Old and New

 Two walks, two days apart.

One on the Sand creek trail with the dog and a friend. One in the snow through the fields with only the dog. The look was very different, but the things I noticed had a common theme.

It has mostly been a pleasant December.

Sunday was warm and bright. Part of my walk was alone with the dog and I chose to take the north loop in the opposite direction from my usual route. The sun from behind me as I walked another way on the path made me see things differently. This tall thin tree with the bends midway up has caught my eye before, but not in the same way as it did Sunday with the afternoon sun on it. Why did the builders of the trail choose to leave that tree there? Probably for the same reason that I’m glad it’s there.

Just past this tall thin tree was a row of trees that had died some time ago, lost much of their bark, and bleached as they began their decay. The whiteness is so beautiful in an opposite, but not incongruous way to the beauty of that young tree splitting the path. 

Yesterday my path was through the fields so that the dog could safely run unleashed...something I rarely allow except in our small backyard.

When he realized his freedom, he careened around the field, sprinting through the snow with his little black dog boots keeping the ice from accumulating between his toes. There is a joy dogs express with their bodies when allowed to run until they are tired. I wish I had more pictures from this walk, but I'm also glad I just absorbed the walk.

I walked through a couple of fields, one with wheat growing bright and green right up through the stubble of last summer’s corn crop. The promise of the future growing up from soil held in place by roots of the past. The young and the old, just like the trees from Sunday's walk.

The Bible says our days are like grass. Like grass, not like trees. We move so quickly through our lives, while history stretches out long. I think about this a lot more now than I did when I was young. I want things resolved in my lifetime, but that isn’t how it works.

It’s been more than a generation since we had a pandemic like the one we are in now. If those who lived then were still with us now, would their wisdom have guided us better? Would we have listened, or disregarded their advice as old fashioned and outdated?

The Israelites were in Egypt for four hundred years. How many generations is that? What did the older people of each generation feel as they saw things had not changed for their children and grandchildren? We are at four hundred years since the stealing of land and people began the history of racism in this country. While things have changed, there is not yet justice. There is no promise that things will resolve in my lifetime.

So, what is the way toward hope? Christmas is a story of hope. It is a story of moving toward justice and mercy and grace, regardless of whether things will turn out the way we want them to within our lifetime. It includes restoration for religious leaders and fishermen and tax collectors and Samaritan women and children and soldiers and maji and shepherds and it begins with a girl saying yes to a task too big for her to understand, and so she ponders in her heart the things she hears and sees, and she sings a song about justice.

Mary chose hope, but she chose it one step at a time. I look at her life and it is so much. How could one woman do and endure so much? But she did one thing at a time. She said yes, and that led her to the next yes. Did she know when she said yes that it meant fleeing to Egypt? She didn't know any of it. She just continued, one yes at a time.

So for me, what is my next yes? In my devotions this morning the writer spoke of beginning to pray for those with whom she most disagrees. I've chosen to do that today, as both an act of hope, and a way of reducing my anxiety about what the divisions in our country mean for the future.