You can listen to this week’s Devotional here
Author: Nancy Wade
We have lived in our new home for only a few days. In the midst of unpacking boxes and figuring out how the new appliances work, we’ve taken a little time to visit with the neighbor next door, a friendly transplant from Iowa named Lynne. She and her husband have a small Cockapoo dog named Rosie, short and sturdy with a friendly countenance and bright eyes. Rosie and our two Goldens have been eyeing each other through our shared split rail fence, both eager and cautious.
There are lots of birds in our new neighborhood: robins and sparrows and many small birds that I’m not yet able to identify. But Lynne told us that one bird in particular, a red-tail hawk, has been a frequent visitor. It perches on her roof and then swoops over to ours, back and forth it flies, continuously eyeing the ground in search of prey. Naturally, Lynne is worried about the hawk, sure it is stalking Rosie, fearful that in one swift descent, the hawk may latch its talons into Rosie’s back and carry her away. It is a horrifying thought.
***
We are pleased that First Cong is but a 35-minute drive from our new home, a drive through wheat and corn fields, past farms with magnificent views of the mountains and hills to the west, their comforting silhouettes lined up along the skyline, with Longs Peak prominent among them.
Time has flown by since we began attending First Cong in August of 2015. I have come to consider the building and its surroundings as sacred space, a place that makes me feel calm and safe. This sense of security extends to the parking lot tucked away adjacent to the church to the west. I typically arrive early on Sunday mornings and as a creature of habit, I park near the Pine Street side and enter the building via the sloped ramp.
On a recent quiet Sunday morning, I had just opened my car door and stepped out onto the pavement when a man on a beat-up bicycle swooped into the lot next to me. His words were loud and harsh: “How’s your health?”
I felt the muscles in my neck reflexively tighten.
Again, he asked, “How’s your health?”
Irrational questions rushed through my mind: Would he try to hurt me? Is there anyone I can ask for help? Is this guy, in some weird way, trying to form a human connection?
His dark threatening form hovered in my peripheral vision. I found I could not look at his face. He balanced precariously on the bike, hands tight on the handlebars, feet shifting up and down in short strokes to keep the bike in motion. He swung away, making tight circles near my car.
Adrenaline coursed through my body.
He was clearly trying to provoke a response. Locked in a state of fear and panic, I remember black hair, muscled and tattooed upper arms, dirty fingernails. By now, I had walked to the other side of my car, had opened the front door to retrieve my purse, which I slung over my shoulder and grasped to my side. Eyes cast down, I concentrated on moving toward the church door, determined that he not sense my raw fear.
I turned my back on the looming cyclist and focused my gaze on the ground as I walked toward Pine Street. His final words rang out before he rode away: “Oh, so this is a church?” I could almost hear his smirk. His voice was filled with disdain and mockery. And in that moment, I felt mixed emotions: shame and guilt, confusion, sadness, relief. I re-thought my actions. What would have happened if I had answered his question or made eye contact?
In the moment, on that quiet and calm Sunday morning, I experienced a threat that felt real. I had no choice but to react in a way that preserved my safety. But I have wondered in the days since what I might have done differently.
Prayer: Loving God, we don’t always know how to act when we encounter a threat or perceived threat. Help us to reflect and be open to learn new ways to respond and be in relationship with all of your creation. Amen