Some St. Mary (Eugene) parishioners will remember Zoe Bartlett. She died a few years ago at just 14 years of age. Zoe had some developmental disabilities and, even into her teenage years, enjoyed leaving the church on Sunday morning for the Children’s Liturgy of the Word (aimed at those who were pre-readers through 5th grade). As I mentioned at her funeral, Zoe was uniquely without pretense, she was as real as real gets, all the time. There was nothing fake about her, ever; that was both good and bad because she was radically honest in all circumstances. Well, one Sunday morning I went with the children to their Liturgy and the other priest stayed in church to offer the Mass. As I was making my way to the parish center with the kids, Zoe looked at me and asked, “Can we hold hands?” I said, “Sure Zoe, I’d love to.” And then, moments later, as we made our way through the parish courtyard, Zoe asked, “Fr. Mark, do you want to skip?” I knew she wasn’t asking to skip the Liturgy, as in duck out and do something different. She was asking to move in a light springy manner . . . bounding forward . . . well, you know how to do it by now. My first reaction was to look into the parish center where the people from the previous Mass were sharing coffee and donuts. I was anxious about what the adults there would think about their pastor skipping across the courtyard. But then it hit me: who cares what they think? Zoe just asked me to skip with her! And so we did. And I felt free . . . like a child . . . a feeling which I hadn’t had for a very long time. When we got to the Liturgy, I thanked Zoe for the gift of skipping together and she said, “No. Thank God!”
So, all of that came rushing back to me atop Beaver Hill on Day 20 (Monday). I was praying by name for all the children I could call to mind (it helps if I do it alphabetically) and, when I got to Z, Zoe was on top of the list. At that moment I thought, “What would it be like to skip again?” So I did! It was a little less “light and springy” than I remember; and it was awkward with a weighty pack on my back. But skip I did. It might have looked more like stumbling than skipping, but skipping was really in my heart. At that moment, a big log truck came roaring up the hill. My initial thought was, “What will the driver think, seeing this 50-year old guy skipping down Highway 101?” Then it hit me (again): who cares what he thinks? My friend Zoe taught me how to skip like a child again and I’ll never be embarrassed to do it . . . anywhere. Even Beaver Hill, in Coos County, on the Oregon Coast. Thank God!
What makes the remembrance of Zoe all the more special is that I was wearing my Life Teen t-shirt which says: Be Bold. Be Faithful. Be Original. Be Catholic. Thank God for all of that, too.
There are moments when a particular sunset appears to be just like all other sunsets, when beach vistas appear to be very similar, and when one forest doesn’t look much different from any other forest (for all of these, see the post on Grandma’s Wisdom). I was disheartened on Monday when I encountered an Oregon Department of Transportation worker who was sitting in a car on the shoulder of the highway. She rolled down her window to make a comment. She said, “Why are you hiking here? This is so boring.” The comment was disheartening because she obviously has never seen the area going three miles per hour. There are no two trees exactly alike, there are no two shrubs exactly alike, there are no two birds exactly alike . . . and you never know when a doe and her fawn will come out of nowhere to offer a surprise blessing . . . you never know when an eagle will soar over your head . . . you never know when flowers will explode with color. I wanted to say to the ODT worker, “Boring? Can you be serious? Try this at 3 miles per hour.” Instead, I said, “Have a blessed day!” And I meant it.
The Coquille River Basin
The Coquille River Bridge
(the Osprey Nest is More Impressive!)
Grand Prize Winner
(What Nature can do with a Ditch!)
The Osprey seen today (too fast to get a photo) reminded me of the number of Turkey Vultures spotted over the past two weeks. Vultures look graceful in flight, but are not the prettiest birds when seen close up. They have a habit of showing up when the daily miles reach double-digits and walkers are more tired than usual. I pointed this out to my sister Paula and she suggested that they might be circling in on what they think is prey. So we agreed to move our arms rapidly to convince them "we're still alive!"
Tomorrow: Bandon and Port Orford ROCK!
Turkey vultures certainly are beauty of a different kind: a little odd, a little menacing; but graceful in flight. Keep those arms moving rapidly!
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