Daily Grace, Presence

Masks

July 13, 2020

I don’t understand why so many people are upset about being required to wear protective face masks in public. It is baffling.

Wearing a mask is a simple act of love.

I wrote an entire post that I’ve decided not to share. I was angry. It was judgmental. Although, if I do say so myself, it was kind of clever.

It was clever! But it was mean.

I don’t want to be mean.

Instead, I’m just going to say that I’m thinking a lot about masks. It’s a positive sign that the President was finally spotted wearing one. But it was only because he was visiting a hospital, apparently. He said that while masks are appropriate sometimes, they are not necessary at all times.

Which sort of sounds like it is good to be caring and conscientious sometimes, but not all the time.  Sometimes, I guess, it is OK not to care?

I think I might be sliding into negativity again. I just deleted another three sentences of rant.

So friends, let’s wear our masks. Let’s look after the least of these: the elderly, the immunocompromised.  Let’s picture Jesus walking toward us, and think about whether or not he’d be wearing a mask.

It’s not that hard.

It’s just a simple act of love.

 

 

 

 

 

Daily Grace, Presence

Walking by the Train Tracks

June 15, 2020

This train passed us on our walk. Forgive me if the graffiti offends. I’m not even sure what it says.

Whenever my kids and I are out for a walk around the cemetery loop, and we are on the part which parallels the railroad tracks, sometimes we are lucky enough to have a train go by. Always when this happens, if the train is close, I stop my walking and stand by the tracks and listen as the train slowly chug chug chugs up the hill. I wait, and I wait, and then I wave to the engineer, like I’ve seven-years-old again. Sometimes he sees me. Sometimes he doesn’t. I’m always crazy happy if he waves.

My mom sometimes told a story about how I used to scream and fuss when I was little, not much older than a toddler, when we were out in the car and a train would pass by.  Apparently, I cried because I desperately wanted to go for a ride. Once when I was in the back seat with my sweet grandpa, he saw a train coming before I did (much to the relief of all the adults in the car), and he did his best to distract me before I even noticed it.  I think I actually might remember this. Or maybe I just heard the story so many times that I created the memory?

“Look, Robin! Look over there!” he said, and I turned and looked out his window as the train passed by on the other side.

These days, I pause and watch as the train rumbles by.  That’s one good thing about being a grown up, I guess. No one to distract you, to make you look the other way. My kids and I were out on a walk today, and a train went by, and I stopped in the sun and waved, and the engineer had his window open, and he waved back.