Walks with Barry - Profoundly Simple: A Walk Reframed

  I don’t know about you, but sometimes I am just tired. I sense the same in so many others as the pandemic stretches on into this new year. I see the tiredness in those I visit in the hospital who are fighting the good fight against failing health. I see the tiredness in young people who are too busy and feel so much pressure much too early in life. At times it seems that the whole world is weary. But, at the same time, I see around me such faithfulness. Teachers, who in the most stressful of circumstances, continue to pour their lives into the futures of our children. Medical workers who care and serve in the midst of short staffs and extra shifts. Those workers who provide our food and stock the shelves and assist us in a thousand ways each day. It is easy to forget that world is full of faithful people who work hard and serve others, even though they are tired. Today, this inviting scene called to me in the midst of my tiredness. So many words came to my mind as I approached these

  Since the winds have finally stripped the trees of the last of their leaves, clean up has begun in the neighborhood. Many houses share some version of this image - a clean lawn with a crowded curb. But this house stood out for its neatness. Instead of bags of leaves tossed haphazardly as trash piled at the curb for pick up, it seems as if these leaves were all packed up and ready to go on a vacation to some exotic destination. Over the past few weeks I have had the sacred privilege of sharing in several memorial services. As we celebrated and remembered the lives of those we love but see no more, thoughts always turn to being “ready” for that transition when it comes. We can be “ready” by striving to live our life as the person we are called to be, by investing our lives in things of ultimate value and by being kind, loving and grace-filled people toward all. We can be “ready” by trusting our lives now to the love and grace of God. We can be ready by living life to the full. In the B

  As I made my way around the neighborhood, I saw something new and very interesting as I looked down the length of the block. If you are of a certain age, as am I, the shape of this object will forever be a part of your memory. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Could it be the Mercury space capsule returning to earth after a trip into space and orbiting the earth? Well, it was a fun thought, and a good memory. Apparently what I saw was some type of combination swing and playhouse hanging in a large Oak tree. It had port hole windows and an entrance flap that could be secured. I could not help but imagine how cozy and safe one would feel inside, or how nice to rest within as this little pod swayed ever so gently in the breeze. But, assuming I would be well past the weight limit, and knowing I was well past the height restrictions, I refrained from trying to climb aboard. A brief pause to imagine the experience would have to suffice. Though this pod was made for small children, it reminded me

  After what seems like weeks on end of unusually windy weather, this day had dawned still and calm. It was cold, but the sky was blue and the sun was shining as I walked across the campus of the hospital where I had gone to visit a friend in the emergency room. On the return walk to my truck, I turned the corner and noticed these three flag poles. Somehow, I was oblivious to them as I had passed by on my way in. Now I stopped and took in the sight as they stood at attention against a backdrop of brilliant sky. I suppose it could have been because of the long stretch of windy days. Or, perhaps it was because of the busyness of my life in recent weeks. It could have been because my mind had been racing with concern for my friend ever since I had received word of his situation. It was probably due to a combination of all three. Whatever the reason, I do not believe I have ever caught a glimpse of anything in my life that spoke so clearly of stillness and calm. As the flags hung straight

As I walked through my neighborhood over the weekend, people had begun putting their discarded items out at the curb to be picked up by the city on Monday morning. If you walk with me, you know that I often come across interesting and fascinating stuff. Or, more accurately, I often come across stuff that I find to be interesting and fascinating. To the owners, the stuff is obviously just trash. This offering caught my eye as I made the turn on a new block. For the life of me, I could not figure out what this might be. From a distance it appeared only as a low and dark blob. No shape to define its identity. As I drew closer, I could see that it was a collection of several somethings. Finally upon arriving at the address, I saw that these four pieces had once been fitted together to form a chair. Separately, they served no purpose. Together, they were something that was much, much more. We humans are better together as well. When we fit together with others, we are more than we can be by

  The sun was shining, the winds had finally died down and neighbors emerged from their homes to walk their dogs and stroll with their children once again. The sidewalks were busy and the yards were full; it seemed as though life was starting again. During the nights of hard freeze, many people covered plants and flowers to protect them from damage. The normally beautiful landscaping and flower beds of the neighborhood were, temporarily, transformed into a collection of tarps and plastic sheeting. Not attractive, but purposeful. At this house, the plastic had been pulled away so that the flowers beneath could embrace the warmth of the sun for a few hours. In contrast to the dormant lawn, the brilliant colors of the pansies literally glowed in the last rays of the setting sun. It was suddenly hard to believe that the previous days had been so harsh and cold. For a moment I couldn’t recall the howling winds and freezing temperatures. It was as if the homeowner had not only uncovered thei

  As the wind howled and the temperatures plummeted, all manner of things were blown about the church grounds. Plastic grocery sacks. Coffee cups. Discarded masks. Water bottles. Empty potato chip bags. But to me, by far the most interesting object was this plastic egg. Left from last Easter’s celebration, this lone, forgotten egg must have finally been shaken loose from where it had been hidden in the limbs of a tree or the branches of a bush. This symbol of Spring seemed oddly out of place in the harsh winter weather. There was no warm sunshine to greet it or laughing children racing to find it. But, there it was. It had been there all this time. The egg has long been a symbol of the resurrection of Jesus. This is the ultimate hope, that death does not get the final word. This is the bedrock of the faith, that not even death can separate us from the love of God. All this is a bit easier to embrace on Easter morning in the buzz of the excited crowds and soaring music and energized chi

  As January rolls on, I still enjoy seeing the displays of student’s goals for the new year in our preschool. I have shared a couple of them with you already. As I walk the halls and read with joy their vision for their lives, I am reminded that often our goals reflect areas in our life where we feel we have fallen short or failed. If my goal is to lose weight, it is because I have some weight to lose. If my goal is to get into better physical condition, it is because I have failed to exercise adequately. If my goal is to pay more attention to my spiritual life, it is because I feel that I have neglected this aspect of my life. And if my goal is to “learn how to not snatch a toy from my sister”, well, I have probably been doing some toy snatching from time to time. That is how we work for change in our lives, no matter our age. We make a decision about one something we wish to do differently, or do better, or to not do at all, and we focus on finding a new way to live. We can’t tackle

  This particular morning was brutally cold. The temperature was at the freezing point, the wind howling at thirty miles per hour. As I drove past my neighborhood park, I was amazed to see a small group braving the weather. I pulled in a parking lot in order to get a closer look. What I had discovered was a soccer practice. I thought to myself that this must be a group of highly committed players, not even such harsh weather could dampen their passion for the sport. But as I parked near the field, I was even more astounded. These players were on crutches, running and kicking and displaying amazing skills. I could not help but think of words like commitment, perseverance and dedication as I paused for a few minutes to watch. How easy it is for us to let any number of things keep us from our plans and commitments. Of the crowd that normally fills the park, these athletes were the lone group to keep their practice time on this cold morning. The weather did not deter them. The fact that th

  Since moving to this area fifteen years ago, I cannot recall a period of time when the winds have been so strong so often. It seems as if we are living in a world of constantly flying leaves and sailing trash. Allergies have been ignited with the help of the wind and, when the temperature drops below sixty degrees, you feel the need to bundle up like you are heading into a blizzard. It is strange indeed. As I made my way through the neighborhood, I came across this ceiling fan that had no ceiling. It had obviously been replaced and had been set at the curb to be picked up. What caught my attention, and what does not show up in the photo, was the fact that the fan was still spinning. As the winds blew, the blades rotated. It was if the homeowner had replaced the fan and failed to let the fan know. It just kept on doing what a fan is created to do. Sometimes we can find ourselves out of place. A move takes us far from familiar faces and relationships. A change in health disrupts our ro

As I took a little stroll toward the end of the day, I discovered that there must be a big construction project underway nearby. I came upon this huge pile of dirt and this impressive collection of busted up concrete. Nothing unusual about them, though I was very impressed thinking about what force it must take to bust up such a formidable material. What was strange is the fact that I have not seen a construction site. All the work is obviously going on someplace else. All the planning. All the hustle and bustle. All the noise. All the sweat and physical labor. Everything about what is taking place is out of sight, except for these results of the labor. I have no idea what the project is seeking to accomplish. I have no idea what the workers started with or what they hope to end up with when all is said and done. What is clear is that something big is in progress. Something is always under construction in our lives. We know our own story, what is being torn down or built up. But we do

As you may guess from my last post, the children in the preschool have me thinking about my goals for the new year. I took several pictures that I will keep, not only because I find their plans amusing, but also because I find their plans inspiring. I am fascinated with how their minds work. But I am also fascinated by their hearts. This in itself was a good reminder for me; whether we realize it or not, the plans we make reveal our hearts as well.  "In 2022 I will give everybody cookies!" As a big guy, this child is speaking my language. Is the exclamation point really necessary? Not for me. If cookies are involved, I read everything as if it is marked by an exclamation point! After all, we are talking cookies. I love that this child's goal is not to eat more cookies. I love that this child's goal is not to bake more cookies. No, this goal is focused outward on others. "I will give everybody cookies". And if the word "give" is not wonderful enough

Yesterday I took a walk through the buildings to see what I might come across as the preschool is back in full swing for the New Year. I love the sights and sounds and energy of the place when it is buzzing with children. I love to see our incredible team of dedicated teachers and leaders who are investing themselves in the lives of so many. And, of course, I love the art work that is displayed along the hallways outside the classrooms. Since it is early January, the children have been setting their goals for 2022. And what wonderful goals they are! One of my favorites is captured in this photo. "In 2022 I will learn to ride a unicorn." That, my friends, is a goal to inspire your soul for a new year. My favorite thing about the drawing is the smile on the unicorn's face. I love the idea that not only will this little one's goal of learning to ride make them happy, it will make the unicorn happy as well. What a marvelous idea - a goal that is a two way street. A goal w

  Yesterday was a really good day. I spent most of it with our wonderful staff in planning and working at our weekly team meeting day. The day ended with the opportunity to begin a new small group discussion class that will run for six weeks. I had a full house of wonderful people to share the journey. Somewhere in between I had a few minutes to catch up with an old friend, on the phone of all things! It was a day spent doing work that I love with people that I love. It was a day when I realized once again that I have been a lucky man. As I headed to my truck to make my way home and call it a day, I noticed a spectacular sky. Though it was late, the sky seemed so bright. The clouds were distinct and even a touch of the blue of the day remained. Yet it was dark enough for the lights in the cupola to be visible. It was a striking and beautiful sight. So much of life is a strange mix of darkness and light. Oh, sometimes it is stark and clear, the distance between the two. Good days and ba

  On my walk I came across this line of trees in three separate conditions. At first I had to figure out what I was seeing. Then my mind went back to almost a year ago, to the event known in North Texas as “Snowvid”. That unusually harsh freeze and the week of record setting low temperatures did much damage to homes, businesses and flora alike. These trees, lined up side by side, survived. One appears to have been unscathed by the harsh conditions. It is green and growing again, top to bottom. One has been fighting the good fight to come back, the dead section looks as if it is being absorbed by new and green branches. The tree in the middle is starting back on the road to health and wholeness, but only after having a damaged section pruned away. All three are alive. All three are growing. All three are in their own state of becoming. I could not help but think of how we humans are much the same. At different times, our lives can feel to be in varying states of repair. We sometimes com

  After the hard freezes and high winds of recent weeks, most trees stand stark and bare against the sky. Their leaves have fallen and been scattered to who knows where. But as I passed by the park, my eyes were drawn to a most interesting sight. There, surrounded by bare trees of all shapes and species and sizes, stood a lone, fully clothed oak. All its leaves, long dead, still proudly in their places. It made me wonder how this happened. What caused this tree to hold tight to its leaves when all those trees around it let go? Would the leaves hold on all winter? How would they finally exit the scene so that new growth can take their place in the Spring? What made it possible for these leaves to withstand the winds that stripped all other trees bare? I could not help but think of some people I have known across the years of my journey. They stand out in my mind as well because of the way they stood out in the world. These people were able to be who they are, regardless of what is going

  There is something mysterious and haunting about a pool when it is lit at night. On this cold, cold morning the blue glowed like a jewel against the darkness. As I passed, I could not help but notice that, try as one may, the waters do not stay clean. During these days of cold fronts and northern winds, no matter how much time is spent scooping leaves off the surface, there are always more to come. With nature’s every breath it seems that all the work is undone. Every day calls for a touch up so the beauty of the waters can shine. It seems that the same can be said about our lives. Even when we are at our most conscientious about who we are and how we live, the winds keep blowing and the leaves still make their way to us. The leaves keep us from shining as well. Our leaves come in many shapes and sizes. Some are new to us and some just keep blowing in across the years of our past. We may have those moments where we feel we have cleaned up once and for all. We may have those moments w

  I found myself a bit confused at the end of the day when I came upon this yard. At one corner was a small inflatable lamp post with a sign pointing to the “North Pole”. The yard was filled with Christmas lights and Jack-O-Lanterns and dragons of various sizes and ferocity. I was suddenly dazed and confused as to what month it might be, what holiday it might be and where I might have landed at the end of a long, busy day. This yard seemed to be a frenetic mix of everything at once. Of course, I liked it very much. Sometimes life can feel this way, can it not? I am amazed at how we can experience so many emotions at once. We can feel so blessed in life, yet feel the burden of responsibility in very real ways. We can be filled with joy, yet know the effects of the stress of our troubled times. We can be excited, yet fearful. Faithful, yet struggle with doubt. Life can sometimes be like my neighbors yard, a little of everything all at once, fun and confusing at the same time. In the lett

  As I, from time to time, take my walk around the church property, I always find this little porch to be among my favorite spots. I am certain that one reason I am drawn here is because this is the entrance into our preschool and children’s building. Being around children always brings me joy. I also like this porch because of the way the light and shadows fall, depending on the time of day and time of year. The sharp, crisp line of the sun as it finds its way under the cover of the roof. The soft, calm shadows provided by trees and structure. It is a scene that is constantly changing. But I think what I like most about this spot is how inviting it is to all who pass by. The sense of security provided by the cover of the porch, the cross, the little bench that sits at the end of the space, the gardens that greet you - all these factors come together to say to any and all, “You are welcome here”. This will always be my vision of the Church. This will always be my prayer for the Church.

  As day was dying in the west, I came upon this interesting sight. Through the tree line, quickly dissolving into the gloom of night, this row of lights slowly came into focus. I imagined what this might be. A line of marchers carrying their lights into the darkness? A passenger train waiting to begin its journey once again? A broad walkway leading to some grand event? The sight took my mind back to my childhood and the excitement of a tent revival I attended. As the nights drew dark, the rows of lights strung about would seem to suddenly appear. They added to the atmosphere, and also drew all the insects from miles around. Lights in the darkness always capture our focus and draw us in. The row of lights were, of course, just that; a row of lights strung across the back of a house. Nothing more exciting, nothing more exotic. No marchers. No train. No grand event. Not even the rousing music or loud preaching of a tent revival. Just a string of lights. But they had quite the effect. The

  As the sun was beginning to rise, there was just enough light to begin to bring this stained glass window to life. Against the darkness of the room, the soft glow of color began to shine, and the shapes and patterns contained within began to take shape. There was a special beauty to this beginning. It seemed as if this could be the first day in the life of the window. It seemed as if it could be coming into focus for the first time. It felt as if the morning was a kind of creation moment. How fitting for this earliest day of a new year. Each day will add a little more light to the year, and both the year and our lives will come a bit more into focus. The year doesn’t spring to life all at once. It develops and reveals itself slowly over a 365 day sunrise. Likewise, we are becoming more fully who we are over time, each day bringing us more into focus. As I grew up, I had the idea that God “brought us along” through the days and years of our lives. We weren’t already who we would event