Yesterday we took a walk. We were over-saturated with work at the computer and the drafting table and needed to feel the sun on our faces. It was beautiful. There was little wind off the lake and we could hear the birds as we walked. The lake was gentle, colored like the Mediterranean instead of Lake Michigan, striated softness with the sky. The water was lapping at the rocks, a vast other-end-of-the-spectrum from all the ice we watched form and float and from which the lake created sculptures this winter. We both hungrily kept our faces to the sun, which must have looked pretty funny to passersby on Third Avenue, these two people walking face-up.
It was about 45 minutes into our walk, past the marina, past the beach, and walking in the park that we approached an older woman coming toward us. She was watching us and as she passed, with a trembly voice, she said, “Don’t let go.” We were walking, as we always do, with linked arms. We always do. Either that or we are holding hands. My mom and dad always held hands. I truly loved watching them…such a sweet gesture of love.
“Don’t let go.” I, well ok, we both, immediately teared up. It was one of those reminders…to hold onto the moment…to cherish it…to cherish holding and being held. Both so important. Vitally important.
Tonight I will lead the Taize service. This is what I will talk about. Not letting go. Grasping onto each and every ordinary thing as if your life depended on it. Because actually, it does.
a track from my album THIS PART OF THE JOURNEY: YOU HOLD ME