I often tell people I live in Mayberry, the fictional town in North Carolina that was the setting for the Andy Griffith Show in the 1960s. Anneslie is a World War I era suburban neighborhood of Baltimore comprised mostly of snug bungalows built around the original tenant, Villa Anneslie, an Italianate mansion tucked into the middle of the neighborhood. The sidewalks show their age and one must be careful not to catch a toe on a square of concrete that has been uplifted by a tree root.
I typically walk a three block, mile and a half route with our two rescue dogs. Quinn, our aging lab/border collie mix has soft black fur with a subtle brown undercoat and a graying muzzle. She is the major sniffer of the two and would inspect every blade of grass if allowed. Emmett, a much-younger orangish brown combination of pitt and cur (we think) with select white spotting and an ice-blue left eye and goldish right eye, fancies tree trunks and being in the lead. As much as it would be easier and perhaps more serene to walk without them, their companionship reminds me that walking is part of my vocation to lead others and help them experience the delight of the outdoors.
I have had some spectacular hiking experiences in my 58 years, including a majority of the national parks in our country. Some of the spectacular vistas out west and the tranquil trails deep into the wilderness have provided encounters with the God of my understanding that cannot be replicated in a church building. But I am now trying to pay closer attention to those moments of Divine encounter in the more mundane paths that I walk every day, observing with joy and gratitude the light in morning dew, or the visible impact of the unseen wind in the trees, reminding me of the quiet work of the Spirit in my surroundings. A walk can be just a walk, and many are, but as I become more intentional about my surroundings, I become more mindful of God's presence in my midst.
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