Anatomy of an Evening Walk

Open your eyes. Open your ears. Slow down.

This was the prescription for tonight's walk. I didn't bring a driving beat to encourage exertion - this was not a power walk. I didn't bring a sermon or podcast to "redeem the time" - this time was already redeemed.

Open your eyes.

The sunshine tonight had that special evening quality; more golden than midday, providing a warmth separate from the surrounding cool air, casting long shadows. The Rims were shining golden and green as I walked toward them, and the robin's breast flamed bright as it flew overhead. On my left I passed a grandfather showing his young grandson how to change a tire. The little boy, wearing a safari hat, bounced up and down and shifted this way and that, not unlike the bird I saw hopping through the grass, or the cottontails that scampered across the road. (I counted at least 8 of those.) One mailbox was surrounded by friendly daisies; another by vibrant purple irises. Instead of just walking past generic "trees," I looked at an aspen, a maple, an oak. I saw a pine tree blooming, if that's what you call it when the cones are forming in fresh yellow clusters. The waxing moon looked hardly more substantial than a cloud in the still-light sky.

Open your ears.

Rimrock Road is closed to through traffic, so as I headed Rim-ward above it, the streets were more than usually silent. Silent enough for me to hear. Crickets were chirping in the grass. Birds were singing their hearts out. I listened to the mourning doves and thought about my grandparents, whose small North Dakota town is intimately associated in my mind with the sound of doves. (The result of many summer evenings and mornings in childhood lying alone in the tent camper in their back yard.) I listened to the thoughts in my own head.

Slow down.

I am a fast walker. Ever since I was a 14-year-old with short legs trailing all 6-foot-5 of Benji Boyd through the swamps of the Lord's Boot Camp (Teen Missions, Int'l), I have been a fast walker. Tonight I wore flip-flops, intending to stroll. I still started out too fast, but as I opened my eyes and opened my ears, I slowed down. There was so much to see, so much to hear. In fact, eventually I slowed to a stop. Tears came to my eyes as I smelled the lilacs and looked and listened at a world so beautiful that, as Lucy Pevensie might say, it would break your heart.

"Why," said I, "was it so sad?"
"Sad! No, " said Lucy.