Diversion
Can we lessen the flow of another’s distress? This trail in the Shenandoah National Park starts with a steep climb. I find this surprising because I’m already high on the Blue Ridge. But it’s early in the morning, the air is cool, the sky is clear. No complaints. Up I go, stopping frequently to catch my breath. It’s during one of these stops (my hiking buddy and I, thirty years ago, called them “Wheezing Geezer” breaks, long before we each became one), I noticed the angled objects placed from time to time across the path. Some are embedded rocks. Some are logs. It’s clear that they are intended to be diverters, to sweep to the side the current from rainfall. On a steep, rocky path like this, storms could quickly turn it into an unwalkable gully. It’s not hard for me to find a metaphor in this. For as I walk and pray, I keep thinking about a person I’ve been dialoging with recently who is facing a Greek tragedy’s worth of heartache and trouble. It’s almost unbelievable. It mus...
