Vacations are meant to be a break — but how often do we lug our stress along with us, hidden inside heavy suitcases? The summer getaway, intended to refresh body and spirit, can quietly turn into a burdened caravan of “just in case” outfits and backup chargers. There’s a better way, and it starts with your luggage.
Packing light isn’t just a clever travel hack. It’s a small but meaningful invitation to rest from our attachment to stuff. In the words of the Catechism, “The Lord grieves over the rich … because their abundance of goods is an obstacle to entering the Kingdom” (CCC 2547).
While we may not consider ourselves wealthy in the biblical sense, our suitcases sometimes tell another story.
Modern travel tempts us to over-prepare, to anticipate every inconvenience, and to solve our discomfort with more things. But what if the discomfort is part of the grace? What if we could let go, not recklessly, but deliberately — and discover that less really is enough?
The key to packing light isn’t about risking imprudence or sacrificing dignity. It’s about tuning into a deeper freedom. Bring what you truly need, and then stop. A few versatile outfits, one good pair of shoes, a compact version of your prayer routine — these are more than enough for a week away. And for those traveling with family, packing light becomes an act of mercy. Fewer bags mean fewer decisions, fewer lost items, fewer meltdowns in airport queues.
In a world that praises accumulation and equates preparation with control, traveling lightly becomes a quiet spiritual act. It reminds us that we are not what we own, and that we can live — joyfully — without dragging our entire domestic inventory behind us. Jesus sent his disciples out with almost nothing, not as a test, but to teach them trust. They learned that hospitality, providence, and peace aren’t things we pack — they’re things we receive.
Choosing to bring less also frees us to receive more. More time to sit still. More room to notice beauty. More capacity for conversation, prayer, and the unexpected joys of the moment. When we’re not weighed down by gear, we’re more present to people — and to God.
This doesn’t mean adopting a minimalist identity or turning travel into a spiritual challenge. It just means being more intentional. One bag. One toothbrush. One heart, ready to be renewed. After all, isn’t that what vacation is for?
So as you prepare for your next trip, consider starting with the suitcase. Leave space in it — not just for souvenirs, but for grace. Because when you travel light, you may discover that God’s gifts are already packed, and waiting.
