Wednesday, October 19, 2011


I donned a “Tigger” sweat-shirt about six last night and, in spite of an overcast sky, headed down the road toward the park. My hour of exercise, lately, has been neglected too much, the weather changing, other events more important at the time, excuse, excuse, excuse, and the wind, on this occasion, with a bit of a chill to it, making me wonder if perhaps a hoodie might no have been a better choice. Turning in the back entrance where a dirt trail follows the creek, I have about two hundred feet where the trees on either side form a “tunnel” with their branches, much of their foliage already brown, dead, scattered here, there, everywhere. Indeed, as I continue, stepping into the openness, going past the fenced-in area where people can let their dogs run, over the bridge and taking the concrete path south past shelters, picnic tables, playgrounds, and ball field, everywhere before me the view is as if Autumn, herself, has decorated for Halloween. On the return trip an icy dribble begins to fall and a rumble in the heavens interrupts my thoughts, increasing my pace in order to get home before dark. It has been about an hour alone with Him… Prayer, for me, is more an all-day mental relationship wherein I return, at some point, to an oasis, or at least a place of expectancy, a position of hope that therein I might actually “step into the stream” and, for a few moments, know Him in all that He is. Such encounter is the goal before me at all times whether I am kneeling in some secluded location, speaking with someone of His reality in regard to whatsoever, or participating in congregational worship within the sanctuary. Let’s just be truthful, though: Life is mostly a stumble down the path, vision usually a matter of “looking through a glass darkly,” and that means communication needs to be an open connection, not a cell phone kept in my hip pocket for an emergency……


  1. Tony said:
    Thank God for park trails, bike trails and roads less traveled. I am no Eric Liddell and I cannot honestly say God made me fast but "when I run, I feel His pleasure" and God regularly meets me along the way. Funny to be able to get lost in Him while sweating it out on the trail. But then that sounds a lot like the gospel to me.

  2. It's been so long since anyone commented here, Tony, I'm not sure I remember how to do it myself. Still enjoying the service Wednesday. It's a little too wet right now to tackle the park again. See you Sunday.....jim