I have some favourite walks. The half mile of road that stretches from my house to the local Presbyterian church building, I have tramped since I was old enough to put one leg past the other. It's not a busy road and it takes about 25 minutes at a brisk pace to do it both ways. The family dogs take a whole lot longer as there are numerous scents to check out and posts and trees at which to make a brief stop every few minutes. It's a road that I know has been walked by my ancestors many times, sometimes going to church or visit a neighbour, nut often just as a Sunday afternoon amble.
But an equally satisfying walk is alongside the Callan river that winds its way through the local fields on its journey to meet the Blackwater. This is the sort of walk I often undertake when I need time to think or to talk to myself, for it is a solitary dander, often punctuated with stops to view the wildlife on its banks or to glimpse at another world just across the river. Occasionally I will just walk to one particular spot on the river bank and sit for ages, only bothered by the odd curious cow, whose conversation is fairly limited. Sometimes, when the river overflows, the fields become partial lakes so for a while the view is transformed and the path I choose to tread requires more care.
I love the walks in the local country park, early in the morning but especially after the sun has set, when the paths are almost deserted save nightime creatures like ourselves. The lake is still and shimmering, almost like a sheet of glass and the heron that has found a home there, skims gracefully over the surface before perching elegantly on a distant branch. The golf course is equally lonely with the last of the enthusiasts making their way to the nineteenth hole. Many of the walks are darkened by trees even when the sun is on full power, but on an evening of fast fading light, strange shadows appear all along the route and the noise of the night animals coupled with the silence left by the day dwellers changes the atmosphere to one of remoteness and isolation. With us, this walk is never an amble, being more of a necessity to retain some level of fitness in our bodies as our age had long since moved out of single figures, so it is seldom a time to stop and appreciate the beauty around but often a chance to discuss the events of the day. How strange too, that as daylight fades away, so does the colour and the world becomes a much more grey place to live.
As I grew up, walking was a major part of my life at secondary school. Walking down the lane to catch the morning bus, walking from the bus depot to school and often, in the evenings, when sport practice required me to stay late, walking the mile or so home from the last bus stop. Often on Saturday, after a school rugby match, when dad was away at the market and no other car was at home, I would always make my way through town and out into the country on foot, heading for home, eight miles away and hoping that my extended tight thumb might be spotted by a thoughtful passing motorist, who would then help to shorten my journey. Sometimes I was lucky and one lift might bring me within a mile of my destination. Other times I might be dependent on three or four lifts to travel the same distance and once or twice my good fortune completely deserted me and I had to make the long trek home completely on foot. It's not a method I would advise nowadays but then, even at the height of the Troubles, when religious and political suspicions ran high, there seemed to be a greater general trust in individuals and a willingness to help anyone, so I never doubted my safety for a moment.
The book of Genesis tells us that Noah and Enoch both walked with God during their lives. What a lovely affirmation of a person's relationship with their Lord for you can't get closer to someone than when walking with them and when you're that close, you're more likely to hear everything they say, even when they are only whispering. That's where I want to be, walking with God everyday, so that I never miss a word when He chooses to speak to me. The prophet Micah says that God requires us to 'walk humbly with your God.' And the great thing about walking with God is that we travel at the pace He chooses.
But an equally satisfying walk is alongside the Callan river that winds its way through the local fields on its journey to meet the Blackwater. This is the sort of walk I often undertake when I need time to think or to talk to myself, for it is a solitary dander, often punctuated with stops to view the wildlife on its banks or to glimpse at another world just across the river. Occasionally I will just walk to one particular spot on the river bank and sit for ages, only bothered by the odd curious cow, whose conversation is fairly limited. Sometimes, when the river overflows, the fields become partial lakes so for a while the view is transformed and the path I choose to tread requires more care.
I love the walks in the local country park, early in the morning but especially after the sun has set, when the paths are almost deserted save nightime creatures like ourselves. The lake is still and shimmering, almost like a sheet of glass and the heron that has found a home there, skims gracefully over the surface before perching elegantly on a distant branch. The golf course is equally lonely with the last of the enthusiasts making their way to the nineteenth hole. Many of the walks are darkened by trees even when the sun is on full power, but on an evening of fast fading light, strange shadows appear all along the route and the noise of the night animals coupled with the silence left by the day dwellers changes the atmosphere to one of remoteness and isolation. With us, this walk is never an amble, being more of a necessity to retain some level of fitness in our bodies as our age had long since moved out of single figures, so it is seldom a time to stop and appreciate the beauty around but often a chance to discuss the events of the day. How strange too, that as daylight fades away, so does the colour and the world becomes a much more grey place to live.
As I grew up, walking was a major part of my life at secondary school. Walking down the lane to catch the morning bus, walking from the bus depot to school and often, in the evenings, when sport practice required me to stay late, walking the mile or so home from the last bus stop. Often on Saturday, after a school rugby match, when dad was away at the market and no other car was at home, I would always make my way through town and out into the country on foot, heading for home, eight miles away and hoping that my extended tight thumb might be spotted by a thoughtful passing motorist, who would then help to shorten my journey. Sometimes I was lucky and one lift might bring me within a mile of my destination. Other times I might be dependent on three or four lifts to travel the same distance and once or twice my good fortune completely deserted me and I had to make the long trek home completely on foot. It's not a method I would advise nowadays but then, even at the height of the Troubles, when religious and political suspicions ran high, there seemed to be a greater general trust in individuals and a willingness to help anyone, so I never doubted my safety for a moment.
The book of Genesis tells us that Noah and Enoch both walked with God during their lives. What a lovely affirmation of a person's relationship with their Lord for you can't get closer to someone than when walking with them and when you're that close, you're more likely to hear everything they say, even when they are only whispering. That's where I want to be, walking with God everyday, so that I never miss a word when He chooses to speak to me. The prophet Micah says that God requires us to 'walk humbly with your God.' And the great thing about walking with God is that we travel at the pace He chooses.
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