A year or so ago, I was teaching a class on prayer, and we agreed to meet in the park to visit a prayer labyrinth that was laid out there.
The day could not have
been any more beautiful. It was one of
those cool, sunny spring days that we all love New Orleans for. And….
And, the day could not
have been any more aggravating. And it
was getting worse. It was a rough day at
work, with bureaucratic frustrations building all day long. I was running late, and the traffic on
Magazine St. is always tough during rush hour.
Even as near as my workplace is to the park, there was just no way I was
going to make it to the labyrinth by 5 pm.
I took the ‘short cut’ on the Fly, and promptly got stuck behind some... ahem, child of God, who had trouble with his multitasking - talking on the cell phone,
driving, and beating his kid who had probably struck out in the baseball game. For good measure, he stopped in the middle of
the road to focus on the other things, rather than driving.
I continued to practice
my Jesus prayer, trying to center myself on my relationship with my Creator,
rather than his OBVIOUSLY flawed creation in front of me.
It didn’t work. When I arrived, I was mad at the entirety of
creation. Beyond mad. Furious.
My wife Kathe had
arrived before I did, and in greeting her, I did not even make eye
contact. I am going to walk this maze, I am going to check this off of my list
of things to do, and then move back to my life.
I stopped to read the
plaque. Yes, it was a gift post
Katrina. Yes, there is no wrong way to
walk the maze. Sure, long history of
gardens and mazes and labyrinths as part of
