I set out around my neighborhood to create a space in my mind.
An image walked into it unexpectedly – before me, a couple with slightly bent backs. Their slow, careful step carried a quiet, enduring strength. Hands clasped between them, a link and an anchor.
I matched my pace to theirs, not to pass, but to witness. A story lives in every white hair, in each sunspot on their arms, and in veined legs that carry the weight of years.
Do they have children to care for them in their old age, I wondered. Do they live alone? I chose to believe that their long life, though fragile now as gnarled twigs fallen from a tree, has been blessed with good and fruitful days.
In the fleeting anonymity of this chance encounter, my cluttered mind eased and I whispered a silent prayer that God would protect them as He promises those who take refuge in Him: “I will satisfy him with a long life, and show him my salvation.” (Psalm 91:16, NASB)