Things seen and heard while running.

The sun sinking down behind the city. Leaving it's last traces in the clouds scattered above.

A single pink mitten. Covered in grippy white snowflakes. Two year old size. Is she sad she is missing her mitten? Is her little hand cold on this very mild December first?

The moon hanging over the water near the hospital on Wealthy. It's reflection being cut by the trees growing up out of the shallow cove. Pale gold-ish silver set against a dark canvas.

Christmas lights wound around bushes and threaded into tree branches. The man creating this labor of lights is putting the last finishing touches on his pine boughs in the huge vases at the end of the driveway. It looks beautiful, and I tell him so in winded words. He smiles with a thank you. Does anyone else tell him this? His neighbors? His wife?

One of my favorite houses, on the corner of the one way street behind the hospital isn't decorated with lights. No christmas bows or twinkling strands along the roof. The single outdoor light shining upon the rounded door does not fall upon a festive wreath. It would look beautiful all gussied up for the holidays. But perhaps they are saving money. Maybe despite their gorgeous house, they are frugal and don't want to run up the energy bill. I imagine them giving their money away. Calculating the cost of decor and electricity and giving it to someone who hasn't the money for food, let alone little white lights.

We are past the Welcome to East Grand Rapids sign, and I bump into a man walking his dog. He's in a full suit. I notice as our distance shortens that he has a phone on hand. He's checking his messages. He is still at work. Tragically, just behind him around the hedge of bushes is his little girl. Happily skipping along on the sidewalk, tucking her hair behind her ear clumsily as children do. He is at work, and she is delighting in an evening walk with her father and pup.

I run past the mitten again, still lost. The moon is now hanging high over Fulton street, illuminating the landscape. And it's not even six pm yet.

All the while I've been listening to Ed Dobson talk about mercy and loving your neighbor. When Jesus is asked who our neighbor is, as usual, he doesn't give a list or an easy answer, he tells a story. In this story our neighbor is an almost dead, stripped, beaten and penniless man laying alongside the road. The religious walk past him. He will just mess up their lives, make them unable to perform their duties, get in the way of them checking off their lists. But someone stops to help. One from Samaria doesn't let anything get in the way of loving their just robbed, bloodied neighbor. And so, translated by Ed, our neighbor is our enemy. Someone who gets in our way. Who makes our life messy. We're supposed to love them too. I have a hard enough time really loving the people that I enjoy. Those who are easy to love, even that is hard for me. So if I'm going to do this, I'm going to need help. I can't love my enemies well of my own accord. Luckily, I have some help. I have an example in Jesus. I have encouragement from being united with Christ, I have comfort from his love, I have fellowship with the Spirit, and I have tenderness and compassion. I need to claim those. And love as I have been loved.