I had the opportunity recently to visit the city where I lived for five of my elementary school years. I had some time to drive around and see familiar places including schools, churches, parks and ball diamonds. It was fun to revisit the homes where my friends had lived. Each place had its own character and reasons we wanted to be there. One had a great backyard and lots of outdoor equipment. One had no true backyard but a spacious attic that was great for playing in. One friend lived in an apartment which we thought was so unique because she was the only one we knew who did.
The city drive continued past my junior high school which was such an imposing and scary building to transition to at the time, but now seemed so ordinary and understated. The same could be said for the big ball diamond where the city championships were held each year which was so intimidating compared to the diamonds we played on all season.
       But what struck me most as I was touring was how good it felt to drive past the parks where we spent a lot of time. I must have looked ridiculous sitting in my car smiling broadly at the sight of the outdoor skating rink that was located a few blocks from my home. Hours were spent on the ice in the winter and on the playground equipment in the summer. They’ve added a spray park and I can only imagine the fun we could have had with that. But that new installation wasn’t what caused the grin. What caught my attention most was the huge hill leading down to the park. It was our summit for tobogganing on winter days, and our challenge on summer days as we took off on a run gathering speed down the slope, willing our feet to keep up. The hill, like so many things of childhood, had reached epic proportions in my memory and imagination. Not surprisingly the hill looked totally different to me now. Time and perspective tend to do that.
       Countless memories arose as I thought back to time on that hill, mostly the faces of the friends we’d spent those hours with. We never did it alone. We helped each other on our ascent, or slowed down to keep pace with others on the descent. Getting to the top was an achievement, especially when clothed in winter gear and lugging a sled, but that achievement was all the more special because there were others standing beside us when we did. A quick glance amongst the group was all it took to set a plan in motion and encourage us to tackle it again.
       At times we may feel like those wide-eyed children standing at the top of the mountain wondering how we’re going to handle what’s coming. Sometimes we may feel worn and defeated looking up from the bottom at obstacles that seem enormous. Or we find ourselves perched some place along the slope fearing a fall, questioning what might be ahead if we dare take another step and looking around to see who might be beside us.
       There were other places I saw in the city that day; the brick wall we lobbed tennis balls off requiring my sob-filled confession as I made shattering contact with the window in the top right hand corner; the intersection where I got hit by a car while riding my bike on my way home; and the windows of the third grade classroom where my teacher told me my art work wasn’t worthy to be included in a class project. It would have been easy to recall unpleasant memories at those parks, pools and playgrounds as friends had quarrels or we felt left out. But these weren’t the first thoughts I had on my tour because, once again, time and perspective had done their work.
Once in a while maybe we need to take a tour of our life as it was a year ago, ten years ago…twenty…or more. Take a look at where we were then and where we are now—for better or for worse. Consider the obstacles defeated, and the ones yet to be faced. It’s not about crushing the hills but making our way up and down through all that is on their path, keeping in mind the helping hands that assisted us in the climb, along with the ones who slowed their pace to walk alongside when we needed to be kept from running out of control.Think of all we have dealt with, all we have learned, and all the ways in which time and perspective have done their thing. A brief tour could be just what is needed to help us prepare for the next ascents and descents on the hillsides of our lives. That’s my outlook.
