade after a long stretch in the sun. The silence between footsteps. The quiet hello from someone walking the other way.
Grace in Miniature
I’ve started paying more attention to these little things. Noticing them. Naming them. Blessing them.
They’re easy to overlook. A patch of wild mint. A robin’s call. A stone that catches the light just right.
But these small moments are not small to God. They’re how grace often comes—subtle, simple, and steady.
And they carry us.
Pilgrimage is made not of highlights—but of faithful steps.
A Spiritual Practice of Blessing
So I’ve begun a quiet practice: At some point in each walk, I stop. I look around. I pick one small thing, and I bless it.
A tree. A breeze. The ache in my knees.
I name it holy, because it is. It’s part of the road. It’s part of the journey. And God is in it.
The Invitation
You don’t have to be on the Camino to live this way.
Today — right where you are — try this:
Notice one small thing.
Pause.
Bless it.
Give thanks.
The kingdom of God is full of small things. And when we bless them, we begin to see just how much beauty we’ve already been walking past.
It’s not the size of the moment—it’s the love with which we walk through it.
A Prayer for the Small Things
God of the quiet and unnoticed, You are in the stillness and the sunlight, the kindness of strangers, the dust on the road, the breath that fills my lungs.
Today, I bless the small things: The things I would usually miss. The simple. The ordinary. The slow.
Let me not rush past what you have made sacred. Let me walk with gratitude for the ground beneath me, the wind beside me, and the grace that travels with me—unseen but sure.
You don’t need to see the whole path—just the next step.
“You don’t need to see the whole path—just the next step.”
As the beginning of the Camino draws near, I find myself sitting with a strange mix of feelings:
Excitement. Readiness. A bit of nervous energy. And, underneath it all, a deep awareness of how much I still don’t know.
I’ve prepared. I’ve walked local trails. I’ve gathered the gear, read the books, spoken to those who’ve gone before.
And yet—I still don’t really know what this pilgrimage will hold.
The Heart of Pilgrimage Is Trust
Every true pilgrimage involves some level of not knowing. That’s what makes it sacred.
The early Christians didn’t call themselves “believers” or “members.” They called themselves Followers of the Way — people who walked without having all the answers, people who lived with open hearts and willing feet.
They didn’t walk by certainty. They walked by trust.
Even the unknown can be holy ground
What Will the Road Hold?
I don’t know exactly where I’ll be when grace shows up. I don’t know who I’ll meet. I don’t know what will be harder than expected—or more beautiful than imagined.
But I believe this: God will be there.
In the step I take into the unknown. In the companions I meet. In the questions that rise. And in the quiet moments that remind me I’m not walking alone.
The Invitation
Whatever journey you’re on — spiritual, personal, or physical — you may find yourself standing at the edge of something uncertain.
Don’t let that stop you. Let it open you.
Some of the most sacred stories begin in the fog.
Walk anyway. God is already on the road.
The way will reveal itself, step by step.
A Prayer for the Journey Into the Unknown
Faithful God, You have always been the God of the journey— not just the destination.
Today I stand on the edge of something I cannot fully see. There is wonder here. And there is fear. And yet… I hear You whisper: Go.
So I will take the next step. Even if I don’t know what’s ahead. Even if the way feels unclear.
Meet me on the road, Lord— in every surprise, every silence, every soul I encounter. And walk with me through every unknown.
You can walk many miles and still miss the journey—unless your heart walks too.
There’s a difference between a tourist and a pilgrim.
Tourists seek experiences. Pilgrims seek transformation. Tourists take pictures. Pilgrims leave prayers. Tourists move through a place. Pilgrims let the place move through them.
As I prepare to walk the Camino de Santiago, I’ve been asking myself: Am I only preparing my feet? Or am I preparing my heart, too?
More Than Miles
Walking the Camino is a physical challenge. There will be tired legs, aching shoulders, and blisters — probably more than I want to admit.
But beyond the physical effort, there is a deeper journey unfolding.
It’s the journey of the heart. The interior Camino. The quiet, often unspoken work that God does while we walk.
It doesn’t require the perfect pace or the perfect prayer. It only asks for openness — a willingness to be shaped.
What Is a Pilgrim Heart?
A pilgrim heart is:
Open to the presence of God in unexpected places.
Humble enough to receive help, grace, and kindness.
Willing to be interrupted, changed, and even rerouted.
Quiet enough to listen.
Brave enough to ask, “What is this journey teaching me about who I am — and who God is?”
And most of all, a pilgrim heart trusts that the walking is part of the prayer.
The Invitation
You don’t need to be walking across Spain to live as a pilgrim.
Whether you’re preparing for the Camino, caring for others, navigating a hard season, or simply showing up for your daily life — the invitation is the same:
Walk with a pilgrim heart.
One step at a time.
One prayer at a time.
One quiet “yes” at a time.
This is the way of a pilgrim: to walk slowly, see deeply, and let grace shape the soul.
A Prayer for a Pilgrim Heart
Loving God, As I prepare to walk this road, shape in me a pilgrim’s heart.
Open my eyes to see more than the path. Open my ears to hear what silence speaks. Open my spirit to receive what only the journey can give.
When I grow tired, teach me to lean on grace. When I feel lost, remind me You are already ahead of me. When I am afraid, help me take the next step anyway.
Let this walk change me — not by arriving, but by trusting. And may I return not just with stories, but with a heart made new.
Not every step is fast. But every step can be faithful.
As I prepare to walk the Camino, I’m noticing how easy it is to focus on the what of walking — what to bring, what shoes to wear, what route to take, how many kilometers to cover.
But beneath all of that, there’s another question rising in me—one that feels even more important: How will I walk?
Not just physically. But spiritually. Intentionally. Prayerfully.
Because this isn’t just a journey for the body. It’s a journey of the soul.
Why Intention Matters
We live in a culture that prizes speed, metrics, efficiency. How far? How fast? What did I accomplish?
But the Camino invites a different way—a slower, more deliberate rhythm. It doesn’t ask, “What did you produce?” It asks, “What did you notice? What did you receive?”
To walk with intention is to choose presence over pace. It’s to allow the trail to become a place of communion — with God, with the earth, with others, and with our own breath.
Walking with intention turns the trail into a sanctuary.
Practicing a Prayerful Pace
As I walk my local trails in preparation, I’ve started adding a small practice: Before each walk, I pause.
I ask:
What am I walking with today — joy? fatigue? worry?
Who am I walking for—someone who needs prayer, someone I carry in my heart?
What might God be trying to show me if I simply slowed down enough to see?
Sometimes the answers are clear. Sometimes they aren’t. But the pause changes everything. It shifts the walk from a task into a prayer.
The Invitation
Whether you’re preparing for pilgrimage or simply navigating the day-to-day rhythms of life, I invite you to ask:
How will I walk today? What will I bring into the journey — not in my pack, but in my heart?
When each step is prayer, the whole road becomes holy.
Thanks for walking this path with me.
Buen Camino, Fr. Don+
A Prayer for Walking with Intention
Gracious and guiding God, Before I take this step, I pause. Before I begin this walk, I listen.
Help me to walk not just to get somewhere— but to be here, now, with You.
Let this journey be more than movement. Let it be prayer. Let it be presence. Let it be peace.
May my pace be unhurried. May my heart be open. And may my steps be shaped by grace.
Amen.
Walking Intentionally: A Practice to Begin the Day
Before setting out, pause for one minute and ask:
What am I bringing with me today? (A hope? A burden? A person on your heart?)
What do I need to let go of before I begin? (A worry? A distraction? An expectation?)
Where might I meet God along the path? (In a stranger’s smile? In silence? In the beauty around me?)
Then take a breath. And begin the walk—aware, open, and held in grace.
As the beginning of the Camino gets closer, I find myself noticing all the little things I haven’t done.
There are miles I meant to walk. Books I planned to read. Gear I’m still unsure about. Spiritual questions I hoped would be more… resolved.
But here’s the thing: life rarely waits for everything to be tidy. And neither does pilgrimage.
We’re invited to walk anyway.
Pilgrimage Doesn’t Require Perfection
There’s something beautifully human about beginning a holy journey before everything is figured out.
Think of Abraham, who followed God without a map. Think of the disciples, who said yes to Jesus without a résumé. Think of saints and pilgrims across generations—walking not because they were ready, but because they were willing.
The Camino does not ask for perfection. It asks for presence.
God doesn’t need you to be polished. Just open
Unfinished, but Already Enough
What if being unfinished isn’t a failure? What if it’s actually faithfulness?
To walk while still healing. To begin while still questioning. To trust while still unsure.
We don’t walk the Camino because we have everything sorted. We walk because God meets us along the way.
The Invitation
If you’re preparing for a journey—whether physical, spiritual, or emotional—and you feel unready, remember this:
God works with unfinished people. Always has. Still does.
Just start walking.
Every step is shaping you. Let that be enough for today.
A Prayer for Beginning Before You’re Ready
Holy God, You are the One who called the disciples while their nets were still wet, and Abraham before he knew the road.
Call me too— not because I am ready, but because You are faithful.
Meet me in my questions, my half-packed bag, my good intentions and quiet fears.
Bless my imperfect preparation. Make space for grace in what’s missing. And walk beside me as I begin, unfinished but willing.
Before you carry something sacred, you often need to lay something else down.”
As I near the beginning of my Camino pilgrimage, something unexpected has been happening.
I find myself thinking less about what I still need to bring— and more about what I’m finally ready to leave behind.
Packing for a pilgrimage isn’t just about shirts and socks and a rain cover. It’s about letting go.
Letting go of the clutter I’ve held onto, the fears I’ve carried longer than I meant to, the expectations I’ve placed on myself that have quietly become burdens.
Empty Hands, Open Heart
The Camino isn’t walked best by those who carry the most. It’s walked by those who know how to travel light. Not just in pack weight—but in spirit.
Jesus sent out his disciples with nothing but trust and each other. No extra baggage. No backup plan. Just the road… and the promise that God would meet them in the going.
And I believe the same is true for this journey.
Sometimes, what we leave behind is the holiest offering.”
What I’m Letting Go Of
I’m letting go of the pressure to do the Camino perfectly. I’m letting go of the worry that I haven’t trained enough. I’m letting go of the noise that tells me I need to earn this time with God.
And in its place, I’m choosing to carry:
Openness
Gratitude
And just enough courage to say “yes” to whatever the road brings
The Invitation
Wherever you are—preparing for pilgrimage, walking your own daily journey, or just longing for peace—ask yourself:
What am I carrying that no longer needs to come with me? And… What might God want to place in my hands instead?
Empty hands are ready to receive.
Prayer for Release and Readiness
Gracious God, You are the One who calls me to walk in freedom.
Today, I let go of what weighs me down: old fears, loud doubts, anxious striving, the pressure to be perfect, the fear of not being enough.
I open my hands in trust.
Make me light enough to walk with joy, empty enough to receive your grace, and brave enough to say yes to the journey ahead.
Prepare me, not just to arrive — but to walk in peace, one sacred step at a time.
Some of the holiest moments come with no fanfare, just presence.
As I walk in preparation for the Camino, I’ve been thinking more and more about encounter.
We often imagine sacredness in terms of places — cathedrals, shrines, quiet chapels — but there’s another kind of sacred ground: the space between people.
And that sacredness reveals itself in some of the most ordinary ways.
A stranger who greets you with a kind word. A fellow walker who slows down to match your pace. A brief conversation that lingers in your heart long after it ends.
The Unexpected Grace of Others
I’ve met people on local trails — people I wouldn’t have noticed had I not been walking slowly enough to see them.
A nod of shared understanding. A smile from someone you pass going the other direction. A moment of rest shared on the same bench.
And each time, I’m reminded: We are not walking alone. God places companions in our path—not always for long, but always for good.
Some of these encounters feel like coincidence. But I’m beginning to trust that they’re gifts — small sacraments of presence and grace.
We carry each other’s stories for a little while
A Ministry of Presence
The Camino is not just a solitary journey. It’s a shared pilgrimage, one marked by hospitality, listening, and mutual blessing.
I may walk beside someone for a few steps or a few miles. We may share a story, or say nothing at all. But something holy happens when paths cross and spirits recognize each other.
These aren’t always dramatic encounters. Sometimes they’re quiet. But they’re no less sacred for being simple.
The Invitation
Whether you’re walking the Camino, preparing for it, or simply navigating your day-to-day life, the invitation is the same:
Be open to the people God places in your path. Be present enough to see them. And humble enough to receive what they offer.
Because sometimes grace doesn’t shout. It just walks beside you for a while and then moves on.
God walks among us, one encounter at a time.”
As I prepare for this pilgrimage, I carry with me a deep gratitude for every sacred encounter—past, present, and still to come.
Buen Camino, Fr. Don+
Reflection Prompt: Encountering Grace Along the Way
Set aside a few quiet moments—before or after a walk, during evening prayer, or at the close of your day—and consider the following:
Who crossed your path today?
Was there a brief exchange, a quiet kindness, or even a moment of shared silence that stayed with you?
Did you feel seen, heard, or welcomed—even if only for a moment?
Were you able to offer someone else that same grace?
What if God was present in that encounter—however small—and what might that mean for how you walk tomorrow?
You may wish to write a few names or moments in a journal, or simply hold them in prayer.
Prayer for Sacred Encounters
Loving and ever-present God, You walk beside us, often unnoticed, disguised in the faces and footsteps of others.
Open my eyes to the people You place in my path— the stranger, the fellow pilgrim, the quiet friend. Let me receive their presence as holy, and offer my own with gentleness and grace.
Teach me to honour the simple gift of showing up— to walk at the pace of kindness, to speak peace, to listen with compassion, and to part with blessing.
In every encounter, may I remember: You are here, walking with us. You are here, hidden in each other. You are here, always just ahead.
As I prepare to walk the Camino de Santiago, I’ve been spending time with the namesake of this journey — St. James the Apostle, or as he’s known across Spain and around the world, Santiago.
His story is woven into the heart of this pilgrimage. Not because he was the most polished or the most prominent of the apostles — but because he was among the first to say yes to the call of Jesus.
A Fisherman Called to Follow
James, the son of Zebedee, was a working man. A fisherman. When Jesus walked by the Sea of Galilee and said, “Follow me,” James and his brother John left their nets and followed.
It’s easy to forget how radical that was. They didn’t ask for a plan. They didn’t negotiate the details.
They simply said yes to a holy unknown.
That’s the first echo of pilgrimage: Trusting the road, even when we don’t know where it leads.
“The call of Christ always begins with a step.”
A Zealous Disciple with a Human Heart
James was sometimes bold to a fault. He and his brother were nicknamed the “Sons of Thunder.” They wanted to call down fire on a Samaritan village. They jockeyed for places of honour beside Jesus in glory.
But Jesus never rejected them. He shaped their zeal into courage. He taught them that the way of greatness was service. That the path of power was the path of the cross.
James would later become the first of the apostles to be martyred. His witness was not just in what he preached—but in how fully he gave himself to the Gospel.
The Pilgrim Legacy of Santiago
Legend tells us that James’s remains were brought to the far northwest corner of Spain, where the great cathedral of Santiago de Compostela now stands.
For centuries, pilgrims have walked across Europe to reach that place—not for the stone alone, but for what it represents:
The call to follow Jesus, wherever He leads.
The courage to live out our faith, fully and fearlessly.
The humility to know that we are always being shaped by the journey.
“Not because we have arrived—but because we have walked.”
Walking in His Footsteps
As I prepare to walk this ancient road, I’m reminded that I am not the first. Countless others have walked before me—some with questions, some with prayers, some with sorrow, and some with gratitude.
And James? James walked it in his heart the day he dropped his net and followed Jesus.
So now I walk too. Not to earn something. Not to escape something. But to follow. To learn. To listen. To let the journey shape me more into the likeness of Christ.
The Invitation
You don’t have to walk the Camino to walk in the spirit of St. James.
You just have to be willing to say: “Yes, Lord. I will follow.”
Even when the road is unclear. Even when the journey is long. Even when you feel a little like a Son of Thunder yourself.
God will shape the rest.
“The road of the apostle becomes our own.”
Thanks for walking with me.
Buen Camino, Fr. Don+
A Pilgrim’s Prayer to St. James (Santiago)
O holy James, Apostle and friend of the Lord, you left your nets to follow Christ, not knowing where the road would lead — only trusting the One who called your name.
As I prepare to walk the road that bears your memory, pray for me, that I may walk it with purpose, with courage, and with joy.
Help me to lay down what is heavy, to welcome those I meet along the way, and to find Christ not just at the journey’s end, but in every step, every pause, every breath.
Walk beside me as I walk toward God. And when the path grows steep or the way grows dim, remind me that grace is always just ahead.
Santiago, pray for us pilgrims — that we may walk in faith and arrive in peace.
Amen.
A Blessing for Setting Out on the Road
May the road rise to meet you, and may each step draw you closer to the heart of Christ.
May your burdens be light, your pauses be prayer, and your companions be signs of grace.
May the path teach you what maps cannot. May you find beauty in the overlooked, strength in the silence, and joy in the simplicity of the walk.
And when you arrive — wherever that may be — may you find that Christ was walking with you all along.
“This is not just a long walk. It’s a sacred one.”
As the days count down and my pack grows lighter, one question has been sitting with me more and more:
How do I make this more than a hike? How do I walk the Camino — not just with my body — but with my soul?
Because let’s be honest: the Camino is a physical challenge. There will be early mornings, tired feet, steep climbs, and days where the end of the road seems far off.
But what I long for most is to walk a holy journey. Not just to complete the distance… But to be transformed by the road.
What Makes a Journey Holy?
A holy journey isn’t made by beautiful views or historical significance—though the Camino has plenty of both.
What makes it holy is intention.
It’s the quiet decision to walk with purpose. To look not just around, but within. To trust that God walks just as surely on dusty gravel as in cathedral aisles.
“Some sacred places have stone walls. Others are marked only by footsteps.”
The Sacred in the Ordinary
I don’t expect the skies to part or angels to appear.
But I do believe that God will be found— In the rhythm of walking. In the silence of the early morning. In a cup of water shared. In laughter with strangers who become friends.
Every step, every ache, every moment of stillness can become prayer—if I allow it.
The Invitation
So as I prepare to walk this ancient path, I’m choosing to walk it with a holy posture:
To listen more than I speak.
To see more than I scroll.
To bless each day—however messy or marvelous it may be.
You don’t need to walk the Camino to make your journey holy. Wherever you are—on foot, in ministry, or in the simple routines of daily life— You can choose to walk with reverence.
Because God is already on the road. And the road, when walked in faith, becomes sacred ground.
“Leave behind what no longer serves. Walk with what gives life.”
Thank you for journeying with me in spirit.
Buen Camino, Fr. Don+
A Pilgrim’s Rule of Life for the Camino
1. Walk with Purpose, Not Just Distance I will remember that I am not just covering ground, I am walking with God. Each step is part of a sacred journey.
2. Begin and End with Prayer I will begin each day with a short prayer for presence and peace, and end each day with gratitude—for what was given, and what was let go.
3. Keep Company with the Spirit Whether I walk alone or with others, I will remember that Christ is always walking with me.
4. Receive Every Encounter as Holy Every person I meet is a fellow pilgrim in some way. I will treat each encounter as a moment of grace.
5. Rest When Needed, Without Shame I will honour my body and spirit by taking breaks. Rest is not weakness—it is sacred.
6. Leave Space for Silence I will make room for quiet—no headphones, no noise—so I can listen for the still small voice of God.
7. Travel Light—in Spirit and in Pack I will release what no longer serves me: old wounds, heavy expectations, anxious striving. I will walk freely.
8. Keep a Grateful Heart I will practice gratitude for beauty, breath, food, kindness, and the sheer gift of the journey.
“Blessed are those whose strength is in you, in whose hearts are the highways to Zion.” —Psalm 84:5
A Reflection Guide
A Daily Practice for Pilgrimage and Preparation
At the Start of the Day
What is my intention for today’s walk?
Where might I need to slow down, listen, or let go?
Who or what will I carry in prayer today?
A Short Prayer to Begin:
“God of the road, walk with me today. Make my feet steady, my heart open, and my spirit grateful. Amen.”
While Walking (in silence)
What do I notice that I would normally pass by?
What is God drawing my attention to today?
What am I carrying that is becoming too heavy?
Silent Prompt:
“Speak, Lord, your servant is listening.” (1 Samuel 3:10)
At the End of the Day
What moments stand out from today’s walk?
Where did I experience grace?
What am I thankful for?
What do I need to release before tomorrow?
Night Prayer:
“Thank you, O God, for the steps I walked, the people I met, and the strength you gave. In your mercy, watch over my rest and guide me in the morning. Amen.”
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.
In the stillness, I hear things I miss in the motion.
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.
Sometimes the break is the blessing.
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.
