This past Sunday I took a long walk in a park near my home. The path I followed was well paved and smooth. The sun shone intermittently through passing grayish winter clouds and the breeze blew in gusts of cold shrill air. I pulled the knit cap down over my ears and resolved to make at least one pass of the trail as it wound its way around the outer rim of the park. My thoughts were a mixture of prayerful intention and philosophical debate over whether or not God had a purpose for me on this day of rest. I cannot remember a specific reply, but I remember thinking that perhaps the message was woven in the images of pine trees, asphalt and tiny blades of grass standing dormant along the path.And then it came to me through the inscription sand blasted into a landscaping stone near a park bench and bird feeder station. “I believe a leaf of grass is no less than the journey- work of the stars”- Walt Whitman. How insignificant I felt at the beginning of my trek now became oblivious to the fact that even a blade of grass is celebrated by our creator God. That each circuit of the earth brings new sight and greater meaning just blows my mind. And I thought I was living in a fog bank where the way is obscured and tomorrow passes without much meaning. Here, on this rock reminds me to look again and see what I did not see before, that sight is merely subjective unless you look for something else behind the image.
And so I chose to make another round about the path; to see something new the second time through. So, instead of seeing concrete and asphalt, fallen tree limbs and blades of grass peeking through remnants of melting snow, I saw a herd of deer across the road from the park and wild turkeys strutting across a barren farmer’s field. And upon another passing I found empty plastic water bottles and trash left behind to blow aimlessly in the winter breezes. A golf ball lay beside the path also and I picked it up; bouncing it upon the concrete as I walked. There really was more to this time alone than what a mere first glance might employ.
Upon a third passing I came across a gentleman out walking in the opposite direction to myself. He stopped briefly and commented on the numerous deer foraging in the field perhaps less than hundred and fifty yards from where we stood. The turkey, now silhouetted on a gentle rise in the middle of the field looked enormous and out of place. I could not help wondering how they could resist the natural instinct to stay under cover of the woods away from predators. Then, I realized, “they must know they are safe.” What a thought knowing all the cares and concerns I have had over the last few months being laid off from my job. If I could just fathom the watchful eye of God keeping me safe, then I could walk wild in the fields just as the deer and wild turkey were doing across the road. I just had to get off the path for a while and let God show the way. Amen.
