Walks and Whispers
We all have a story to tell ... if anybody will stop and listen.
The first time I walked at Churchich Park in Omaha many years ago, I sensed that all of us were walking or running from something – bad health, loneliness, a dying dream, a toxic home life.
The trail is flat around the park and meanders around a softball field, tennis courts and playground. The flatness is less intimidating for the broken, like me (I walk with a limp). Anybody who can walk (or push themselves in a wheelchair) can navigate her curves.
A short, elderly woman wearing a purple jogging suit slumbered toward me one day, her hand grasping her Chihuahua’s leash as he pulled her along. Her eyes met mine, which is trail code for “Please acknowledge me.” If you don’t want to be acknowledged, you avoid eye contact.
I took a chance and stopped.
“His feeties are covered in mud. Looks like he’s having the time of his life,” I said, pointing at her dog. The dog looked up at me with his head tilted as if to say, “What’s the problem?”
The woman smiled. “I think you’re right. The dirtier he is, the happier he is.”
We both knew the exchange was about more than her dog. Maybe she was lonely, so she fled her home for the walking trail. I could be wrong, of course. Maybe she just really needed to walk her dog. But I have to tell you, I trust the code.
During another walk at the park, a soccer player stayed off the walking trail, dribbling the ball in the grass next to the trail – probably partially as a courtesy and partially because soccer fields aren’t made for cement. Apparently, he was trying to get in or stay in soccer-playing shape. I got the feeling he was running from stagnancy – not wanting to give up on a dream.
An elderly man who was out walking his dog on the trail one day tipped his cap at me as we passed. Not enough people tip their cap anymore. I felt like I was in Mayberry, and I mean that in the best way possible.
As I made my laps one day, I saw a teenage girl with the arm of Derek Jeter throw out an adult man at first base from the shortstop position during a softball game.
More than once, somebody significantly older passed me on the track. I didn’t feel any shame over that. We were all walking for different reasons. I wasn’t in a race with anybody.
Over the years, I saw fathers and sons playing catch, fathers pitching to their kids, middle-aged people playing tennis, families navigating the playground, young men playing basketball with no thought of waking up with sore knees or stiff backs, twenty-somethings playing softball, and forty-somethings attempting to play softball.
I was constantly reminded that each of us carries our own stories, struggles, and dreams. In the quiet moments of passing glances, brief conversations, and shared spaces, there was a sense of unspoken solidarity. Though I’ve moved away, the memories of those walks linger – a beautiful tapestry of humanity. In those fleeting moments of acknowledgment, we found a sense of belonging, and perhaps that was the true beauty of the park.
Here are some tidbits you might find interesting this week:
As spotted online: “By replacing your morning coffee with green tea, you can lose up to 89% of what little joy you still have left in your life.” For tea lovers, it’s just a joke! For coffee lovers, we ride at dawn!
“I like old bookstores, the smell of coffee brewing, rainy day naps, farmhouse porches, and sunsets; simple things that remind me that life doesn’t have to be complicated to be beautiful.” -Brooke Hampton
Sara Hagerty has made a chapter from her audio book “The Gift of Limitation: Finding Beauty in Your Boundaries” available for free. If you are in a place of grief right now, check it out.
“The reflective life is a way of living that prepares the heart so that something of eternal significance can be planted there.” -Ken Gire
When Lee isn’t writing essays, devotional books, or Christian fiction, he is a freelance editor, as well as a freelance journalist who has written hundreds of articles for various newspapers and magazines. He’s also a fan of NASCAR, baseball, tennis, books, movies and coffee shops.
I had been doing research and had jotted down this sentence, “The stories of their (the elderly) lives are often under-told and under-read.” (Bruce Stevens). Then my timer told me it was time for a break, and Substack showed me your subtitle on my Lock Screen: “we all have a story to tell: if anybody will stop and listen.” How’s that for serendipity?!