Walks with Barry - Profoundly Simple: A Walk Reframed

  I came across this interesting tree the other morning. I was immediately transported back to my childhood and one of my favorite boyhood books, “My Side of the Mountain”. It was about a boy who went off by himself to live in the woods and to find everything he needed provided by nature. I don’t recall how many times I read that book in my elementary school years, but it was plenty. As I recall, he made his home in a tree that had a natural door, much like this one. I dreamed of following in his footsteps and doing the same in the woods behind my house. I never did. Home comes in all kinds of versions. Opulent mansions. Simple cabins. Modest middle-sized houses. Some people have the amazing ability to create home even when they are without a physical home. There are heroes who keep family together through tough transitions and the hardest of times. They commit to staying connected. They love one another. They are accountable to each other as they lift up the heart of what it means to

  As I walked into the rising sun on this beautiful morning, a splash of color caught my eye. At first I assumed it was a bird flashing through the trees along my path. Upon closer inspection, I discovered a glimpse of the future. It is late September, and even though it is warm and the season exceptionally dry, Fall is still coming. What I really caught out of the corner of my eye was a preview of what lies ahead; the beauty of the colors of autumn in the mountains. Sometimes a little glimpse of the future can get us through all manner of situations. A day without pain gives us hope for a future of health. The marking of an anniversary of a great loss helps us embrace the thought of life where the memories are still precious but bring as many smiles as tears. A kind word when we need it most makes it possible to see the world the way God intends it to be. We read in the Revelation, “He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death’ or mourning or crying or pain, fo

  On this early morning walk along a lovely forest-lined lane, I came upon this tree that had fallen, but not fallen. Obviously a recent strong wind had sent the dead and rotted trunk askew, snapping it off near the ground. But the springy, live trees around it caught it in their arms and would not let it fall all the way to the ground. So here it leans, fallen but not fallen, keeping watch over all who pass. Here it leans, in its place, as always. As for us humans, it is the lucky few who experience such friendship in their lives. It is the lucky few who, when the storms knock them down, find themselves safe in the arms of those who had always been nearby. Like this tree, some know the blessing of being held close in the hardest of times. The apostle Paul writes, “We who are strong have an obligation to bear with the failings of the weak, and not to please ourselves. Let each of us please his neighbor for his good, to build him up. For Christ did not please himself, but as it is writt

  What a beautiful morning this was! The blue sky, the wisps of clouds, the green of the trees and the rising mountains came together with a perfect “hello” to mark the beginning of another week. Perhaps it is growing up appreciating the outdoors, but even though it has been years since I have backpacked or camped, nothing speaks of God to me quite like the beauty of creation. I have always been amazed how one can feel so tiny and insignificant and so loved and valued in one moment. But it happens. The glory of the creation puts our place in perspective, while the love of the Creator gives us our worth as a part of it all. Jesus taught that God sees the sparrows and the flowers, and God sees us. The Psalmist writes, “Bless the Lord, O my soul! O Lord my God, you are very great! You are clothed with splendor and majesty, covering yourself with light as with a garment, stretching out the heavens like a tent. He lays the beams of his chambers on the waters; he makes the clouds his chariot

  At first, I thought it was my eyesight that was off. Or perhaps an optical illusion produced by surrounding objects. Then I considered it to be the result of having walked several miles at a brisk pace. But I backtracked and took another look. I took a picture to assist me in the investigation. I came to the conclusion that it was not my eyesight. I came to the conclusion that it was not the object’s relation to any other object. I came to the conclusion that is was not a result of my huffing and puffing a bit on my morning walk. No, this light pole really is NOT straight. And it is off more than a few degrees. I felt as if I had solved some great mystery. Where I grew up, one often heard the phrase, “half a bubble off plumb”. That saying came from the use of a level to determine if whatever one was building was square. Whether laying out a stone wall or nailing studs in place, the goal is for everything to be plumb in relation to everything else. As you can imagine, the phrase came

  As I stopped to fill my truck’s tank with gas one morning, I saw this sign. Being the creature of habit that I am, I always fill up at the same station. I’m sure that this sign has been there as long as I have been going to the corner store for gas, but I had never noticed it before. I’m not sure why I saw it on this day. But it captured my attention for the whole of my visit. “Safe Place”. Isn’t that what we are all looking for? A safe place for our children to call home. A safe place for teachers and children to go to school each day. A safe place to work. A safe place to be who we truly are. A safe place to BE. I would think that this is a universal desire, a desire that crosses every boundary and barrier we have worked so hard to build between us. Regardless of our religion, race, ethnicity, age, gender, economic status or orientation, the one thing it seems we could all rally around is the idea of making our community a safe place. A safe place for everyone. Deep down we know th

  I have been thinking lately of the power of favorite places. You know what I mean, don’t you? The power of those places that stick in our minds and in our hearts over the years, those places associated with people and with experiences that are, somehow, forever a part of us. As a child, my family did not travel much. We took one long trip as I grew up; we drove from Arkansas to Washington DC to see my cousins. It was a great adventure and I remember the battles between we three siblings in the back seat on that long drive. But we did go to Texas almost every year to Six Flags over Texas. To this day, I can’t pass that place without joyful memories of staying in a hotel and riding all kinds of scary rides with my daddy. Though I now live close to the park and could go often. I don’t visit. But it is forever a favorite place because of the special, playful times with my dad. Across the years of my adult life, my favorite places seem to be those places I worship and serve with the peop

  As a very long day drew to a close, I was walking across a parking lot and thinking of dinner and the hope of sleep. I was preparing to take a picture, which as you know, is not unusual. But, suddenly, all I could focus on was my shadow. Since I was facing east, my shadow was no longer following me. Instead, it led the way. Strange to think that the shadow was me. My head too small. My legs to long. My clothes too big. It was very funny to see myself as a shadow leading the way. It was also funny to see that I often think of the substantial me in the same terms as the shadow me. All I see is what I don’t like about myself. I need to lose weight. I am looking old. I need a new look when it comes to my clothes. Strange that my first thought seldom, if ever, seems to be what I like about myself. I have a feeling I am not alone in this realization. It is hard to not judge ourselves on our appearance and achievements. It is hard to not judge ourselves by whatever the current image of beau

  A few nights ago, it was almost a full moon. Almost. Still, the brightness of the almost full moon gave the evening a wonderful feel. I always enjoy the dark that isn’t dark when the moon shines bright. Such a night seems peaceful and calm to me. The air is cool and the breeze is gentle. It feels easier to breathe and a racing mind slows a bit. It is a wonderful gift of beauty at the end of a long day. God’s gifts come to us in all manner of ways. Some we anticipate and look forward to, adding to their value to us. The birth of a child. A graduation. A new career opportunity. A visit with a dear friend long missed. Others come to us like an almost full moon, unexpected and surprising. I remember once, long ago, when I was struggling in life. I felt alone and lost in unknown territory. I did not know where to turn or what to do. Out of the blue a knock on the door revealed a friend who, somehow, felt that I could use a kind face in that moment. It made all the difference. To this day

  Well, here is something you don’t see every day. As I walked along I came upon a radiator. It was leaning against a Crepe Myrtle tree, the car from which it came nowhere in sight. It seemed so out of place. If there had been a car in the driveway, hood up, tools scattered about, I might not have noticed it at all. If the driveway and sidewalk was wet with leaking water and coolant, it would have made perfect sense to see this detached piece of a car. But here it stood, all alone. Some people seem out of place. In divisive times, they are peacemakers. In frightening times, they are brave. In overwhelming times, they bring hope. In dark times, they bring light. In hate-filled times, they bring love. The writer of the letter to the Hebrews discussed such “out of place” people. After naming the famous ones who lived in such a way, they move to the unnamed. After describing their exploits and sufferings, we read these words, “They went about in skins of sheep and goats, destitute, afflict

  For some reason, as I walked toward this piece of furniture awaiting pickup by the city, I thought of C.S. Lewis and his story. For a moment I wondered if I opened the door and stepped in if I would magically appear in another place or time. That thought is at once exciting and frightening. The known is, well, known. That is why change is hard for us as individuals, churches and societies. But we live in a world of constant, rapid change. How can we navigate these times? How can we weather the changes that come to us, whether we like them or not? The apostle Paul gives these instructions: “Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” I like that these words acknowledge “every situation”. There are good reasons to be anxious. There are good reasons to feel overwhelmed. But even in these s

  After one of the heavy rains from a recent thunderstorm, I checked out the creek that flows through the neighborhood. Usually after such a storm, I find that the rain has washed all kinds of trash into the creek, along with assorted balls and random toys. The water level had quickly subsided, but as it did it left this interesting sign behind. I’m sure that this trail left in the current is probably an indication of some pollutant washed into the creek. Even so, it was in its own way, beautiful. It was as if someone had tried to paint a group of three parallel lines on the surface of the water, only to discover that the water was still flowing. It reminded me of my childhood and the way the teachers would draw lines on the chalkboard in order to teach us to form the letters correctly on our own “imaginary line” paper. The tool they used held multiple pieces of chalk and produced perfectly parallel lines. Well, the surface of the creek does not lend itself to perfect. It flows and rip

  I had to laugh out loud when I came upon this fellow on my morning walk. It is a welcome frog. He is all fat and happy and ready to greet all who pass his way. His eyes seemed to meet mine as I stopped to take this photograph. It was amazing how this little whimsical creature made the home seem inviting and joyful. A little thing that made a big statement. Each day our lives are filled with opportunities to act in small ways that make a big statement. We let the need for big drastic changes paralyze us. We feel overwhelmed by the scope of the world’s problems. What can one person do? This question is part of the problem. One person can do much, one little thing at a time. Jesus said, “And if you give even a cup of cold water to one of the least of my followers, you will surely be rewarded.” A cup of water. A simple act. But a small thing that conveys the biggest of things: compassion, kindness, humanity and love. What if each of us flooded our world each day with things such as these

  The neighborhood woke up this Labor Day Monday morning to all the signs of the thunderstorm that blasted through late yesterday. From random dead leaves and small sticks to huge sections of large trees, the wind certainly left its mark everywhere. But the morning air was cool and the sun was shining and people were out and about doing what they do on a holiday. Dogs were being walked, strollers were being strolled and folks were beginning to clean up. Chainsaws buzzed and leaf blowers roared and life was on its way back to normal. As far as I could see, our neighborhood was lucky. No trees fell into a house. Any loss of power was quickly restored. We were all snug in our little homes during the storm. Such moments always make me think of those who have no home in which to be snug and whose damaged homes take much more than a rake and a leaf blower. Such moments always make me think of those who do not have friends to lean on and resources to draw on. Such moments always make me grate

  With school started, the neighborhood dinosaur takes a little time off. Nothing to announce. No decorations to wear. A little lull in the responsibilities and duties of narrating the life of its family. It may just be me, but it seems that he looks relaxed and rested. Or maybe I’m just projecting. We can go from one day to the next, one responsibility to the next, one challenge to the next, without a break or rest. We can just get tired. We can worry about all that needs to be done and feel the pressure to do it all. We can grow disappointed and disillusioned with people close to us. We can run out of energy, and with it, faith and hope. Sometimes we need a little time like the neighborhood dinosaur. We need to be still. The Psalmist writes, “Be still, and know that I am God. I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth!” Be still and know. Sometimes we need to clear our schedule. Sometimes we need to let others do the work. Sometimes we need to stop even our r

  I have walked by this house countless times, but I had never seen this funny fellow before. Sitting in the shade at the foot of a tree, he appeared as if he had been up all night, had a bit too much to drink and couldn’t quite find his way home. I laughed out loud. I love that the home owner would place this fun piece of yard art so that it would be a surprise to all who might by chance notice. A little gift of laughter for the unsuspecting traveler. Such little unexpected gifts are a blessing. A call from an old friend long missed. Running into someone we know when we are in a different place far from home. Coming across an object or photograph that floods our heart with good memories. A scent or a sound that brings back to us persons we sadly said goodbye to years before and miss still. It is through such gifts we experience God and God’s desire that we live life abundantly. We read in Luke’s Gospel, “Fear not, little flock, for it is your Father's good pleasure to give you the