Walks with Barry - Profoundly Simple: A Walk Reframed

Each day my walking route takes me through our neighborhood park. It is a lovely place, and in previous years would be bustling with people and activities from daylight until well into the night. This spring, there are no soccer games. The playground equipment is eerily quiet. The swings aren’t swinging. The slides aren’t sliding. The baseball diamond is perfectly groomed and sits lonely and unused in the sun. The life of the park is so different. And yet, it is still a beautiful place. Each day I see the guy who sits in a pavilion with both phone and computer plugged in and hard at work. I often see a man who, with much effort, walks the sidewalks with his crutch, determined to continue rehab from a stroke. I wave at the same young couples who are pushing strollers and herding kids on bikes and scooters. I see folk both older and younger than myself, all making eye contact and anxious to smile and wave; to make this “different” as pleasant as possible. “Different” is, well, different.

As the “stay at home” period has stretched into months, the art scene in my neighborhood has evolved. In the beginning, chalk art was everywhere, block after block. As the weeks have rolled by, that is becoming a rare sighting. In the early days, the messages were general and broad. In later weeks the words were more specific, speaking to people by name. The artist who lives in this house has moved to the next level. The text is faint, and I had to spend a few moments studying the work to understand what was going on. They had drawn two grids of boxes, both the same, side by side. The words over the one on the left read, “Reserved for Barbie and Friends”. The one on the right, “Reserved for Stuffed Animals”. Talk about a kid with a plan! I think we would probably get along quite well. As I continued down the street, I was taken with the idea that the artist was making plans. Their play was going to have a change of scenery. Their inside toys were stepping out out. They were mixing it u

From the beginning of my pandemic walks, this image has been a constant. It has appeared across the far-flung corners of my route. I have seen it with accompanying text in more than one language. It has been washed away in the rain, only to reappear the next day with the sunshine. I am not aware of the origin of this image, but it is ubiquitous; it seems to greet me wherever I walk. The rainbow takes me back to little tables and chairs and flannel board stories in the Sunday School classes of my childhood. One of the earliest Bible lessons still in my memory has the rainbow as the payoff. After Noah builds an Ark and after the waters subside, the rainbow appears as a sign of a promise. A promise from God, no less. When I was a boy, it was good to learn that God is a God of promises. As an adult still trying to come to terms with being called a “senior”, I find that thought even more comforting. God promises to be with me in all things. God promises to forgive me. God promises to love m

As some of you know, I am a person of routine. I like to fancy myself “disciplined” and “regimented”. Those who are around me most probably prefer terms like “compulsive” and “eccentric”. Be that as it may, I DO walk a certain route through the streets of my neighborhood in the same direction, every day. I know how many steps I’ll get in. I know how much time it will take me to arrive back at home. And I know that every so often I will find something child-related laying lost and alone on the same corner. Once it was a pacifier. Another time it was the world’s tiniest hoodie. This trip, I came upon a lone, solitary little pink sock. Only at this one corner have I ever found such items. I wonder what it is about this “Bermuda Triangle” of the area. Things get left behind. The scriptures call us to do things like “lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely” and to “forget what lies behind and strain forward to what lies ahead”. This little left-behind sock brought these ch

On one hand, life feels as if we are lost in the movie Ground Hog Day where we are stuck in one place and nothing changes. But as I walk the neighborhood each day, I am amazed at the changes I see. When the gyms first closed and I was forced to the streets for exercise, the lawns were just beginning to awake from the sleep of winter. Now they are lush and green with spring rains and warm sunshine. Lawn mowers hum on every block, every day. Flower beds then empty and bare, now explode with the full range of nature’s colors. Trees are full and bird song fills the air. Then I came upon this scene. Moving day in the midst of it all. I began to imagine the story behind the picture. Why were they moving? Was it a happy course of events that led to this moment, or was it a bitter pill to swallow? Where were these folk headed? Was their destination far away and exotic, or was it mundane? Who was coming to take their place? From where were the new occupants coming? And on and on and on. Life is

I didn’t even have to make it to the sidewalk on this day to be captured by this grouping of roses on one of my own rose bushes. The sunlight was at just the perfect angle and they literally glowed. I found myself drawn to them like Moses - someone commented that the two of us are looking more and more alike these days - was drawn to the bush that was ablaze but was not consumed. It did, if for just a Moment, seem like Holy ground. Roses capture our imagination. “My love is like a red, red rose.” “A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.” I am convinced that he had roses on his mind when Tennyson wrote, “If I had a flower for every time I thought of you, I could walk through my garden forever.” One of the songs from my childhood church referred to Jesus, the embodiment of God’s love, with the biblical image of the “ sweetest rose of Sharon.” I am going to take some time today to think about love, that gift synonymous with roses. Why not join me? Think about the people you love. T

These neighbors obviously go for detail in their art. There is a depiction of the now famous image of the virus. There are very unhappy looking normal cells. There is an admonition to keep smiling and to stay healthy and to stay inside. I appreciate how much is going on in this scene. But what caught my eye is the depiction, no doubt, of the child’s family; the human figures at the base of the drawing. It is as if the people the drawing represent are more than enough for the challenge. Even drawn in chalk on a sidewalk, they look so calm and at peace. I am struck by how this image of connection “steals the show”. To my eye, it is not the problem of Covid 19 that is the focus of the drawing. Indeed, it is the family. One thing I’m learning during this time is that it really matters where I put my focus. It REALLY matters. Where is your focus? We all have to deal with the challenge and the fallout from this crisis. But when we look at the busy drawing of our life, do we ONLY see the pro

Well, they almost got it right. The spirit was there. They showed up. The hard work was done. They ALMOST got it right. “You Rook” doesn’t quite carry the same energy as “You Rock!” As I walked away I couldn’t help but think about God and God’s Grace. So often we don’t get life just right. Oh, the spirit was there. We showed up. We put in the work. And we ALMOST got it right. But an ill- considered word, a selfish motive, a lack of compassion or understanding keeps us from experiencing the joy that comes from getting it all the way right. We know the difference, whether we like to admit it or not. The gap between “almost right” and exactly right can be minuscule or huge. Either way, it’s still almost. The Good News is that God takes our “almost right” and still uses us to be a blessing. God takes our “almost right” and feeds the hungry, gives shelter the homeless, and inspires hope in the hopeless. God takes our “almost right” and encourages folk in dire situations and circumstances. S

As I walked after a recent rain shower - okay, as I was caught IN a rain shower - I was disappointed to find only the dim shadows of what were once great works of sidewalk art. As I continued through my neighborhood, lost in thought, I suddenly stopped in my tracks. Did I really just see what I think I just saw? I turned around, backtracked half a block and saw that I had, indeed, walked through a wonderful scene. The sidewalk in front of one house was strewn with Red Vines. Yes, you read me correctly. Red Vines, “the licorice of choice for all candy lovers”. Those Red Vines. After spending an awkward moment wondering if these treats had been there longer than the window of the 5 second rule, I started thinking. I reflected on how my life has been a bit like that sidewalk. Sometimes sunny, sometimes rainy, but when I pay enough attention along the way, I can see that wonderful gifts have been randomly strewn all along my journey. The scriptures often speak of the value and power of loo

If you are “of a certain age” like me, you can’t see these words and not think of Monty Python. They immortalized the old song in a way only they could. So I was particularly intrigued by how my little neighbors, or even their parents, knew these words. I imagine they just knew the old song. Anyway, as we said where I grew up, “it got me to thinking”. The Psalmist writes, “On the glorious splendor of your majesty and in your wonderful works, I will meditate”. (145.5) When I struggle to find something for which to be thankful, when it seems my life is bereft of blessing, when I feel all alone, I need to reflect on where I am focusing my eyes and heart and mind. The old song, in its simplistic way, raises a good question: On what am I focused? The struggle is real. Our lives are all turned upside down, and some lives are at risk of being crushed by what is happening around us. God does not call us to pretend all is well or to lie about reality. God is with us in the struggle and God’s

As I walk this morning in the middle of April, I am reminded once again that our current situation has, somewhere along the way, changed from a sprint to a marathon. What we all hoped was to be a week or two of inconvenience is now moving toward summer. We are still prayerful for those who are already sick and for those who are falling ill. We grieve with those families who have lost loved ones and are unable to be together to mourn and remember. We continue on into what lies ahead. But we also should pause and embrace this little neighbor’s words of encouragement, “ You’re doing a great job”. Just take that in for a moment. In a job none of us signed up for and for which none of us had prepared, “you’re doing a great job”. You are still doing what you have to do. You are still loving others. You are still showing compassion. You are still faithful to God and the Church through news ways of participating and giving. You are still taking care of yourself and others. You are moving forw

On my walks I have seen many things that have inspired, challenged and touched me. My little neighbors have been speaking important words to me each day. And I am so grateful. On this day, I encountered a dinosaur. My first thought was that on this street lived a child who is so deeply concerned about the pandemic that they were thinking about our species going extinct! But then I realized that my neighbor was simply drawing what they were thinking about - dinosaurs. They still lived what they loved. Their imagination was still functioning in fine style. Their artistic skills were spot on in this depiction of a dinosaur. I walked away encouraged. What a blessing it was to catch a glimpse of “normal”. In the earliest years of the Church, followers of Jesus faced extreme ups and downs. For periods of time they were able to live and go about their business in relative peace. At other times, they were persecuted and oppressed beyond our imagination. Through it all, they persevered and endu

This gift reminds me that what happened on Sunday has never stopped happening. This year, more than ever before, we need to remember this. We need to BELIEVE this. The resurrection wasn’t a one day event. The resurrection is a forever event. We all have our “tombs” that would hold us back and keep us from walking into new life. We all have our days when the light goes dark, even in the middle of the day, and all seems lost. We all have had, or will have, a moment when we cry out, “ My God, why have you forsaken me?” That is the way life is. But resurrection is the way God is. Our story is not over. Our last chapter has not been written. God raised Jesus from the dead and through Jesus, God is always at work raising us to a deeper, more meaningful life. Let’s believe with each other. Let’s believe for each other. Let’s embrace everyday the Good News that He is Risen! Peace

As I walked the neighborhood late yesterday, hoping to get my miles in before the storm hit, I was struck by how much activity surrounded me. Each block seemed to have at least one house having a family Easter Egg hunt. People dressed up like it was, well, Easter, sitting on porches and watching their children as happy with their few found eggs as they would have been with fifty. Neighbors set up in lawn chairs across driveways from each other enjoying the afternoon and clearly relishing new conversations with new stories. Strollers and bikes and scooters and runners crossing back and forth from one side of the street to the other, thoughtful of others and quick to smile. One house that I pass each day is home to a little baby and a little toddler. Mom knows me by sight, and we wave and say hello each day. The entire family was sitting in the center of the lawn, surrounded by the discarded remains of looted plastic eggs, candy wrappers, toys and a small child in constant motion. I wave

This neighborhood artwork is elaborate. It is eye-catching. It pretty much says it all. “Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here, he is risen!” Peace.

On this Friday we call “Good”, we remember the day when Jesus was crucified. We remember how he made up his mind and headed to Jerusalem, knowing what awaited him there. We remember how, at every turn, he stayed true. We remember how, with his dying breath, he spoke truth and forgiveness. Yesterday when I passed a stretch of sidewalk that had been turned into an extensive game board by sidewalk chalk, my attention was captured by the simple instructions at the starting point. “Follow the line”. The children who worked on this knew that they could make the game as hard and as complicated as they dreamed if they had a line that went the distance from beginning to end. They knew anyone would end up in the right place if they just “follow the line”. Today we give thanks that Jesus chose to “followed the line” of God’s call in his life for our sakes and for the sake of the world. May we reflect on our own lives and commit ourselves anew to “follow the line” of his footsteps so that we end u

On this Maundy Thursday I think about this simple question offered up by a neighborhood artist: How can you encourage others? When reflecting on the events of this night of Holy Week, I am always struck with all Jesus did for the disciples. In the shadow of all that is coming, and coming fast, Jesus makes astounding choices. He leads in the Passover meal, and includes Judas who will betray him and Peter who will soon deny him. One more opportunity to encourage with the experience of God’s unconditional love. He offers a new commandment to remember him in the sharing of the bread and cup, one last opportunity to encourage them in the grief that was to come. Jesus wraps a towel around his waist and washes the feet of his followers, a powerful encouragement to be humble servants to one another and to the world. He goes to the garden to pray, a moment to find courage and focus for himself in this crucial moment and an encouragement for all that would follow him to put pray in the center of

How interesting to come upon this random message this morning on my walk. STOP. Was it a message that was begun but never finished? Was it the work of a young mom or dad pushed to the edge by kids with cabin fever, their verbal version of the painting, “The Scream”? Was it a line marked in the sand - or concrete - saying, “ you can ride your scooter to this point and no further? I’ll never know. But it struck me that this is Wednesday of Holy Week. Preachers and scholars have tried throughout the centuries to place certain events in Jesus’ life on each day of Holy Week. Wednesday is sometimes called “Silent Wednesday”. It seems that perhaps nothing of much significance happened on this middle of the week day. But I think perhaps the most important thing happened. Perhaps Jesus saw the STOP sign and spent the day preparing for the Thursday and Friday that lay ahead. Perhaps he fasted and prayed. Perhaps he reflected on the journey to which God had called him. Perhaps he spent time thin

Little did I know that between writing my Facebook devotional yesterday and my walk that this would happen! Baby George made his entrance into this crazy world. The neighbor even had a sign asking any passers by to wave to Baby George. A little corner of joy in the neighborhood. It doesn’t matter that I do not know the family. All that matters is that this house is celebrating a wonderful blessing. Isn’t it interesting that in trying times we don’t seem to focus so much on who the other might be. The common experience we share overrides the world’s lie that we are too different to live and serve together. Right now, for most of us, it seems life is about what others need, what good others are doing, what we can do for those that know the worst of this situation. Wouldn’t it be great if we never got over this effect of the pandemic? Wouldn’t it be great if when things get back to “normal”, we don’t go back to “normal”? What if we continued to think of the good of the community over our

On this Monday of Holy Week, I was drawn to this depiction of the solar system, drawn by an anonymous young artist. There are no words, but the image spoke volumes to me on my walk. God’s creation is vast and wondrous and beautiful. The story in Genesis tells us that God felt really good about how the whole creation thing turned out, saying “it is good”. Throughout countless ages the solar system has kept spinning, the planets in their places and their days and nights, though vastly different in length, coming and going as regular as cosmic clockwork. Life goes on. Even in these days of pandemic and sickness and death and fear, life is going on. Babies are born, birthdays and anniversaries pass, people fall in love and people do extraordinary kindnesses for others. The good and the bad. Life and death. Joy and sorrow. Courage and fear. It all keeps coming, it all keeps spinning. This week we call Holy is a microcosm of this reality of life. Highs and lows. Joy and sorrow. Life and deat

Today’s picture unfolds like the opening scene of the original Star Wars. I remember sitting in the theater back in the 70’s and the excitement reading those words brought to us. We were going to experience something the likes of which we had never seen. Well, this health crisis has brought to us an experience the likes of which we have never seen. And these words bring excitement as well. Especially those words hidden in the middle: “Just Be”. Let this difficult pressing of the “pause button” in so many areas of our lives give us a unique opportunity. Just be with God in new ways. Just be with others through compassion and prayer. Just be with yourself and get in touch with who you are, who you long to be, who you are feeling called to be. Hear the words of the Psalmist: “Be still and know that I am God.” Just be. Peace.

Today I am reminded that while being overwhelmed with the big things, and we all are dealing with BIG things these days, it is so easy to become blind to the little things that make our life the gift it is, even in the time of overwhelming big things. In recent days I have made connections with people I grew up with, went to school with, shared young years of fun with. I have had people send words of thanks for something I’ve done or tell me  they are praying for me or that I am loved. Melody’s little dog does not know anything is wrong in the world; she just knows we are around and that seems to be a good thing. My roses are blooming and the birds are singing. Each day I run across a new message on the sidewalk and have a focus, if only for a moment, for my mind that seems to be always on a dead run these days. What I find when I take time to enjoy the little things is this: the little things ARE the big things. As Jesus taught how to live an eternal life kind of life, he did not tell

On my walk I stumbled into a makeshift sanctuary, complete with stained glass. Peace. Love. Joy. The proclamation of what God is longing for all people everywhere to know in these difficult days. But if you are afraid, peace is hard to find. If you are isolated and alone, there may be moments when it is a challenge to feel loved. If you are thinking of someone facing surgery or death alone, if you are stressed about losing your job or busines s, joy can certainly feel elusive. In Philippians 4.8 we hear this word: “Finally, beloved, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is pleasing, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence and if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.” Let us make some time each day to stop, take a deep breath and “think about these things.” In doing so we might just find the peace, love and joy we long for deep in our souls. Peace. -Barry Hughes