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.
Some folks will walk with you for miles. SOme will join for only a short while. All of them matter.
As I prepare for the Camino de Santiago, I’ve been walking more at home — on quiet local trails, through town, along rivers and wooded paths.
And something beautiful keeps happening.
I keep meeting people.
Some stop to chat. Others smile in passing. A few become brief companions on the road — a dog walker, a fellow hiker, someone who just needed to talk that day.
And I’m beginning to understand something that seasoned pilgrims say all the time:
The Camino isn’t just about where you’re going. It’s about who you meet along the way.
A Ministry of Presence
Not every encounter will be deep. Some will be silent. Some will be frustrating, others deeply moving. But each one is part of the story.
When Jesus walked the roads of Galilee, people interrupted him constantly. He didn’t avoid them — He met them, listened, healed, blessed.
That’s part of what I want to bring to the Camino. Not just a destination mindset, but a pilgrim’s heart — open to surprise, interruption, and shared humanity.
And that begins here, not just in Spain. Because even on our local trails, sidewalks, and parking lots, God is placing people in our path.
Every encounter is a chance to practice presence.
Hospitality, On Foot
There’s a kind of hospitality that happens when you walk. You start to share space — both literal space and spiritual space — with others who are also moving through something.
A shared nod. A laugh about the weather. A deep conversation with someone you may never see again.
This, too, is grace.
The Invitation
Whether we’re walking through neighbourhoods or navigating ancient trails, the invitation is the same:
Be present. Be open. Be kind.
You never know who you’ll meet — or how God might speak through them.
And perhaps even more importantly: you never know who might need your kindness on their own walk.
Even the briefest companionship can become holy.
As I prepare to walk the Camino, I’ll keep practicing that presence here at home—one trail, one smile, one sacred encounter at a time.
Thanks for walking with me.
Buen Camino, Fr. Don+
A Pilgrim’s Blessing for the People We Meet
Gracious God, You have made us for connection, and you place people in our path not by chance but by grace.
Bless those who walk beside us— for a moment or for many miles.
Bless the silent ones, whose presence is steady and kind. Bless the joyful ones, who remind us to laugh and be light. Bless the burdened ones, who carry more than their faces show.
And when we are the ones who are tired, or unsure, send someone to walk beside us— someone to offer kindness without condition.
Teach us to see each encounter as holy, each face as bearing your image, and each shared step as a prayer.
In every meeting, may we honour your presence. In every goodbye, may we leave behind blessing. And in every mile, may we walk humbly with open hearts.
In the name of the One who walks with us always— Christ our Companion, our Way, and our Peace.
As I continue preparing for the Camino, I’ve been thinking a lot about pace.
Not speed. Not performance. But something deeper.
Because I’m learning that when you walk slowly — on purpose — something sacred begins to happen.
Letting the Walk Become Prayer
We often think of prayer as something we do with words. A posture. A time of day. A certain kind of quiet.
But walking — especially walking slowly — can become prayer too.
With each step, the rhythm of the body begins to still the mind. The noise quiets. The heart opens. You begin to notice again — what’s around you, what’s within you, and what God might be whispering.
It’s not about arriving. It’s about being present.
Slowing down makes space for wonder.
Slowness is Not a Flaw—It’s a Gift
In a world that moves at breakneck speed, slowness can feel like failure. But on the Camino, slowness is how we listen. It’s how we learn to pray with our feet. And it’s often how we discover we’re not walking alone.
The road becomes a companion. The silence becomes a conversation. And the Spirit? She’s never far.
Walking with Intention, Not Urgency
As I prepare for the Camino, I’m resisting the urge to treat it like a race or a checklist. I want to walk slowly enough to:
Greet those I pass with kindness
Pause to notice birdsong or bell towers
Say a prayer for someone I’m carrying in my heart
And perhaps most importantly—let God catch up with me
Some prayers are spoken. Some are simply walked.
The Invitation
Wherever you are — whether it’s a forest trail, a city sidewalk, or a kitchen floor — try walking slowly for a few minutes today.
Let it be a prayer. No agenda. No hurry. Just presence.
Because God walks slowly, too. And sometimes the holiest thing we can do is… just slow down enough to notice.
Thank you for sharing the journey with me.
Buen Camino, Fr. Don+
A Prayer for Walking Slowly
God of still places and gentle paths, teach me to walk slowly today.
Not to fall behind, but to fall in step with the rhythm of your grace.
Help me notice what I would rush past. Let me hear the quiet things — the bird call, the breath, the voice within.
In my walking, make space for gratitude. In each step, make room for prayer. And in every pause, let me meet you again.
You never hurry, Lord. So help me not to miss you in my own haste.
Amen.
“The Slow Walk”
Set aside 10–15 minutes for a short, deliberate walk — whether in your neighbourhood, a park, or even indoors.
Before you begin, take a deep breath and invite God into the walk.
As you walk, slow your pace intentionally. Walk just a bit slower than feels “normal.”
Don’t try to think about anything. Just notice:
What do you hear?
What do you see that you might otherwise miss?
What sensations arise in your body?
If a person or prayer comes to mind, offer it quietly.
At the end, pause. Take one more breath. And offer thanks—for the path, the breath, and the time.
Try this once a week or any time you feel the urge to rush through your day.
“We walk by miracles every day. Most of them don’t shout.”
One of the gifts of preparing to walk the Camino de Santiago has been learning to walk slowly—on purpose. Not just to build endurance or break in boots, but to actually notice where I am.
And here’s what I’ve been finding: There’s so much beauty around us that we usually miss.
A wildflower growing between two cracks in the pavement. The way the river catches morning light. A tree that’s been there longer than I’ve been alive, patiently holding its place in the world.
“This wasn’t new. I had just never really seen it before.”
I’ve walked these local trails many times. But when I slow down — when I walk like a pilgrim instead of a commuter—everything changes.
There’s a different kind of seeing that opens up. Not just with the eyes, but with the heart.
It’s as if God has been leaving gentle breadcrumbs of beauty all around, whispering: “You’re not alone. I’m here too.”
The Gift of Noticing
One of the things I’m learning—even before I set foot in Spain — is that noticing is a spiritual discipline.
It takes intention. It takes stillness. And sometimes, it takes stepping off the trail just to sit and be amazed for a minute.
“I sat down just to tie my boot. I stayed to hear the wind sing through the leaves.”
When I finally begin walking the Camino next month, I know there will be breathtaking views—cathedrals, mountaintops, sunrises in ancient villages.
But I’m just as committed to noticing the small things: A smile from a stranger. A bird in a fountain. The quiet presence of God in the dust and stones.
The Invitation
So as I prepare for the Camino, I’m practicing the art of holy noticing. And I invite you to join me.
Today — wherever you are — take a moment to stop. Look at something you’d usually rush past. Let it speak. Let it still you. Let it bless you.
Because beauty is everywhere. And God is in the details.
“There’s no such thing as ordinary ground when you’re walking with open eyes.”
Thanks for journeying with me in spirit. I’ll keep walking slowly—and noticing.
As the days grow shorter before departure, my prayers grow longer. They stretch across names and needs. They linger in the silence of early morning. They rise up with each footstep on the Humber Trail.
Because the Camino — at its heart — is not a holiday. It is a prayer on foot.
And that has me asking: Who shall I carry with me in prayer? What will I pray for as I walk?
A Pilgrimage of Intercession
Since announcing that I would be walking the Camino de Santiago, people have quietly, and sometimes tearfully, asked: “Would you pray for me?”
Yes. Yes, I will.
I will carry their names — your names — in my heart and in my pack. I will walk not alone, but as part of the great company of saints and seekers whose burdens I now help shoulder in prayer.
I will pray for:
The weary
The grieving
The hopeful and the heartbroken
The Church—at its best and at its most bewildered
This fragile world
Those who walk with heavy steps and those who long to walk again
These are the stones I carry. Each name a weight. Each name a blessing.”
Prayer That Moves With You
Not all prayers will be formal. Some will be whispered in the rustle of eucalyptus leaves. Some will rise with the sound of boots on gravel. Some will take the shape of gratitude, or tears, or laughter shared at a table.
And some prayers, I trust, will be prayed for me, by others — friends, family, parishioners — back home. That, too, is the body of Christ at work.
A Quiet Invitation
If you would like to be remembered in prayer along the Camino, please know this:
You already are.
But if there is something or someone you’d like me to pray for specifically, you are welcome to send me a note, quietly and confidentially.
Your name — or theirs — may be written on a slip of paper and placed in my pocket. Or in my journal. Or simply carried in memory and love with each step I take.
“For every step, a prayer. For every prayer, a step closer to grace.”
The Prayer of the Pilgrim
I will not have all the right words. But I will have presence. I will have silence. I will have the rhythm of walking to shape my intercessions, and the open road to remind me that grace is always ahead of us.
And so, I go. Praying as I walk. Walking as I pray. Trusting that every name I carry is known already to the One who walks beside us all.
There’s something almost comic about the idea of being fully prepared for the Camino.
I’ve read the guides. Broken in the boots. Weighed the pack (again). Practiced with poles. And still—there’s this quiet truth whispering underneath it all:
You’re never really ready. Not completely.
And maybe that’s the point.
Readiness is Not Perfection
There’s a part of me — perhaps the part that loves a good checklist — that wants everything to be polished before I go:
No lingering questions
No unspoken doubts
No spiritual cobwebs in the corners
But what I’m discovering as August 3rd approaches is that pilgrimage doesn’t wait for perfection. It only asks for willingness.
God doesn’t need you to be perfect. Just present.
The God of the Not-Yet-Packed
The Hebrew Scriptures tell us that the Israelites wandered for forty years — carrying only what they could, trusting manna would come.
Jesus sent the disciples out two by two with hardly anything at all — no purse, no bag, no sandals. Just trust.
And still, I find myself fussing over what kind of soap to bring.
But God is not the God of the perfectly packed. God is the God of the pilgrim. The walker. The one who dares to say, “Here I am, Lord. Send me.”
Even if my socks are mismatched and my heart is a little cluttered.
A Spiritual Work-in-Progress
Part of my preparation now is letting go of the illusion that I need to arrive in Spain as some kind of polished priest with a soul ready to receive great revelations.
Instead, I’m choosing to arrive as I am: A bit tired. A bit hopeful. A bit unready—and okay with that.
Because the road itself will do the work. The Spirit will speak on the trail. And grace… well, grace always meets us on the move.
Not perfect. But ready enough to begin
Come Along the Way
So if you’re reading this and feeling like your own journey — spiritual or otherwise — is messy or uncertain, take heart.
God walks with unfinished people.
And so do I.
I’ll be blogging along the Camino starting August 3rd. You can walk with me, pray with me, and maybe find your own invitation to step into the unknown at:
