Lenten Reflections

Twists and Turns

On a sunny spring morning a few years ago I had a cup of coffee with Cleo Holden, a wonderful friend of ours and the executive director of Friends of Olde Downtown Garland. We shared our mutual interest in historic preservation, but also the life events that brought her to Garland from Oak Cliff, and me from Dallas. She especially wanted to know how LeAnn and I met, and as I shared our story, I found myself marveling again at the twists and turns that brought us together.

I finished with Cleo just in time to drive the 11 miles to church for the noon Holy Week service, sitting in the pew with LeAnn of course. And then I was going to rush back to the home office to do some work, but instead I found myself drawn into the quiet of the columbarium garden to walk the labyrinth.

In the meditation guide that was thoughtfully placed on the wall next to the path, I read: “As you walk (the labyrinth) today, put your mind and heart in touch with the mysteries of life and faith . . . the wonder of birth . . . the inscrutability of death . . . the unexpected twists and turns of your path. Ponder the paradox of accepting death in order to live life to its fullest . . . the way suffering and trouble are sometimes a path to joy and meaning . . . how life is a strange mixture of light and shadow.”

It’s difficult to accept – because it’s difficult to understand – that the contentment and joy I’m living now were made possible by excruciating loss. The path I was on was wonderful, but then it took a horrible, jarring turn, and the path I now walk is equally wonderful but in totally new and different ways.

As I walked the labyrinth, I couldn’t escape the sounds of children squealing in the playground down the way. There I was, contemplating the dark mysteries of life, and they were just romping in the bright, crisp sunshine.

When I finished my meditation, I walked to where I was parked, next to that same playground, and saw a little girl crying as a teacher rubbed her forehead. My prayer for her is that a bump on the playground is the only pain she will know for a long time. And, when the real twists and turns of life come, I pray she’ll learn to live the prayer that I read at the labyrinth, and that I’m still learning to live myself:

“Lord of mystery, paradox and shadowy light, teach me to walk in your ways and embrace the fullness of life.”