Camino #7. Preparation is over and now we wait

Tomorrow I begin my seventh Camino de Santiago.

Each Camino is different. This time we will walk the Camino Inglés. The experiences may be familiar, but we never walk as the same person. This year I begin with gratitude, excitement, and, if I am honest, a little anxiety.

A few months after my sixth Camino in 2023, I experienced nearly a year of acute Achilles tendonitis. It was painful, frustrating, and a reminder that our bodies carry both memory and limitation. As I prepare for this journey, I have done what I can: new orthopedic shoes, careful planning, and a renewed commitment to listening to my body. Pilgrimage teaches humility. We control less than we think.

This Camino also comes after a season of deep grief. A year and a half ago, the Eaton Fire destroyed our home, our neighborhood, and much of the time since has been devoted to rebuilding, not only possessions and routines, but heart and spirit. Grief is its own pilgrimage. There are no shortcuts, only faithful steps forward. In some ways, this seventh Camino feels different from all the others because I do not walk it as the person I was before the fire. Yet pilgrimage has always taught me that loss and hope can travel together, and that God is found not only at the end of the journey, but walking beside us through it.

This year brings a special gift: Stephen will walk beside me once again for his third Camino. There is something sacred about sharing a road with someone you love, especially with what we've been through. The Camino reminds all of us that the journey of faith goes deeper and further when we realize that we don't walk alone. We walk with companions, and ultimately, we walk with God.

Before setting out on the Camino Inglés, I have another special joy this year. I will spend June 20–26 serving as chaplain at the Casa Anglicana and priest at the Igrexa de Santo Fiz in Santiago de Compostela. It is a privilege to welcome pilgrims from around the world as they arrive carrying stories of joy, grief, hope, and transformation. Many pilgrims arrive with tired feet and mysteries in their hearts, and I pray that I can be there for them.

As I begin Camino number seven, I do not know what revelations await. The Camino has taught me that the divine is often revealed not in dramatic moments, but in ordinary steps: shared meals, unexpected conversations, aching feet, and quiet prayers along the road. Like God appearing in the silent moments, God often appears on Camino when we sit and rest.

Join me for the next 18 days as I share my experiences with you again. 

Buen Camino!