The beach is scattered with Christmas trees lying there naked and unadorned in the sand. Some are at the ocean’s edge while others were thrown in the sand dunes. Some have tinsel hanging from them as the last remnants of what they used to be. None stand any more but are on their sides, a sad testament to the “glad tidings of comfort and cheer” that they represented.
The idea is that the sand will engulf them as it blows against their branches building up the dunes and creating a tiny beach refurbishment effort.
I run between them looking at the train that the sun has painted on sea, a golden sidewalk that ends at my feet. It’s as if I believed that I could walk on water then God is surely inviting me to do so. Take a left run on the blazing yellow water and straight into the eye of God.
For years I loved morning runs with sunrises that lead to the golden sidewalk. There were times when I would just stop and stand there staring at its brilliance, trying to discern the messages that were being sent.
“What God? Am I doing the right stuff and this is affirmation? Or am I really screwing up and you’re inviting to just run away from it all? You want to demonstrate that I’m in over my head when I submerge?”
There have been a few times when I was “Running with the Dolphins” and they would hit God’s golden sidewalk and leap into the air; straight up and then return in the exact same hole in the water that they made when they jumped towards the heaven. It took my breath away and I remember just staring with my hands on my knees, breathing hard and saying the most holiest of prayers.
Oh My God!
I am struck by the contrast of the discarded symbols of peace on earth and goodwill towards men and God’s golden sidewalk on the water. I leap over one of the trees that are in front of me as I run. What was an invitation a few days ago is now an obstacle.
All of those years working with homeless people, the sick, the uninsured and the addicted led to this cynicism about the holiday season. From Thanksgiving to Christmas Day it seemed like everyone in the world cared. They came, they gave and they loved.
The day after Christmas was another story.
And the shelters were filled with manger scenes, plastic Santa’s and trees that had been delivered with fanfare and promises of Joy to the World. But there was no longer any joy. Everyone had left. Except the same broken people who had been there before the Spirit caught everyone up (which evidently last for about a month before the Spirit lets them all down again).
The discarded trees make me think these thoughts.
Then I look at the golden sidewalk again and wonder if it is God’s way of still extending the invitation while everybody else is getting rid of Christmas until next year. Is this an invitation to walk on the water and demonstrate that, if we want, miracles can occur all year long?
These are funny thoughts to have on a morning run.
“Happier New Year,” a friend of mine wished my yesterday. It is someone that I haven’t talked to in some time. I appreciated the way she said it though. “Happier New Year” acknowledges that the last one wasn’t so great.
So here I am running into a new year, jumping over the discarded remnants of the past, leaping towards the sky and new love, wondering if I have what it takes to say, “Damn it all! I’m taking a left and going to do my best to make it to the eye of God before I sink”!
It’s only water.
The worst that can happen is I get baptized.
By God.
