Led & Held Through Grief to the Camino

by Francine Parling | Maple Grove, MN

Though I didn’t know it then, my Camino began on July 13, 2025, when I was handed divorce papers and my life splintered.

There’s a saying that when one door closes, another opens; often not mentioned is the hell in the hallway between those two doors. For the past year, that hallway is where I lived.

While journaling through grief at my kitchen table late one night, I saw the Infant Jesus of Prague in His red mantle, bending over to wrap His arms around me. For a moment, I was simply held. He became my companion on a path I neither wanted nor would have chosen.

That fall, I started adult Catholic confirmation classes. I chose Helena and Mary Magdalene as my Confirmation names. Saint Helena, patroness of converts, divorced women, and new discoveries seemed to suit my recalibrating life. Mary Magdalene, patroness of women and penitents, felt equally befitting.

Friends teased that I was living my own middle-aged Eat, Pray, Love story. Mine would involve Spanish DoorDash and private rooms with single beds. 

This was the very first trip I had ever planned myself. Over eight months, I chose the route, gathered gear, and in June, flew to Baiona, Spain, with an Infant Jesus of Prague chaplet tucked into my backpack. 

The night before I set out on the Camino Portugués coastal route, I was terrified. The next morning, I walked anyway. Nine days later, I reached Santiago de Compostela, gratefully blister-free, and received my Compostela. 

The next day, I returned to the busy cathedral for the Abrazo al Apóstol. Inside, disoriented by the crowds, I climbed a set of stairs to reset. At the top, I noticed an offering box outside a small chapel: Niño Jesús de Praga.

Behind glass stood the Infant Jesus, crowned in white and gold, one hand raised in blessing. There in the Capilla de la Corticela was my companion who had embraced me when the life I knew shattered. For that moment, I was simply held. 

Someone once told me that trust is a deeper vibration of faith: faith lives in the mind; trust lives in the body. I lived this on the Camino when my mind was paralyzed by doubt, but my feet still followed the next yellow arrow.

I went to Spain believing I was beginning my Camino. Only later did I understand that its gifts and lessons had begun long before.