Walks with Barry - Profoundly Simple: A Walk Reframed

The sun had not been up long enough to convince this lamp that its work was done. It was still ablaze, warding off the shadows and keeping one little corner of the world safe. I have never noticed this lamp to be burning on any other morning of my everyday walks. That must be why it captured my attention. In all honesty, I had never even noticed there was a lamp there at all. I hadn’t noticed because I’d never walked by the lamp when it was doing what a lamp is meant to do; I had never seen the lamp shine. But here it stood, in all of its glory. It seems to me that this is true of us as well. When we are where we should be, doing what we are meant to do, our lives shine. Those who pass through our lives notice, they can’t help themselves. We know what a rare and beautiful thing it is to bump into one who, by being who they are, is warding off the shadows. We can ward of the shadows by shining the light of compassion into a hurting world. We can shine hope into a struggling world by bei

As the heat has blazed and the summer has sped past, so much of the color has been washed from the neighborhood. The flowers of summer have passed and it is still too hot to plant for Fall, so the streets seem a little drab and dreary. I suppose that is why this little flower bed stood out as I walked down this street. It seemed as if I had discovered the last flower standing. I found myself realizing how much of life I take for granted. The flowers that were so beautiful that they caught my eye each morning as these walks began were soon going unnoticed. These streets that had produced numerous photo opportunities day after day began to seem mundane. My vision was not quite as sharp as when I began. We can often do the same with the blessings of our everyday life. People who are closest to us can can go unseen. A warm, cool, dry home is taken for granted. Appreciation for the good work we are blessed to have is replaced by a sense of entitlement. Being of sound health becomes a given.

This tree speaks one word in my imagination each day as I pass - strength. This massive oak seems solid and unmovable, the branches rising and spreading out across the entire front yard of the home. It seems to me a mountain, a sign of permanence in a world that changes so very quickly. I find that as these pandemic days continue to add up, I look forward to making the turn that leads me to this tree. I need to find in my life what it represents through its own life. “Be strong”. “Stay strong”. Words that are easy to say, yet difficult to achieve at times along our journey. We can find strength in many places. To believe in a loving God who is with us, especially in our struggles, can provide great strength. The legacy within us of women and men who lived strong lives before us as we grew into our own lives can inspire when times are difficult. We may find strength in the faces of those who look to us for strength of their own. And, sometimes, strength arrives as a gift in such a way

  My walk began today as I strolled down my own driveway and saw the yard sign provided by my church. I love the colorful background taken from the stained glass window over the chancel in our sanctuary. I love the idea that we are, though apart during COVID, “believing together”. Most of all, I love all the faces which flood my mind every time I see this sign. Believing together. We are believing together that this, too, shall pass and we will be together again. We are believing together that God is with us. We are believing together that it matters who we are and how we live. It is a good practice and discipline to, from time to time, stop and ask ourselves just what it is that we believe. This is different than stating our opinion on every little thing or defending a particular agenda. To ask ourselves what it is that we believe is to get in touch with who we are at our core; to get in touch with those values that should determine all our opinions and agendas, whether or not we con

  This is a house I look forward to passing each day. It is beautiful, and a beautiful young family lives there. I sometimes get to wave to the young mother as she sits on the porch with her baby in her arms and her toddler always near. It is idyllic. And then the young couple added the perfect final touch. One day this swing appeared. Each day I think to myself that I have seen few things as inviting as this swing. First of all, it is a swing. What more do you need? Second, the pennants beckon the passersby to join a party, to set things in motion. The sprawling oak from which it hangs offers shade and a sense of security. One day, I tell myself, I will walk right up and enjoy a relaxing moment or two. When I was a boy, we had a swing set and tall slide In our yard. I cannot begin to count the hours I spent swinging in those swings. When there was no one around to play with, I could swing away an afternoon. When I had a friend over, we would compete to see who could swing the highest

  Sometimes on my daily walk I am lucky enough to find myself in that magical moment between day and night. And on those days, sometimes the moment happens when no car is driving past and no loaded truck heading to a busy day of labor is rattling along the street beside me. Sometimes there are no other walkers within sight. On those days, in that moment, I can feel as if there is nothing between myself and the universe, between myself and God. As the days of my life seem to add up with ever- increasing speed, I have come to realize that in those moments I can feel a wide range of emotion. If I am weary and discouraged, the moment may send me down a path of regret or disappointment. I see the darkness and think of all that could have been but never was. I am caught up in the gap between who I am and all I intended to be. My mind focuses on all I have lost; people, dreams and opportunities. But on other days, in that magical moment, I see the light. My day begins with a feeling of awe an

  On today’s morning walk I came across this little chest of drawers. It has been well used, clearly having served its purpose. It has been moved to the curb; I imagine the owner growing up and moving on. It was interesting to pause and study the various stickers that chronicle the life of both it and the owner. There are characters from Sponge Bob Squarepants. There are stickers related to law enforcement and colorful peace signs. There are stickers which indicates a trip to the dentist. There are stars and even a singing hippopotamus. These all mark the experiences,dreams and imagination of the owner. I can imagine from this little bit of evidence that this child loves life and lives large. We all carry marks that chronicle our lives as well. We might have a smile that reveals wonderful moments of joy. Our faces can have lines that tell of heavy burdens. Perhaps our loving heart reveals the wonderful truth that we have been well loved by others. Fearfulness can be a mark left by time

  As I walked through our neighborhood park this morning, I was greeted by the largest pile of mulch I have ever seen. It is apparently time for the playground to be touched up and refurbished. As I reached this point on the path, I met a man walking in the opposite direction. We pass each other everyday at this same spot. We always speak, a simple greeting, an acknowledgement of the other as a person. We are about the same age, but with different color skin and no doubt very different experiences of life across the years. But in this moment we caught each other looking at this huge mound of mulch and shared the same response: “I’m glad I’m not working a shovel today!” We never broke stride as we went on our ways, smiling at our own recollections of hard days of physical work long past. It is amazing how we can feel a connection with someone in a passing instant, without even knowing their name or their story. We can feel such moments in a large crowd as beautiful music moves us or in

  As one walks along the streets of my neighborhood, there are a couple of bridges to cross. A large creek runs through the area, making many homes waterfront property. The creek also creates a wonderful addition to our neighborhood park. People fish here and there along its banks, and I’m sure many more wade from to time. The creek is home to many ducks and turtles that are enjoyed by those who live here. Along the streets are rain gutters, and on the rain gutters are these little signs: “This Drain for Rain/Flows to Creek: Don’t Dump”. The little fish always reminds me of Nemo in the animated film. As I pass each drain, this emblem catches my eye, every day. It reminds me of the gift of the creek. It reminds me of the kids I have seen riding past on their bicycles, clutching in one hand their trusty fishing pole. Most of all, this emblem reminds me how interconnected we are as we share this beautiful little planet. What goes into the drain effects the water. What effects the water, e

  A powerful and very strange storm blew through my little neighborhood last night. As I walked this morning, the sidewalks, lawns and streets were covered in trash from all the wonderful trees. In several places I found my route blocked by fallen limbs and large portions of trees. It was a surprise to find that some neighbors had been without power all night, and still were. In one of these pictures, there is a car under that huge limb. The light show was spectacular for much longer than the usual Texas summer thunderstorm. It just rolled on and on and on for hours, nature’s strobe briefly illuminating the gloomy night. But the sun rose pink and promising as people began the process of cleaning up and examining their homes for damage. Neighbors met in the middle of their streets to share stories and talk about when the power would return. Employees from the city were already out and about, taking inventory of broken trees and fallen limbs. In less than thirty minutes of daylight the w

As I walked today, I came upon these two chairs. They were lined up perfectly, pillows in place. As the sun was coming up, it appeared to me as if they were just waiting for two people to come and pause for a while. I could picture a warm conversation shared over coffee between two old friends. Or perhaps a parent and child, eating bowls of cereal between giggles. In my mind I could easily imagine an elderly couple, sitting in a comfortable silence that speaks volumes between their hearts. Yes, those chairs truly seemed to be waiting. At times it seems that we spend a large amount of our lives waiting. Like these chairs, everything is ready. We have done all we can. We have set the table for life as we long for life to be. We have not only dreamed or wished; we have planned and worked. It is time, or it sure seems as if it should be time. But the news doesn’t come. The job doesn’t materialize. The family does not begin. Issues regarding health change the timing of life. Events beyond o

I pass two houses on my walk each day that have a cactus in their landscaping. It always strikes me as a profound juxtaposition to have a cactus bordered by such a lush, thick carpet of green grass. In my mind, one would expect to see the cactus in a harsh, arid landscape. Seeing it like this always catches my attention. It seems to me that this picture serves as  a helpful image for the varied experiences of our everyday lives, especially in these strange and difficult days. The sharp contrast of the cactus and the lawn seems bizarre and dream-like. How can these two go together? The same is true for the way we may experience joy in the midst of such hard times, or health while so many around us are ill. For some, the timing of the pandemic has disrupted the celebrations of graduations and retirements and new beginnings. At the same time, it has provided extra space for some to reconnect and to strengthen bonds of family and friendship. In some wonderful moments, we can find ourselves

Several times I have crossed paths with this trio on my walks the last few weeks. Even though I’ve only seen them a few times, I find myself looking for them each morning when I hit the streets. Just the sight of them makes me smile. The young father walks along with his daughter as she fast and furiously moves her tiny bicycle along the sidewalks with a most de termined look on her face. They are just chatting away. What makes it perfect is that this dad, a big guy, is simultaneously walking the world’s smallest dog. When I see them together, I am impressed with the life and vitality they seem to possess. There seems to be a joy that follows in their wake. It is easy to forget that each of us leave a wake as we sail the journey of our life. We leave behind us a world that, for a few, is either better or worse. We leave behind us a world that, for a few, is either more hopeful or more despairing. We leave behind us a world that, for a few, is either more compassionate or more cold. And

On my walk today I came across boxes and boxes of books. Sets of encyclopedias, bound copies of National Geographic and other reference-type tomes were out on the curb. Anyone who has been in my office, or in my little study at home, knows how hard it was for me to take this picture and keep walking. I love books. Old books. New books. Paperback and hard bound bo oks. I can’t force myself to read on a screen and thus have never purchased an ebook. I like the heft and feel and smell of a book in my hand when I find time to leave my rather mundane life and live vicariously for a few hours through those whose experiences and world are quite different from my own. I have shelves of books and stacks of books next to shelves. It was, indeed, hard to not drive by later that day in my truck and load up the bed with these treasures. C.S. Lewis writes, “We read to know we are not alone.” I feel the same way. That is the power of books in my life. When I read the Bible, I know that I am not alone

  Things seem to be getting interesting again around the neighborhood as I make my morning walks. All kinds of wonderfully random things have been placed out on the curb after what appears to have been a very busy weekend of cleaning. Here I happened upon a classic Crock Pot. If you are of a certain age, as I am, in your younger years you may have shared my curios ity with the idea that a couple would not be allowed to marry unless they were guaranteed to receive at least one Crock Pot as a wedding gift. It certainly seemed that way. You had to have a license, a couple of witnesses, an officiant and a Crock Pot! These were the classic one-size-fits-all mandatory wedding gift when I was younger. It is funny how something can come to be so completely associated in our minds with something else. Those with genius in marketing create these connections all the time. In our culture, certain brands of products equate with luxury and success. Certain places and activities are linked to family

This morning I came upon a pair of boots at the curb, clean and polished and lined up as if ready for another day of faithful service. It was so strange to see them outside; they looked as of they should have been tucked at the end of a cozy bed. They captured my attention and as I took a picture, a song came rushing back from my distant memory in the twinkling o f an eye: “These boots are made for walking And that’s just what they’ll do One of these days these boots are gonna Walk all over you.” Who knew how close 1966 lingered in this strange year of 2020? I have to admit, I love such moments. If you follow these morning walks, this comes as no surprise. Memory is a powerful thing, having the ability to shape and guide our lives across the whole of the long, long walk of our life. Some memories can hold us back from joy and new beginnings. Others can inspire and sustain. In the scriptures of my religion, people of faith used to stack up a pile of rocks at the site of a significant ev

When I was a boy, we had a huge Mimosa tree in our front yard. I would climb high into its branches at the end of each day and watch for my daddy’s truck as it approached on his way home from work. I spent many a happy hour laying on my back in the cool grass and looking up into the spreading branches, watching the numerous Ruby-Throated Hummingbirds darting abou t. It was peaceful and beautiful. I can still recall vividly the smell of the grass and the pink of the tree blossoms and the calming touch of the breeze. As I walked today, this memory came flooding back. I stopped right where I was and decided that I might need to once again experience that perspective on life. So, under the spreading branches of a good climbing tree, I turned my gaze upward. I was suddenly in tune with the smells and sounds around me. For a brief moment, I felt young again. The power of perspective is strong. If we look for the bad in people, we can surely find it. If we look for excuses as to why we aren’t

  This morning I was greeted by this hauntingly beautiful sky. The scene caused me to do a double take. This was not the sun, as I’d first assumed. This was the moon glowing through the clouds, reflecting the sun so intensely that it seemed to burn with a fire all its own. I had to pause and work hard at comprehending this unusual sight. All this before I had walk ed the length of my driveway. As I enjoyed this moment of surprise, it was a reminder of how we relate to the unexpected in different ways. We can embrace the surprise with joy and with a childlike curiosity, living into the moment and opening our lives to the new experience. But we can also dig in our heels against anything that comes into our life that hints of the unknown, determined to continually fight a battle we know, deep down within us, we lost long ago. We cannot control everything. As I get older, I find that I enjoy the surprises more and more, and my many walks have been full of such surprises. Coming upon glimps

I walk each day through a land of marvelous trees. More accurately, I walk each day through a land of BIG marvelous trees. As I looked down the block this morning, against the backdrop of these big trees, the sun chose to highlight this little one; this newest tree in my pandemic world. The wonderful light made this little tree appear the most important tree of  all. It has been planted since March, when my walking began. It appears to be doing well, growing steadily through the hot summer months. With a little luck, It will one day, long after I walk this neighborhood for the last time, take its own place among the big trees in the neighborhood. Sometimes it is easy to see the potential and the possibilities in something or someone. A small tree, well planted, that will grow large. A talented child who will excel. A business idea that will surely make a splash because the time is right. A team loaded with talent that should have a great season. Sometimes it is an easy call, to imagine

My morning walk brought me to this wondrous sight. I could see this “something new” down the way, and my curiosity was engaged for the long length of the block. I had no idea what this could be. I had passed this same Texas flag every day for months. I admired the old red truck each morning. For the life of me, I could not imagine what was waving in the breeze up ahead. When I arrived, I still had no idea what I had found. From a distance it looked a bit like a scene I imagine in a high altitude village in Tibet, where prayer wheels and banners fill the air with color. From another stop along the way, it looked like the opening curtain for a drive-through car wash. Could this be the finish line for a race between little ones on bikes or scooters? Perhaps this would be the second house I had come upon during this pandemic that had fallen prey to being TP'd. Who knew? As I paused to take this picture, I began to smile. I finally knew. I understood. This fine piece of handiwork had ac

On this warm sunny morning I walked upon this pool, a new addition to the front yard of the home. It was full of water, balls of various sizes, a couple of water guns and the always popular colander. I must admit, it is the colander that caught my eye. (I would have been the kid playing with a colander!) It doesn’t take much imagination to picture all the fun had by the little ones who live here. Toys and water, what more could a child need to make it a great day? In my childhood, during the hot summer days of central Arkansas, we often found some relief by running through a sprinkler. When the temperatures stayed above 100 degrees for days on end, we resorted to filling up wash tubs with water and just sitting in them under the shade of the soaring hickory tree outside our back door. When the heat would break, and it finally rained, we would play in the water as it rushed down the ditch that followed the steep road on the hill on which we lived. Best of all, a couple of times a summer