Prayer Walks: You never know what life, your feet, and faith, will bring you

I love to walk, to feel the blood pump through my legs and fresh air fill my lungs.

In warmer months, that happens in a T-shirt and shorts. In mid-December, with daytime temperatures in the mid-20s (F), that means warm socks, thick fleece pants, gloves, a sweater and a warm coat.

And lately, I combine the physical exercise with spiritual nourishment via recordings on my iPhone: maybe a monk reading from the Psalter, or Orthodox prayers chanted in Byzantine style by Eikona (http://www.eikona.com/prayers-for-orthodox-christians/), or podcasts from Ancient Faith Radio (https://www.ancientfaith.com).

Sure, I could walk on a treadmill in a nice warm Planet Fitness gym (I do have a free membership through AARP). But I like to feel like I'm actually going somewhere -- in both a linear and metaphysical sense.

Which (finally, thanks for waiting) brings me to the theme of this entry: You never know what life your feet, and faith, will bring you.

On Wednesday, for example, I was doing my few miles on the Jordan River Parkway when I came upon a young woman, in her late teens I would guess, sitting hunched over on the side of the trail. As I got closer, I could see the sadness, that look of hopelessness.

We've all been there. And we all remember how it feels. You look at the cold, gray skies -- and in this case the snow-covered Wasatch Mountains rising in the east -- and watch your breath as a wreath of mist, its warmth and hope gone before you can inhale again.

I couldn't just walk by. I mean, I probably could have done . . . but, for crying out loud, I had just heard a homily about the Good Samaritan through my earphones seconds earlier.

So . . . "Are you all right?" I asked, and tried to smile disarmingly. Shouldn't be too hard for a 66-year-old, gray-haired and -silver bearded, bundled up grandpa with a walking staff.

When she turned to look at me, her eyes were swollen, red, wet. "I live over there," she waived toward a residential treatment facility about a quarter-mile away. "I just needed some time to . . .", and her voice trailed off.

I stayed quiet. She looked back up. "I'm missing my parents. I can't reach them. I don't know how they are. They don't know how I am."

Loneliness is the worst, especially this time of year, when Christmas is so hyped as a time for love, gifts and everything bright, yada yada yada.

So, I told her to try to look at herself, from outside herself. "This feels awful now, but life changes, sometimes every time we just stop and look around. I get up, walk, sleep, and get up, and it's changed. Always. Sometimes not much and not for what seems a long time, but sometimes, you realize what hurt so much is yesterday, and today is new."

There was a glance of hope, or at least interest. She was listening for more.

"I lost both my parents this year. Just me and my sister left, and she's almost a thousand miles away," I shared. "I miss them very much, but I pray for them every day, and I know they pray for us."

I suggested that there are people who care about her, too. They may pray for her, they may think of her with love and concern, and that, too, is a prayer of sorts.

But we are not alone. Hope finds a way, and faith helps guide it within us.

"Things will get better, sooner or later. Trust it will, and until then, just do what you need to do to get where you need to be. God bless your day, young lady."

She nodded, sniffed, and seemed to calm a bit. "Thank you, sir." She took my hand and squeezed. We both smiled, and I resumed my trek.

Half an hour later, as I returned on the way home, she was gone. I whispered a prayer for God's mercy and protection for her.

And I wondered, had I done enough? I may never know the answer to that question.

What I did know, however, was that or this senior citizen, the day had a purpose.

Want to change a cynical, ethically and morally bankrupt world? First, change yourself

It’s getting tough to write blogs.

Oh, not because there’s not enough fodder, if political, moral, ethical or any other kind of outrage is what you are into.

There’s plenty of all that. 

In fact, there is way, way too much. It is downright depressing.

So much so, that if you think about it for any amount of time, you just might — in your deepest, darkest moments — wish for an extinction-level meteor event.

You know, give the cockroaches a chance.

Currently, a coarse, crude, egomaniacal billionaire has the Republican presidential selection process in what likely will prove to be a politically fatal spiral to banality. 

The Democrats, meanwhile, offer us either a candidate who lies as easily as a snake hisses, has no integrity, and who flip-flops on her so-called “deeply held beliefs” — abortion, gay marriage, capitalism, the War on Terror, immigration, the environment, you name it — depending on which way the political winds blow . . . or a self-described “democratic socialist.”

At least the socialist, in this case, is consistent and honest about his beliefs, however historically bankrupt they may be.

Then, there are the questionable, unending wars and civil conflicts we dive into, only to learn we have been on the wrong sides, or at least ones where we should not have destabilized nation states inherited by fanatic, murderous Islamic extremists who now persecute millions, slaughter thousands, and ultimately threaten billions.

We are, as a nation, morally bankrupt. We do not admit that; rather, we simply redefine what morality is, rather than confronting what we once commonly agreed was immoral.

Ethics — in business, government, even in religious bodies — has become situational at best, and arguably a massive illusion of self-deception, rendering the concept of proper behavior to nothingness.

One can despair.

But perspective is all. We can only control ourselves, our own actions. 

If we value morality and ethics, let it begin at home — how we treat our spouses, children, and grandchildren — and then shine as a rarity in the workplace, and certainly in our friendships.

If we are to lament the state of the world and its leaders, we need to be the kinds of leaders, friends, parents, workers, and human beings we would like to see.

Finally, but ultimately the key to it all, there’s faith.

If we believe we are, indeed, God’s children, time to stop playing the prodigal, and return to what we know in our hearts is true, good, and faithful to the Love that redeems us.

Want to change the world? And it needs changing, oh yes. 

Well, start with the person you see in the mirror — or reflected in the eyes of a child.