“I remember the days of old; I meditate on all
Your accomplishments;
I reflect on the work of Your hands. I spread out my hands to You;
My soul longs for You, like a weary land. Selah.”
Tapping me on the shoulder, Google photo whispers, “Perspective, perspective.” “I feel thin, sort of stretched, like butter scraped over too much bread,” Bilbo says. A good description of the feeling these days. A new prescription is necessary for this short-sightedness. Like a person hiking through a tunnel between two gardens; I forget the beauty behind and the glories ahead.
My wife was exhausted. Caring for her mom 24/7. It was time for our traditional 3- day getaway. With guilt and relief, we left her mom in the care of her brother. Sipping Stone Brewing’s Berliner Weiss we were no longer in So Cal. The air is hot and the cobblestones vibrate as heat radiates upward. Aside from the Rhine the only place that looks cool is beneath the umbrellas. The girl in the dirndl dress brings you a stein. That first sip… Then you realize the tour guide has moved on to the next beer in the flight.
Rioting, looting, a global pandemic, school closures and day-to-day stressors had us ready for a road-trip come summer of 2020. It’s California; the only way to book a hotel is as an ‘essential worker.’ We head to Arizona. There I sit on a wood park bench facing Whiskey Row. Book in hand, I stretch out on that lazy summer evening. Reading, resting and intermittently watching a lightning storm shoot across the sky.
The lightning flashes fade too easily. The brushing breeze,
the soul-rest and the wonder are forgotten. A dry space inside the tunnel. A parched
place, a weary land. The call is to remember that this moment in it’s weariness
(oh, wastefulness) is momentary. We have those snapshots from both sides of the
tunnel. The marvels that were and the glories to follow.
