
One afternoon on the Camino, we came to the base of a long hill.
It was late and it was hot—
the kind of heat that slows your steps and stretches the hills taller than they are.
At the side of the path, a woman sprawled on the ground, unable to continue. One pilgrim glanced at her, crossed to the other side of the road, and kept walking. A couple stopped and asked if she needed anything. “No,” she said, the way we often do when accepting help feels harder than enduring the pain alone.
Then my friend Sara arrived.
She did not stand above the woman and ask another question. She set down her pack and sat beside her. “What are we dealing with?” she asked. The woman explained that her leg had seized with a painful cramp and that she could go no farther. Sara smiled gently. “I’m good at massage,” she said, “and I just bought some oil from a women’s cooperative. May I try to work it out?”
This time, the woman said yes.
Slowly and patiently, Sara massaged the cramped muscle until the pain began to ease. Little by little, movement returned. Then the two women stood.
Three pilgrims climbed the hill together.
As I watched them walk, I recognized the parable of the Good Samaritan,
not told in a church, but written in sweat, road dust, and kindness.
Compassion did not announce itself.
It simply sat down.
The quiet miracle was not only that Sara stopped. It was also that the injured woman found the courage to receive what was offered. Along the road, may we be the ones who notice. The ones who stop. The ones who sit beside another person in pain.
And when we are the ones lying at the foot of the hill, may we also find the grace to say yes.
I’m so excited to invite you to the opening of When the Road Becomes Prayer: Paintings from the Camino de Santiago. This exhibition brings together paintings and stories inspired by walking the Camino with my family—what we carried, what we received, and what the road taught us along the way. There are many more paintings and stories to share! Please join me for the opening and artist reception Sunday, September 27 at 2:00 PM at St. Matthew’s Cathedral in Dallas. I would love to see you there!
What a lovely pairing of your art and prose!!!!!
grace+peace, Elizabeth