Teckla and I walk a lot. We walk on the sidewalks and on the hiking trails in the local parks. Although falling is a risk for people with dementia, Teckla has almost never fallen when hiking off the paved trails. Over rocks and roots she has proved sure-footed. Yesterday, the trail we hiked was wet and especially slippery under the canopy of oak and hickory. Teckla’s left foot slid down a wet rock, but she kept the right one anchored on the trail. With a little help, she pulled herself up.
Unexpectedly, we have found the sidewalks far more treacherous. Many years ago while visiting Dylan and Vanessa in Portland, Teckla tripped on the sidewalk along Burnside Street. She lunged and stumbled forward about twenty yards, desperately trying to get her legs under her. Finally, she fell hard and rolled into the street. It was terrible, but she had no serious injuries—except our jokes about being a Burnside bum.
But as we age, both Teckla and I must be wary. The sidewalks will be perfectly clear sailing for blocks, but suddenly a root will have pushed up the cement or one section will have sunk down into the clay. Our walking is the opposite of powerwalking; we saunter along without lifting our feet very high. Next thing we know, we are tripping over the uneven cement and staggering to stay on our feet.
Unlike the trails, the sidewalks allow us to walk side by side, so we hold hands. Time after time, we have steadied each other. Occasionally, we trip at the same place and time, holding each other tightly as we stumble forward and balance each other.
Christian writers have long warned against the dangers of the easy path. We carefully pick our way through the forest trails along the river edges. However, it is easy to cruise down the sidewalk, lulled to near sleep by the ease of the way. But it is here, on the sidewalk, where we most need to hold each other hands and occasionally call out warnings about broken cement.
Believers need to seek fellowship not on just the difficult trails and during difficult times. We need help seeing the things that trip us up when everything is rolling along just fine. In the glare of the Kansas sun it is hard to see raised edges of the cement, but together we can stumble without falling.
