Zero.

It’s a number that usually indicates absence. But for me, at the end of my Camino, the number zero represented a fullness I had never experienced before in my life. It was not only the end of a long and arduous journey, it was also the beginning of a new walk for me – the uniting of my own life’s pilgrimage and the Camino de Santiago beyond the hills (or mountains!) of Spain.

When I started the adventure almost a week prior, the tall Camino markers read 114 km to Santiago. In true newbie zeal, I’m pretty sure I stopped to take a picture with that first route marker. (Okay. Maybe I stopped for the first twenty markers!) Pilgrims on their 23rd day walking from Saint Jean chuckled as they walked past me, saying, “That energy! We need to remember that energy!” I was like a kid in a candy shop. I was on the Camino de Santiago de Compostela and wasn’t about to let the experience escape my eye – or my camera.

While the zeal for the markers definitely escaped my notice in the miles to come (when all I wanted to see was the sign of civilization or a patch of flat ground!) my interest in these route markers and the knowledge of my place on the map only increased. Each one was designed specifically for the region of Galacia and contained a scallop shell (the official symbol of the Camino), a yellow arrow pointing the direction of the route, and the number of kilometers left to reach Santiago. 

The route markers were positioned at almost every major roadway crossing. When I saw one, I knew that I was on the right track. And I also knew I wasn’t alone. Millions of pilgrims had the same steps before me for hundreds of years. And millions of pilgrims behind me were preparing to take these same steps, still yet to come.

But no matter where I was in the journey, the route markers that came into sight were like a little high-fives from the ancient trail – reminders of just how far I had walked and of how much more I still had to go.

Sometimes that number was a surprise. “Wow! We’re in the 60’s now? Only 60 kilometers left until Santiago? Let’s DO this thing!”

Other times, that number was a surprise in a different way, “I’ve been walking for an hour and I’ve only gone 1.5 kilometers? Didn’t I just see that tree awhile ago? Wait. Am I walking in circles?… Am I still in Spain?”

As I approached Santiago, and noticed the single digit countdown, my heart battled the excitement of nearing the prize with the sadness of leaving behind more than a roadway, but a way of life.

I had learned to embrace the journey (a story for another time!) and every single experience that came with each step. From the minute I began counting down from 114, I had accepted an invitation to surrender my will and my way to The Way, physically, emotionally, and spiritually. To me, each route marker on the Camino de Santiago was a link to the past, present, and the future.  As numbers of the kilometers decreased, my love for them and the lessons learned on the Way increased.

Zero.

It was the official “end” to my walking. But for me, it was a “reset” to the way I walk through my own life. Because I don’t know about you, but I do not want to mindlessly count down the kilometers of each day in hast, desperation, or ignorance. No way!

I want to look ahead of me and know that there’s a Santiago – a Heaven – waiting for me at the end.

I want to look behind me and see a mountain range of little victories over sufferings endured.

I want to look before me and see the here and the now, appreciating this moment as an valuable gift that will never come my way again.

Instead of counting kilometers, I want to count graces from God, virtues learned, and lessons practiced.

My life’s Camino reset at zero on that day in late June with 114 kilometers behind me. Ahead of me lies a journey of uncounted kilometers  – however many He sees fit. May I walk them in the same stride as I did on the Camino de Santiago.