O Lord my God, you are very great. You are clothed with splendor and majesty, covering yourself with light as with a garment, stretching out the heavens like a tent. Psalm 104: 1-2
Charlie’s post Losing at Monopoly drills home the truth that there are no ultimate winners in this life. Humans return to dust just like cats, ground squirrels and hawks. However Charlie and I both believe we have a spirit or soul that joins the eternal, one way or another. To us the ultimate question is: will God want our souls in his house? The Bible lays out a path to God’s house, but to get there we will have to make many choices in our lives. Christ boils down all these individual choices to whether or not they’re made with a love of God and a love of our neighbor in our hearts.
A walk through Hemet got me seriously considering choices people make compared to actions which seem beyond choice, the survival actions of the least of these our brothers and sisters. Their actions sometimes mirror the natural actions of wild creatures that live in the same forgotten places around town – grassy parks, scrub woods, vacant lots, creek beds, ravines – all places where I also look for mushrooms.
On this walk I didn’t find many mushrooms, but I found lives in abundance, both human and creature. Some of the lives I found are those that God holds closest according to the Bible – lives whose garments are little more than light and whose tents are most open to the heavens. This walk helped me to understand how grace abounds where there’s little else to be had.
Often my walks in strange places like mountains, arroyos etc. start with nature dummying me up. This walk in Hemet was no exception. I picked up a strange seedpod from an unfamiliar tree on the parking and began removing a fuzzy white husk from the seeds. Within seconds I realized the white fuzz was actually tiny needles, dozens of which embedded in my fingers immediately, reminding me that what I don’t know certainly can hurt me. Next a hawk sat on a parking eating a rodent while I approached within 3 yards snapping pictures of it. I’d never seen a hawk so nonchalant about humans.
Soon I was searching for fungi in a field that was totally infested with large ground squirrels like the one the hawk was eating. I remembered my brother-in law, Rick’s warning that rattle snakes in this area have evolved without the warning rattle because so many people were killing the rattling snakes rather than just getting away from them like they should. I wondered how many poisonous snakes were out in this field feasting on ground squirrels and counting on me to not be dumb enough to step right on them. None were seen this day.
Once I was out in the field, I saw the backside of a large berm was a bare dirt ledge. The front side of the berm toward the street rose gradually almost imperceptibly, making the backside a perfect hiding spot. From a distance it appeared to be littered with piles of trash. When I got closer I saw the piles included tarps covering hollowed out sleeping areas in the berm. These were homes that were cool in the summer and warm in the winter. I kept a respectful distance as I circled around the berm. Some folks were home. I discovered that the berm was part of a construction project that was long ago quashed in its infancy. In front of the berm was a large twenty ft. deep pit with more “trash,” tarps and tunnels into its walls. Several people lived in this pit eighty feet from a busy road totally unseen by passersby. The heavens were their tent too.
Interestingly the ground squirrel population was densest and most visible nearer to the encampments. Of course! The presence of people nearby should cause predators to stay away, except, apparently hawk evolution was catching up.
I came to a park called Veterans Park. It had a memorial to vets killed in recent wars in one corner. The park was nearly uninhabited except for what looked like a large family reunion in the picnic shelter. That was fine with me. I was interested in possible mushrooms underneath stately California live-oak trees, and I didn’t want to walk around a bunch of people. I didn’t see any fungi but I noticed that the grass was matted suspiciously in many spots. A large young black man had walked from the shelter toward me. When he got close enough, I turned and said Hi. He said Hi and returned to the party.
I circled around the park returning near to the picnic shelter on the way out. There I realized it was a family but not a reunion. Everyone in this family had their shopping carts and backpacks alongside them and multiple layers of garments on their backs. Some of the garments were tattered fatigues. I realized the best safety-net for Hemet’s homeless was each other and the young man who followed me was on security detail, just making sure I wasn’t messing with anyone’s patch of grass under their heavenly tent. The park was named to honor veterans. I think the best way they could be honored is to not kick anyone out of that shelter-house.
I forgot my water so I crossed the street and wandered into a Subway where, in my congenital cheapness, I bought a cookie and asked for a free glass of water rather than buying an expensive bottle of water. The lady behind the counter was unusually nice saying in a kind voice, “No problem sweetie. You can have more water if you need.” I said thanks and left. A moment later I realized that possibly she saw my well-worn fedora and rugged walking cloths and assumed I was one of “them.” Instead of just thanks, I should have said “Bless you” like so many of “them,” say when simple kindness is extended. Maybe she thought she was entertaining an angel unawares rather than some old cheapskate.
I was prepared for an uneventful walk home along quiet city streets, but I was due for one more lesson from Psalm 104. I’d seen this old guy on a cool little scooter a few times near Nancy and Rick’s. Today he was sitting on his scooter staring down at the ground the whole time I approached. I became concerned. When I came to him I said, “That’s a nice scooter.” He didn’t respond but pointed toward the ground. I came around and saw that he was watching ants dragging breadcrumbs he’d given them into their hole. “Ants” I said, and he shook his head yes. “Wow, you’ve just given them a huge feast!” Now a big smile beamed on his face as he said, “Yup.”
Sally and I had begun reading Psalms this year. We continued this in CA with Charlie and me at the table and Sally on the phone. I feel it was no coincidence that we came to Psalm 104 the day after my walk. I began unexplainably choking up when I read the words, stretching out the heavens like a tent. The others took over reading aloud, and then I tried taking my turn again until I got to verse 28. When you give it to them,(all creatures) they gather it up; when you open your hand, they are filled with good things. I got no further. Charlie and Sally had to finish for me, for God had showed me and now told me where He could be found.
