Walking on Water

                                           
                                               It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…
                                                                                         - Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities
                                                                
Preparations for a mid-day meeting delayed my morning walk.  By the time the meeting ended and I was free, rush hour had begun.  As I stepped onto the shared-use path a cold wind whipped my face and stung my eyes. The whoosh of speeding cars, the squealing tires and the blaring horns were added blows to my bleeding senses.  My spirit deflated like a punctured lung.  I thought of turning around for home, but then I stopped, closed my eyes, and took a moment to center myself and reclaim my purpose and my enthusiasm.  When I opened my eyes what I saw was a brilliant blue sky and puffy white clouds surrounded by haloes of gold from the setting sun.  Crisp red and orange leaves skipped across the path in front of me, and I thought to myself, it is true:  the best and the worst, they can both be present at the same time and in the same place. 

The daily news can be as jarring as the cold wind that whipped my face.  Somedays it is easy to believe that the bad news is all the news there is, that it is indeed the worst of times in a Tale of Two Countries, but then something happens that expands my focus and restores my faith.  Two such stories recently reached me. 

With all the worries about loss of essential benefits such as SNAP and healthcare amidst an affordable housing crisis and rising grocery costs, a friend sent me this story about a restaurant in Marion, Ohio where a few afternoons a week the restaurant offers free pasta dinners to families with the tag line, “Your children don’t need to know.”  Quoting the article and Bucci’s Facebook post:  Bucci’s said, “We love this community, and we’re thankful to be in a position to do something small that might make things a little easier for someone else. We can’t get through this without each other. Love you all.”

A few days later, I saw another story about a man and his two young sons who live in Whitehall, Pennsylvania.  They started a small food pantry on their front porch and received a nice donation from an anonymous donor.  The Whitehall dad said, “Making a food pantry is no different than me inviting you over to my house for dinner. Come grab a meal. Come grab a drink. Come grab what you need. I’m happy to have you.”

These stories were the medicine I needed, medicine that did not just restore my faith but invigorated it.  I was reminded that God created man and placed that man in a garden.  God saw that the man was lonely, and God created a companion for him.  God never intended for us to face life alone even in paradise.  Life was meant to be served up family style.

I want to hold onto these stories whenever I am inclined to become a doubting Thomas.  Just because there is a moment of darkness, I do not want to doubt that there is light ahead.  I am a believer, and this is the hard work of faith:  to keep believing even in the darkness, to trust in goodness even when the bad guys seem to be winning, and to act with conviction by committing ourselves to loving others with joy and enthusiasm.

There is a story in the Book of Matthew about the apostles out at night on a stormy sea.  They were far from  shore and whipped by wind and waves.  Exhausted, they looked into the darkness and they saw Jesus walking toward them on the water.   Jesus said, “Take courage. Don’t be afraid.”  I am thinking there are some folks in Marion, Ohio and Whitehall, Pennsylvania who have heard these same words from people they believe can walk on water.