By Dr. Amy Fortney Parks, LPC, ACS

Alexandria, VA – My 7-year-old grandson understands distance one way.

“How long does it take in the car?”

So when he learned that a group of monks began walking in Texas and passed directly through his town near West Point, Georgia, on their way to Northern Virginia, his brain did what a 7-year-old brain does.

“They walked that?”

Yes. They did.

By the time they reached West Point, word had started to spread. Neighbors stepped outside. People followed their progress. A local veterinarian, a friend of my son’s family, even treated the monks’ dog. It was not a global headline yet. It was a small town paying attention.

And then they kept walking. State after state. Mile after mile.

By the time they reached Alexandria and walked down Washington Street, the story had grown. I stood outside in 25-degree weather holding a handmade sign that read, “Peace to you on every mile.”

Later, my grandson asked the question that mattered most.

“But why would they walk all that way?”

So I told him this.

They walked because sometimes you choose a hard thing on purpose. They walked to practice patience. They walked to make space to think and pray. They walked because moving slowly changes you in ways speeding never can.

A pilgrimage is not about getting somewhere faster. It is about becoming someone steadier.

When you walk that long, you surrender shortcuts. You take one step, then another. You feel the weather. You notice the ground beneath you. You stay with the journey instead of racing toward the ending.

From a brain science perspective, that rhythm matters. Repetitive walking regulates the nervous system. It lowers stress and strengthens the brain’s ability to reflect and make meaning. The body settles first. The mind follows.

In 2027, I will walk 80 miles of the Camino de Santiago in Spain. Not because I need a destination, but because I understand now what I was explaining to him. Some growth only happens at the pace of your own footsteps.

For families, that may be the quiet lesson. We can help our children see that the value is not only in arriving, but in who they are becoming along the way.

We live in a culture that prizes arrival. Grades. Trophies. Promotions. Applause. Children quickly learn to focus on the outcome.

But growth does not happen at highway speed. It happens in steady steps. It happens in the practice. It happens when no one is clapping.

In West Point, the walk felt neighborly. In Alexandria, it felt historic. The attention changed. The purpose did not.

The monks did not walk to be seen. They walked to become. And perhaps that is the kind of journey worth modeling, not just explaining.

Do you have a question about your family? Ask it here – https://bit.ly/3T0SFSm