I went on a walk and the wind walked with me.
It really did.
Whenever I’d pass a tall old tree, or an overgrown thicket of green, or a well-rooted curb of bushes, they would sing to me.
It was as if those old oaks and leaves were trying to croak out the truth. It was as if they were trying to reach out to my decrepit, winter-stone soul. It felt like they wanted me to know that they still had something to say worth hearing.
And this made me think of those who have gone before us, those who are still moving and breathing but feel like they aren’t contributing – all because we don’t slow down enough to lend them an ear.
But really, who’s doing all the lending?
Past generations can lend us their light, their hard-earned wisdom, their keen experience, their special insight.
A retirement-age friend of ours who works at a large company recently shared that the new, fresh-out-of-college hires came to him one day and said that they were starting up a mentoring program….a program for the new, young employees to mentor and help the older ones to “get with it.”
Are you kidding me?
That kind of immature arrogance will get you nowhere.
It’s worth it to walk with the wise and lean in to listen.
As a pastor’s wife I can tell you that ministry is a mountain.
Sometimes you’re on top of the thing. People nod and agree and appreciate.
Sometimes you’re at the base. People connive and throw insults and devalue.
Sometimes the hike is invigorating, and sometimes it saps you of everything but a thin frayed string of faith.
The mix of it can tempt one to stiff-arm people.
“Don’t let anyone too close. They’ll end up cutting you.”, is what the voice says.
And gosh, it’s just true. It costs something to care, and loving can mean losing sometimes.
But when you’re called, you’re also infused with a quiet resolve to continue.
There’s this underlying understanding that in the end, it will be worth it.
Tennessee has these flowers with purple petals that seem to grow around and beneath certain types of trees. They are particularly privy to accompanying maples.
I noticed a whole sweet stream of them on the walk I mentioned above. They’re vibrant and wild, and the orange antennas they grow contrast beautifully to their bright lilac bodies.
I stepped off the main road and trampled soggy ground to take them in. They were all opened up, soaking in every bit of rare sunshine they could. This means me and the flowers had something in common that day.
From the beaten path the buds were beautiful, but up close they were outright masterpieces.
It’s worth it to stop, stare, take-in, and savor. It makes your walk turn into an inspired one.
I’m tapping keys on a weathered, leaf-laden deck.
I’ve positioned myself square in the sunshine.
It’s freezing but I’m fine with it, as long as those beams of gold penetrate my pale dermis and fill my sun loving heart with joy again.
Today’s writing prompt is…
What are you currently considering “worth it”?