Of Wet Walks and Signposts

We’ve not done the ‘wet walk’ for weeks, so Dusty and I slipped out of the house just after 7 and headed for the castle. 

The wet walk used to include many pauses along the way, at every small loch and bubbling burn so that I could pitch sticks into the water for this manic dog who would race down the bank and leap into the water to retrieve it. She had a habit of waiting for the second stick to be thrown before she launched herself, so that she could round up two sticks at a time and bring them back.

Past tense because now, at 13, she is more sedate in her approach to the water. There are no more wild flings into the loch, more like gentle wades, though she does still enjoy the water and could seemingly continue to retrieve sticks until my arm went into spasm. 

During our absence from this walk the rangers have made a few improvements – straightened a pathway (was that really necessary?), and tacked up a few more signposts. Blue and red arrows, depending on the walk you want. 

The thing is, though, that I know these woods, so I went ahead and ignored the new signpost. A few hundred yards later, another signpost appeared anyway, though I wasn’t on the officially designated path anymore. I guess the ranger realized there would be some rebellious types who would ignore the first arrows but might just be grateful for a second guide to indicate the way out of the woods.

Made me think of God. He gives us all signposts on the road of life. Some are subtle, some are in your face. Since he gives us free choice, we are all able to ignore their guidance and strike out in our own direction. But even when we do rebel and do our own thing, he meets us in the midst of that and gently indicates the best path for us. However many times we go against the arrows, he will still be found on whatever path we take, ‘recalculating’ the best route for us. And if we end up in the mire with no signposts in sight, we just need to look up and he’ll be there.

Some of us do our own things for years and years; others of us join in on God’s path earlier on. But whichever way we’ve chosen to take, he loves each of us so much he continues to slip ahead of us and plant another signpost, hoping that perhaps this time, the errant heart will follow.

Seeing myself as others see me

What a humbling and rather gruelling thing it is to watch yourself speak. I’ve winced and contorted whenever I’ve heard my voice on an answer machine in the past – surely I can’t sound that bad, can , I? But now I can watch myself in full Technicolor giving the time for reflection to the Scottish Parliament last Wednesday. 

You can watch it too.

www.scottish.parliament.uk/newsandmediacentre/41529.aspx

I never knew I looked so serious. I thought I smiled at a couple of light-hearted comments. But no. No wonder nobody laughed. 

I never knew I spoke so slowly. I thought I was punchier. Showed a bit of life. But no, a very serious delivery.

I’m sure much of that is down to nerves. I didn’t feel overly nervous, but when I watch it now, I recognize the signs. 

It’s one thing to be able to stand up and share a few words in public. It’s another to be able to do it in a relaxed, chatty, accessible way. Of course, I couldn’t be too relaxed and certainly couldn’t be chatty as I had to stick to the script, which had been approved. And I only had four minutes, max.

I remember my classmate Mike Lipson, student body president at Millikan High School in Long Beach the year we graduated. He had to have his speech for the Baccalaureate service approved prior to giving it, but then he launched into an attack on school dress codes instead. For his crime, he was banned from walking through our graduation ceremony a week later – and graduation ceremonies in the States are a big deal. It was the scandal of the year for the class of ’69.

I wonder if anyone was reading along with my words on Wednesday, and if the microphone would have gone dead or I’d have been stripped of my right to vote had I digressed significantly from what was approved.

I don’t know, but I do know that although I can spout off with some rebellious opinions between the four walls of my home, I never really seriously considered embracing the moment of exposure to rant on about some cause or other. I never felt remotely tempted to write an alternative reflection to deliver instead. I’m just not really a rebel.

Or at least, that’s not the way I see myself. I wonder how God sees me.