Last Saturday, I walked a labyrinth.

It is something that I have always wanted to do but never have had the opportunity – at least not in the realness of cobblestones crammed with twists and turns.

Walking a labyrinth probably seems like such an odd thing to do for some. I have to confess my husband wasn’t quite sure of its purpose and I really didn’t know how to explain its tug.

So I didn’t try. I just encouraged us both to walk.

Off he went with a pace like he was trying to win a race. We do that don’t we…move through life with such velocity that we miss the fact no one is racing save us. His human nature kicked in. Move along, things to do and places to see. Instinct changed his pace. It always does.

I think I whispered once or twice, “Slow down. Consider the turns…the almost there’s but not. It is a lot like life, don’t you think?”

I am not sure he thought that at all.

So, I stopped talking and kept walking which is what I should have been doing all along.

Walking the labyrinth isn’t a group event. It is singular moment. Mystery wrapped in the ordinary act of putting one foot in front of the other. While my husband raced past, I didn’t fully enter in. Like a puzzle not fully complete it is calling me back to do it again.

And, so I will. Step in, walk around and listen to the stones speak.

When the mind is muddled it does one good to walk it out. To lace up one’s shoes and get out of the place where you are jumbled and move into something different.

The hard part is not carrying the weight with you like a pack mule.

Last week, I was there with my shoes on. Seeking to extricate myself from the crazy mess I made, I knew I had to go even if it was in my own backyard.

These walks are the praying kind. Where words are laid aside and a quiet awareness joins in.

We pass through life so quickly these days. Yet in our haste to be somewhere or be someone, we become indifferent to what is right before us. We give away so much and gain nothing in return.

What God gave Adam was not forgiveness of sin. What God gave Adam was the right to begin again.   Elie Wiesel

So, with shoes laced up I crossed this familiar threshold – to begin again.

This was a silent – walk it out. The kind when words were not found but grace makes its appearance.  Beauty right before me.

Sometimes it is easier to see when I am not so busy talking.

Sometimes it is better pray that way too.