Two walks on Good Friday

Good Friday was a walking day for me. First things first -- a short walk to Unleavened Bread to have breakfast with Marc (a young man from the 2900 block of Delaware who is working on his MSW and wants to do his internship at Broadway) and Dave Medsker (the authorities at IUPUI's School of Social Work don't like Marc's idea - say it isn't clinical enough -- I mention Dave Medsker to him, though, and the school says "oh, if Dave would supervise then it MUST be okay"). So we meet. And talk. And Dave will do it. Then we leave the café and walk to the church and begin the walk to North UMC and to join the already started stations of the cross walk. But we can't find them. But we do find De'amon who joins us and we talk. De'amon tells us about a man, Mr. Kimbrough, and his wife, Mrs. Kimbrough, who live close to the church who he had just met, in his work as the roving listener. Mrs. Kimbrough told about her husband's two recent strokes and how proud a man he is and how depressed he is and how he loves to play golf. But now he can't. As she talks Mr. Kimbrough steps outside -- he sees De'amon and he pulls himself up from his slouch. He thrusts his shoulders to the sky. He is, De'amon says, a proud man. Mrs. Kimbrough speaks about her captivity in the house -- about her wish that Mr. Kimbrough could stand again on a golf course. De'amon walks a block away, he tells us, to the home of his friend lamont. Lamont plays golf. He tells him about Mr. Kimbrough. Lamont gets excited and says he wants to meet Mr. Kimbrough. He loves golf. He doesn't know many people around. Sometimes he plays with Richard who works at the corner of fall creek and college. But he doesn't seem him enough really. But maybe Mr. Kimbrough. Marc's MSW internship would focus on mental health and I think as we walk - how much De'amon is teaching him about "non-clinical" mental health work. And marc picks up on that. He talks about the connection between Lamont and Mr. Kimbrough as a "neural pathway" that De'amon has helped clear the way for. And he wonders if his work in this community, his community, can clear the way for more neural pathways to do their healing work. I don't think of it as neural pathways. I think of it as the way of the cross this good Friday. A way of the cross that is not so miserable, but that is truly a healing pathway.

And then on good Friday evening...i'm walking over to Broadway for the service...it's a beautiful bright early evening. I walk down Sutherland (colors bursting in the trees and the flowers in a few neighbors front yards) -- take the long way...and come out onto College and walk across the College Street Bridge. There is a man standing on the west side of the bridge, halfway across -- looking east. I'm walking and listening to my radio headset (Indiana Week in Review is playing). But as I pass him the man speaks to me. I stop and take off the headset. He pulls me next to him and points across the bridge. The trees are starting slowly to put out leaves. He says "look at those birds." I see two enormous birds in a large tree, with a few green leaves - he says, "those are buzzards. I've lived here for over 50 years. There used be be a lot of buzzards around here, but I haven't seen any for 40 years. What do you think it means?" a stranger -- on Good Friday -- stops me on a bridge and asks me what it means that buzzards have appeared along Fall Creek. I can't imagine. Truly. I can't imagine. I think..."well...it IS Good Friday." but I don't say it out loud. It seems to ridiculous to say. But I wonder what it means. Is Fall Creek dying? Too much toxicity over too many years? Do the buzzards know that the city is dying? We see signs of it all around. In my ears I've been listening to politicians and journalists spar over the last happenings in the higher realms of the state -- but I'm listening to them, rather than reading the signs of the times -- buzzards on Fall Creek and Mr and Mrs Kimbrough looking for a little healing and new life on Good Friday. My ears are not tuned to the right things right now. I'm listening to the politicians and the pundits -- rather than my neighbors and nature. Maybe this Good Friday I've learned a lesson.