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+

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.

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.

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.

Amen.

Thanks for walking gently with me.

Buen Camino,
Fr. Don+

“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.

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.

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.

Amen.

Thanks for walking alongside me in spirit.

Buen Camino,
Fr. Don+

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.

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.

Amen.

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.

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?

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.

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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.

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.

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.

Amen.

Thanks for journeying with me.

Buen Camino,
Fr. Don+