Learning to live with less is one theme often cited as a lesson learned by walkers of the Camino de Santiago. I agree. It is pretty amazing, and freeing, to live 30+ days with only what fits into a pack on your back. Who knew?

Well, I kind of knew. After my husband died in 2016, I moved halfway across the country, taking with me only what fit into my car – a 4-door Sonata – and a few boxes I had shipped ahead. It’s not so drastic really. I was going to be living with friends and their home had everything I would need. Still, it was a big deal to let go of my lifetime accumulation of belongings.

Most of it I gave away to friends. Some of it I sold in a yard sale. Or shall I say a friend sold for me in a yard sale. She organized and priced everything and took care of the money. That was good because as sales progressed throughout the day I became more and more emotional.

At one point I was walking through my dining room where I saw an elderly Latina holding my white lace tablecloth, stretching it from the end of one arm to the other, nodding her head in approval.  “Noooooo!” I wanted to scream and yank it out of her hands. Instead, I ran to the back bedroom and took a deep breath as tears filled my eyes. The magnitude of it all hit me hard. All of my precious treasures. Not mine anymore.

“You don’t even have a table,” the Lord said to me, nudging me out of my despair. The humor, and the irony, shifted my attention. I laughed and I realized that this woman will take that tablecloth and cover her table. Family and friends will comment and admire it and she will beam with pride. It will have a good home where it is valued and appreciated. It’s a good thing. That was a turning point for me and I was able to let go completely. And I was able to do it again a few years later as I traveled cross country once more, this time with even less.

Yes, it really is very liberating to learn how little we do need. Sometimes it helps us to realign our life priorities, to recognize what is important and what is not. Maybe we learn to appreciate objects without having to own them, just like we appreciate a rippling stream cooling tired feet. It doesn’t have to be my stream. In the end, I can trust that I will have what I need when I need it. I think that’s an extension of the Camino lesson of packing light.  It couples with faith in knowing that I will be provided with what I need. That was experienced on the Camino. And it is true even after the Camino, . . . today and every day.