Labyrinth

It takes about four miles of hiking to get my brain to rest. I finally stop running lists and for the four miles back my brain can wander to more fun places, like singing Long Black Veil in response to the wild winds.

Hiking is good for my brain, but the labyrinth is good for my heart. 

The church has a beautiful Chartres labyrinth we lay out in the sanctuary through Lent. It was created about six or seven years ago by a whole host of folks connected with the church and each experienced the process as a slightly different metaphor.

People can get a little freaky about labyrinths and their role in one's faith journey. I'm not a freak about it. I am a freak about many things, but this isn't one of them.

The labyrinth is a lovely metaphor for life grounded in God's grace. There are no dead ends or wrong turns; there are twists and turns but ultimately you end up in the middle where you can rest and delight in a warming sun beam. 

We had sun this year beaming into the middle of the labyrinth so it was especially delightful. We also had a crew of kids who enjoyed putting obstacles on the path, but it fit the metaphor well so I rarely picked them up. 

The funny thing this year is my beloved son found a mistake. 

There was a curve that missed getting drawn so a whole section of the labyrinth had been cut off. 

I've walked the thing over a hundred times and never noticed. It got fixed and was kind of a hoot this year to wander into places unexplored. 

And again a lovely metaphor because I feel that way in my life. 

I've gotten to wander into this unexplored territory being married to law enforcement. That's been a whole new reality and adjustment. There are teenagers in my house preparing to leave my home and venture on their own. That's a new adventure. Then there's these flashes of heat and irritation that leave me opening windows and snapping at things I've long ignored. I'm not sure what to call that.

When I feel discombobulated, I just keep imagining how all those unexplored sections are still grounded in and leading to grace. 

That metaphor lets my heart rest.