Trust
In the old Tarzan films you see the poorly verbalized but nevertheless wise hero thrust himself from one steady position to the promise of another by means of a non-tethered but sturdy vine. Conveniently, the vine seems waiting to become the host for the journey to a new destination either away from the dangers that seem to invade the old or toward one that surely guarantees yet another intriguing adventure. The reasonable props for the execution of the dramatic move must be a hefty element of trust in the reasonable safety and security of the vine along the journey and faith that the destination location will sustain the weight of the landing. Leaving the old and arriving at the precipice of the new has within it elements of excitement, fear, revelation, and grief. As the host to (unwilling or not) the dwelling of various Parkinson’s symptoms, this not so agile (hero?) one grasps the vine with all his strength for the journey to a new adventure. The location is still the forest, but the vista is changing as the light of an adjusted pathway is illuminated. Gratitude remains the cover that blankets the footing from the old to the new and a thankful heart beats to the call of discovery.
The rain pummeled the canvas top of the Jeep as we rose over hills and through the valleys from southern Virginia to the New Jersey shore. An evening stopover south of Baltimore, gave a respite to an otherwise grueling nine hour journey. We talked, we reminisced, and we expressed our gratitude for opportunities of experiences both easy and challenging that we have been provided through the years. A brief detour through the old neighborhood we used to call home in rural Delaware County, Pennsylvania stoked the fires of memories past in preparation for a weekend of renewal and reconnection with dear friends from years ago. Ocean Grove, New Jersey is like no other place. It is dotted with Victorian residences interspersed with summer camp meeting huts and their attached tents. A centerpiece of the town is the great tabernacle built in the late 1800’s. The tabernacle itself seats ten thousand people and has been a magnet for worship services and religious concerts for more than a century. Thornley Chapel on the square, attached to the modest police station, offered the perfect setting for our worship and learning sessions. Minds were challenged and hearts were touched as we listened and observed and enjoyed the fellowship with friends old and new during mealtime or in the rockers on the front porch of the guest house. The time was short, but the connections were deep and meaningful and gave more than ample inspiration that lifted our spirits all the way home. I’m reminded that even a momentary touch can be the spark that ignites healing. Though rain and wind littered our way, the Spirit of hope, trust, and thankfulness was our companion for the ride. With those divine ingredients we knead the dough of faith to watch it rise and sustain us for today’s journey.