Kick, Skitter, Skitter, Skip

This morning, as I walked the prayer labyrinth at Crossroads United Church of Christ, I paused to watch a girl in the parking lot just on the other side of the trees.  She was headed to school, backpack slung over her shoulder, and she was kicking a rock across the pavement.

Kick, skitter, skitter, skip.

Kick, skitter, skitter, skip.

I smiled.  How many times had I played that game?  How many rocks had I kicked down the sidewalk on the way to and from school when I was a kid?

Some things are timeless like that.

As long as there are rocks, kids will be kicking them down the street.

We are encouraged to bring a rock, or a stone, or a shell even with us as we walk the labyrinth, a symbol of something we are trying to let go of, to give back to God.  And when we reach the center of the labyrinth, we leave it there.

Since the labyrinth first opened to the public a few months ago, the center of the labyrinth now has a healthy collection of stones, shells and marbles.  The pile has become a cairn, a memorial to those things that distract us, both big and small, and keep us separated from God.

I wonder, of course, if that stone the girl was kicking across the parking lot this morning had any meaning to her.  Was she angry at someone?  Had there been no milk for her cereal?  Did her brother leave without giving her a ride?  Or was she just bored.

She was certainly in no hurry.

Which reminded me of a word that has been popping in my head a lot this Lenten season—linger.

Don’t be in such a rush.

Linger over things.

Read more slowly.

Stop and identify the birds.

Listen to the mockingbird sing.

This morning, at the Wetlands, I almost drove right past a Crested Caracara because I thought it was just another vulture sitting on the side of the road devouring roadkill.

But I startled it, just the crunch of the gravel beneath my tires and when it turned to me, I saw that familiar Toucan-like bill and I stopped immediately.

I couldn’t get a clear picture of it through the open window, though, so I put the car in park, turned it off and opened the door, slowly.

The caracara jumped and hopped back from the fish it was shredding.

I held still, my hand still on the door.

The caracara settled and went back to eating.

I took a step out of the car and heard another car pull up behind me.  They were not going to be happy that I was blocking the road, but I wasn’t going to miss this chance.

I held up my camera to the caracara and starting taking pictures.

The sun was in my eyes.

I couldn’t even see if the caracara was in focus.

I didn’t care.

I took a hundred pictures.  If one turned out okay, that would be enough.

When I was finished, I got back in the car and pulled off to the side, slowly, trying to give the car behind me a view of the caracara.  If they were serious bird watchers too, they’d appreciate it.

But once again, I got too close, and this time the caracara took off, flying into the sky.

Linger.

Don’t be in a hurry.

Most things in life are so fleeting.

Cherish the seconds you have.