Walks with Barry - Profoundly Simple: A Walk Reframed

  Well, another week has rushed past and been added to the mountain of memories and experiences that comprise our lives. This week has held a bit of everything - good, bad, happy, sad, sunshine and rain. We have been formed and fashioned a little by all that has happened to us and by what we have done to others. On this day, the sky was perfect, the air fresh and it seemed as if all were right with the world - at least for a moment. This towering tree caught my attention as I walked past. How many days has it seen? How many good and how many bad? How much laughter has it heard and how many tears have fallen across the years as it spread it branches toward the heavens? I wonder how many summer droughts have threatened its life and how many freezes challenged its strength and stamina. But it stands tall, waiting for spring and another chance for leaves to sprout and the calendar to turn another page. It is comforting to see this tree, framed by the blue sky, endure. Scripture teaches th

  While getting in my daily walk for our congregation’s 40 Day Challenge during the season of Lent, I limped around the corner of the building to see the moon high in the bright cloudless sky. It was strikingly beautiful, though strange and out of place. Walking in this boot has certainly frustrated me and complicated my life. But, it has also slowed me down. My pace is not what it was just 4 weeks ago, and I am noticing things I would probably have missed. That is a gift. It takes such an image to remind me that both the sun and the moon are always present, day and night. It’s just that we usually can’t see them at the same time. The rotation of the earth around the sun, the brightness of the daytime sky, the season of the year; all these factors determine whether we SEE the sun or moon, not whether they exist. They always ARE. It is good to be reminded from time to time that it is not our perception or our knowledge that creates reality. Some things just are. The anonymous concentrat

  The sun has made its return to our little corner of the world, and with it came shadows once again. It is easy for shadows to go unnoticed until you have a long week of overcast skies which produce no shadows at all. To my eye, the return of shadows is as striking as the return of the bright light of the sun. They give depth and interest to even the mundane scene. Who knew that a parking lot could appear so interesting that a person would strive to capture the image? Shadows make for great painting, for great poetry, for a greater understanding of the human psyche. In the Bible there is mention of the shadow of death, the shadow of the the Almighty, the absence of any shadow of turning with God who is always faithful to us in love and grace. Lady Gaga writes, “If you don't have any shadows you're not in the light.” Walt Whitman said, “Keep your face always toward the sunshine - and shadows will fall behind you.” Every life has its shadow side, some more than others. But I fin

  It seemed so strange today to see this view without everything covered in a white blanket of snow. Each time I step out of my office, I enjoy this vista of the pond and golf course across the street. It was a brilliant, white view for that past week. As the weather returned to seasonal norms, so did my view. I must admit, it looks rather plain. In the Book of Lamentations, we find these surprisingly positive words in the midst of great struggle and sorrow: “Because of the Lord’s great love, we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. I say to myself, “The Lord is my portion; therefore I will wait for him.” This day is a gift and each day really is a sign of God’s compassion and faithfulness. What will I make of this day on my end? Will I make it a day where others experience compassion through me? Will I make it a day where others find a faithful friend that sees them through a tough time? I have the power to make this

  It is hard to believe, as the temperature climbs into the seventies, that just five days ago we were freezing in an unprecedented snowfall and record low temperatures. We went from busted, frozen pipes at the church on Tuesday, to wishing the heat was not working so well as I preached In my robe and stole and sweated my way through my sermon on Sunday. My, how things change! But change they do. All week, the little garden outside my office door was piled deep with snow. Now there remains only this small patch, hanging on for dear life. In fact, at the end of the day when I left, the snow was but a memory. All now appears to be well on its way to Spring. Storms are like that, aren’t they? They roll in, disruptive and all consuming. It soon seems as if we can’t even remember life before. But storms also roll out. Some stay for a day, some hang on for so long it seems we will not be able to endure them. But the snow melts, the roads clear and clean up begins. Life continues moving forwa

  As the winter storm and its effects are hopefully winding down, we now assess the damage. Broken pipes. Wet floors. Damaged walls and ceilings. Frayed nerves. Exhausted minds and bodies. Long waiting lists for the services of those who can help us recover from it all. The idea of record cold and accumulation have long ago given way to other feelings and hard questions. The snow is no longer white and beautiful. We are so ready to move on. In our baptismal garden at the church, the snow was truly beautiful. As I entered this space for the first time after the last snow of the stormy week, I thought the font looked like a half-eaten ice cream cone. Then I saw the cross, mounted on the wall on the opposite side from which I had entered. It seemed to be planted in the snow on the font. It appeared to be rising like a sun over the horizon of the snow-filled font. It is my prayer for all who are tired and frustrated from the effects of the storm sense that something is rising on their hori

  I loved the image of the snow on this outdoor table. As the wind blew the snow under the cover of the patio, somehow the flakes did not “fill in” the open space of the design. Instead, as the snow piled high, the uniqueness of the surface was accented, not diminished. The result was beautiful. Each of us is unique. We look different. We see the world through the lens of our own experience. We face life with our own set of challenges. We pray and relate to God in different ways. We, each of us, in some way, march to the beat of our own drum. In the story of David, we find the Prophet Samuel struggling with finding the next King to anoint. He could only think in terms of the stereotypes of what a leader looked like. Then God spoke, “Do not look on his appearance or on the height of his stature, because I have rejected him. For the Lord sees not as man sees: man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.” I find it great comfort to know that God sees US. God sees

  As I walked around the church today, I was taken with this snow-laden Magnolia tree. It is not often that one sees a grand southern tree covered with snow. The grand and glossy green of the leaves stands in clear contrast to the purity of the white snow. In the midst of these days of terrible weather, no power and high frustration, it is a gift to live in hope. To have eyes to see a better future can get us through difficult times. The Psalmist writes, “I believe that I shall look upon the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living! Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord! That is easier said than done, of course. In this situation, it is appropriate to be angry and frustrated and concerned with this unbelievable circumstance. So what can we do? May we find ways to be hope for each other. What small thing might I do that will help a neighbor? What act of kindness might brighten a day, even though it changes no circumstance? How might I li

  Before the day begins, before the first crunching tires mar the surface, before some hearty soul takes the first slipping steps, the snow is a milky sea, calm and smooth, untroubled. Clean and white, even the dawning of a grey day can’t diminish the beauty of the scene. All the world seems fresh and new. All the world seems poised and ready for a do over. When I was a boy, I loved that moment of stepping out into the bright morning sun as it reflected on the freshly fallen snow. I wanted to be the first to leave my tracks. I wanted to be the first to sled the hill. I wanted to be the first to track rabbits and roam the trails in the woods. Something about the fresh snow called my name. One of the images of a life do over that I remember from my childhood days in Sunday School is an image of snow. From the beginning of the Book of Isaiah we were taught words that I can still recall. “Though your sins be as scarlet, they shall be as white as snow. Though they be red like crimson, they

What a strange few days of weather we are having in Texas! I awoke to a temperature of 9 on this morning that begins under a blanket of pristine snow. Snow, enough to obliterate the definition of driveway and lawn, lawn and street, is a rare thing in this area. I found this dimly lit image of the rarity too intriguing to ignore. As I looked out from my front windows at this unusual scene, it seemed that I was looking at the world as I long for it to be, all the time. So calm. So peaceful. So clean. The blanket of snow preserves the integrity of the individual homes, yet blends the yards together into one great shared space where differences take second place to the common experience of snow. Due to the snow, I realized that my much loved little corner of the world seemed one with my neighbors on either side of my house - both the neighbor I know so well and the one with whom I never speak. We are connected by the snow. We are connected by many things, if we would only look at our lives

  For my money, this is the very best Valentine’s Day yard art currently in place on the planet. Or at least in my neighborhood. But honestly, does anything come even close to conveying the idea of love as well as a dinosaur holding a heart that says, “You’re Sweet”? Exactly. I think not. You’re welcome. There is something very joyful and humorous and life-giving in this strange holiday offering. The playfulness of it really sets it a part from the field. I’m certain that is why I like it so much, the playfulness of it. Sometimes love gives us a brief respite from seriousness and the darkness of the world. Mokokoma Mokhonoana writes that, “Our seriousness prevents us from enjoying the circus of life.” I like the ring of truth in these words. Life is a circus, no matter how we play it, so why don’t we at least enjoy the fun that life brings along the way? Why don’t we let love take us to the humor in even the most awkward of situations? Jesus taught that if we want to catch a glimpse of

  From the looks of the neighborhood, it must be getting close to that special day. Where there was once ghosts, where there were once reindeer, now appear hearts of various sizes. This little donkey that I see every day even got into the act. This big red heart keeps him company on the front lawn. So, what other reason could there possibly be? It must be February. And it must be close to Valentine’s Day. As the day approaches, there will be lots of candy purchased and flowers given by the thousands. Stores will sell out of cards and gift bags. This holiday is a big deal. People seem to get into the spirit. It seems everybody wants to be loved and to love. At least on Valentines Day. Love is a powerful thing. Lucky are those who know what it is to be truly loved. Broken hearted are those who know the pain of being unloved, or worse yet, feeling unlovable. In any of these ways, love is a very, very powerful force in our lives and in our world. Martin Luther King Jr. said, “Love is the o

  What does one do with a pink pig? More specifically, what does one do with a pink pig in purple boots? This little one greets every passerby with an attentive look and cheerful gaze. So, what does one do with a pink pig? I think you just smile. What else? You just embrace the whimsy and smile at the absurdity and grab a moment of joy along your walk. Oscar Wilde writes, “Simple pleasures are the last healthy refuge in a complex world.” It is more important than ever to be attuned to the simple gifts that surround us as we walk through this life. A puppy. The song of a bird. A phone call from someone loved but not seen. A memory of childhood sparked by a sound or smell. A voice from the past breaking into the present, giving opportunity to catch up on the years gone past. These are the simple gifts that add greatly to our journeys. Jesus taught, “Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.” We live in a time when

  My best friend sent me this picture of a balloon that met its ignoble end in the limbs of this tree along the trail she walks in her neighborhood. The shiny pink Mylar is in stark contrast to the dormant and barren limbs. Here it hangs, for who knows how long? Anytime I see a balloon in such a dire situation, I can’t help but wonder where the story started. Was it a child’s birthday party, with cake and games and presents? Could it have been a gift to someone sick in the hospital, and upon the return home the balloon escaped an open car door? How far away did its story begin? Blocks? Across the neighborhood? Across town? Miles away? Human beings all have a back story. We would do well to consider the journey that brought a person to the moment when we meet them and know them. They have also traveled far, and some have had a path that was most difficult. The wind that pushed them along in life was seldom a gentle breeze. They have known storm after storm. Some do not have a story that

  Back in March of 2020, I began my walks to fill the loss of my daily 5.00 a.m. hour at the gym that had started my everyday for decades. Along the way of 5-6 miles a day on the sidewalks of my neighborhood, I had a few setbacks. A bone spur here, a bone spur there; I was slowed but not stopped. I would walk a shorter distance or maybe skip a day here and there to heal. Then last week happened. I tried to create a great story for my injury. I told my congregation I was at my power lifting class and had gone for my personal best of 550 lbs, when something cracked. But nobody bought that tale, so I told the truth. I was standing in the office and went to turn around in response to the call of my name. My ankle rolled, I caught myself before I fell all the way to the ground, only to fracture my fibula. Yes, I injured myself while standing still. Not everyone could do that; or at least that is what I tell myself. So I am in a boot. And I have an extender that makes my regular shoe on the

  Everywhere we walk around the city, there are lights at the corners. Some use the words “Walk” and “Don’t Walk”. Some count down as time passes on a safe crossing. Others, like the light at this intersection, use the symbol of a hand for “stop” and the profile of a person walking for “go”. The lights for pedestrians are synchronized with the lights for the cars to provide an efficient, safe flow of traffic I grew up in a more rural setting. We did not have sidewalks or street lamps or lights to tell us when to cross. On the other hand, we didn’t have much traffic. So it all worked out. Wouldn’t it be nice if there were pedestrian lights set up at every corner of our life? Wouldn’t it be wonderful if, at every big decision point in our life, we could just look at the light? Stop. Go. Hurry up. Time is running out. Stress levels would go down and anxiety would diminish. There would be fewer “accidents”. Life would flow efficiently and safely. Decisions about what college to attend, wh

  As the day ends, the sky glows pink and night falls. We never cease to be amazed at the effect of dirt and pollen in the air as the sun sets. Each display is unique and different. Each one a pleasant surprise. Each one the gift of a moment when we stop our worrying and busyness and see the beauty in the world. It costs nothing to enjoy the show. It does not crowd the calendar with one more thing; the show lasts but a few moments. Nobody cares who you are, where you are from or how you are dressed. A beautiful sunset is the ultimate expression of true gift. No expectation. No hidden motive. No angle. Just pure gift. Oh, to live a life characterized by the giving of good gifts. To be truly generous. To find joy fully in the pleasure of another. To place no expectations of payback or play the card of indebtedness to those closest to us. To offer what beauty our life holds to others for the sheer joy of giving. What a wonderful life it would be. What a wonderful world it would create. Th

  As I took a walk around my church buildings this morning, I was startled by the piercing shriek of a crow. As I turned around to find the bird, I was serendipitously lined up exactly with the cross on the cupola, and there sat the obnoxious crow. Instead of seeing the full cross, it appeared only to be a pole with a bird perched and balanced on the end. Since I couldn’t resist the “against all odds” moment of being in perfect line with the cross, I grabbed my phone and got lucky with the shot. Where we stand determines what we see doesn’t it? Our perspective is always just that, our perspective. Our view is effected by our own experiences and by the influences that shape and form us across the years. We would do well to remember this in these troubled times. Whenever I hear someone say - including myself - that “I just don’t understand how they can see it that way”, perhaps our first thought should be to respond, “That is correct , I don’t.” Many factors go into our perspective on th

  The clouds on this particular morning remind me of those images I so loved as a child, those Images where you somehow can see two totally separate things as you stare at the page. Is it a chalice or a pair of profiles facing one another? Is it an old man’s face or a dog? You remember those? I am still fascinated by such images. Today I couldn’t decide if the sky looked like an aerial view of the ocean along some white sand beach, or a great tsunami wave about to wipe out my little neighborhood. Then again it looked like a towering, snow covered mountain, silhouetted against the bright blue sky. Things aren’t always what they appear and sometimes looks can be deceiving. A situation that appears wonderful can prove to be disastrous. A situation that seems awful in one moment can be a blessing down the road. A person, rough and hard in appearance, can prove to be a kind, compassionate soul. A person who seems to care can turn on us and seek to destroy us. Situations, and people, are

  On such a brilliant, sunny day, this hummingbird feeder seemed an alien space ship as it hangs suspended among the bare limbs of winter. The red color is alive in the sun. I could hear in my mind the sound effects from those wonderfully awful 1950-1960s science fiction movies, full of flying saucers, that my father and I would watch on Saturday afternoons when the weather kept us from our chores. It also seems strange to see a hummingbird feeder minus the hummingbirds. One expects to see the zipping and sipping of these marvelous creatures whenever you see such an avian version of a 7-11. But all is quiet. During these long, continuing days of Covid, we have seen many such scenes. Movie theaters with no fans. Restaurants with no hungry patrons. Church buildings with no worshipers. Parks with no playful children. Schools with no students. Public pools with no public. Strange and disturbing sights all. But life has gone on. In new ways, in different ways, we continue. Necessity and sp