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“You are always going to be exactly where God wants you to be.”

These are the words I have brought back from my Camino experience. Not even spoken to me directly, they struck my heart. Janet, my fellow pilgrim, shared these words with other pilgrims at a cafe stating that she often told them to her students back in Orlando when they would complain.

I, like many others, packed many lofty intentions with me in hopes of receiving clear, definable answers to what the Lord desires for my life. What's next, is there a change I need to make, a move, a deeper discernment of my vocation? An answer for the question I’ve come to dread at the holidays, “what’s new?” Her words, spoken late in the morning of our third and longest walking day, 17.8, which would actually be just over 19 miles according to my Strava, invited me to see that our being about six miles into our 19 is a bit like being 27 and single. There is a desire to be at mile 19, a desire for marriage, family, and a home.

And there is the reality that to get to mile 19 you have to keep walking steadily, seashells and yellow arrows as your guide, you could try to go your fastest and find yourself hurting, depleted, or unable to continue the next day, or you can pace yourself, stopping for a coffee and a tortilla, putting your feet up for a few and chatting with the pilgrims you find along the way. The impatience in me wants to rush to do whatever it is that I can to get to that metaphorical 19th mile. If I pray more, meet more people, work on myself, then maybe I’ll get it. And at what cost? Being worn out from trying to control things, feeling hurt and frustrated when my plans inevitably aren’t right, or worst of all, I lose the hope of good things to come.

I’d miss the group of pilgrims we met because they were singing, “Teenage Dirtbag” who we saw everyday. Or the dog who looked like a mop. Or the musicians playing in the middle of the woods creating an almost cinematic walking experience. If I focused so much on the future of my life in Kentucky, I can’t imagine the gifts of the present I’d miss.

Now these aren’t the profound religious experiences and answers I anticipated having on the Camino, but they are what shapes what I bring back. A new perspective, one that keeps me present to the beauty and the simplicity of life. I am where I am supposed to be, and that is good. Nothing has to be new or to change. I am on my way with the Lord as my guide instead of seashells, and I trust He will lead me on a path full of interesting people, things that make me smile, and a beautiful soundtrack of my life.

Buen Camino!