We Were Never Meant to Walk Alone

We Were Never Meant to Walk Alone
36” · 48” Acrylic and oil on canvas

Because They Had Less

We met a pilgrim named Beau who was walking with his wife and their seventeen-year-old son.

They had been covering long distances and feeling strong—until suddenly, they were not.

Beau suffered a severe flare-up of gout. By the time they reached their albergue one evening, he was in terrible pain. He struggled up the stairs to their room and could barely move.

His wife went downstairs to the café and asked if she could take dinner up to him.

“That is not an option,” the hospitalero told her. “He must come down and eat in the café.”

She was tired and worried. As she climbed the stairs to help Beau, she thought, I should have carried more food.

Together, she and their son helped him down to the café.

The moment the hospitalero saw Beau, his firmness disappeared.

“Oh, no! What happened? What is wrong?”

In broken Spanish, they tried to explain the gout and the pain in Beau’s foot.

Then the hospitalero lived fully into the meaning of his name.

He welcomed them to the table and fed them. While they ate, he called a local doctor. The doctor arrived with a pharmacist and someone who could translate.

No one asked for payment.

Had their packs been full, heavy with provisions intended to protect them, they might have remained upstairs, alone in their suffering.

They would have eaten.

But they would have remained unseen.

Instead, their need became an opening.

Because they had less, they received more.

Because they could not carry everything, they were carried.

At a simple table in a small Spanish village, they received far more than dinner or medicine. They received the care of strangers who saw their need and responded as though they belonged to one another.

There, they tasted something more delicious than bread.

They tasted trust.

As their packs grew lighter, something else began to fill the empty space—not more possessions, but gifts:

Gratitude that catches in the throat.

Humility that softens the heart.

And the wisdom that we were never meant to walk this road alone.

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!

Camino Collage: days 1-10

Days 1-5. Concertina book. Collage and stamps collected along the Camino de Santiago, Spain.
Days 6-10. Concertina book. Collage and stamps collected along the Camino de Santiago, Spain.

I am walking the Camino de Santiago with my family. It is a 500 mile pilgrimage. We started in France, and will walk to Santiago de Compostela and hopefully onto Finesterre – the end of the earth. We are currently in the Rioja region of Spain, we walk through vineyards on the same route pilgrims have walked for over 1,000 years.

Instead of making many small paintings along the way, I wanted to capture THE WAY itself. I am making a collage of all the bits and pieces I collect as I go. The lines represent the many paths of many pilgrims. We walk with friends and the we loose track of them, sometimes we meet up again a few towns later. The lines of collage weave in and out to represent the many people from all over the world making their way to Santiago. The lines of collage also (loosely) represent the topography and many hills. When you start walking you are issued a passport, and you collect stamps from places where you stop to rest or eat along the way. Those stamps are also added into my collage.

On the back side of my concertina book (not yet pictured) are notes of the many people and stories we are gathering as we walk.