It’s New Year’s Day. I usually celebrate it by going on a hike and then watching some football on TV, and this year is no exception. Fifty-degree weather in northern New England on the first of the year? Yes, please. But Mass came first.
As a Catholic, I celebrate the Solemnity of Mary, Mother of God today. It’s also the World Day of Peace. That’s a lot of freight for one date to carry.
St. Josemaria Escriva is up to the task.
We have to fight – a fight of peace – against evil, against injustice, against sin. Thus do we serve notice that the present condition of man is not definitive.
St. Josemaria Escriva, collected in Christ is Passing By: Homilies, escrivaworks.org
There’s a challenge, a reminder, and reassurance all at once.
I’m distressed at news of a Christmas Eve hike gone terribly wrong upstate. A rescue attempt became a recovery mission. First responders and volunteers put their own lives on hold and at risk to come after a lost hiker. I might wonder how a hiker could have made this-or-that bad decision, but I’m reluctant to point fingers, having made enough foolish decisions on my own less-ambitious hikes.
I’m left with two thoughts: gratitude to rescuers, and a plea to my fellow Granite State hikers to purchase a Hike Safe card.
May the hiker who never made it home rest in peace.
As I looked for through my photos for something to use on a project, I found this old favorite that I once used in a post at Granite State Walker. The post fits in Advent, a time of preparation and renewal. Re-reading the post brought back all the gratitude and delight I experienced after meeting a gentleman who opened my eyes to a common beauty I’d never before appreciated.
Never underestimate the potential impact of a passing conversation or a chance meeting. It could affect a life in ways you’ll never see.
Mr. Stiles’s lesson: share what you love
In August 2013, I read in the newspaper about the passing of a New Hampshire gentleman named Walter Stiles. The published tributes indicated that he was a generous man in every respect, devoted to his family, active in his community. I met him once more than twenty years before his death, had a single unforgettable conversation with him on the subject of lilacs, and never saw him again. In the short time we chatted, he managed to convey his great and contagious affection for this state and its natural beauty.
We were at a political gathering, not a social one, and there was a lot of edgy debate among attendees that day. No matter. By some chance, I was seated next to Mr. Stiles, who I think was a state representative at the time. His kindness and dignity were a kind of antidote to the tension in the room. I asked him what he did when he wasn’t serving in his political office. I realize now that he could have said any number of things, for as his obituary made clear, he was a man of many parts. What he chose to tell me about was his interest in horticulture, particularly lilacs.
I had never paid much attention to lilacs before that time, to tell you the truth. They were just sort of there. Listening to Walter Stiles, I began to realize what I’d been missing. He told me about the Governor’s Lilac Commission, which was a fairly new group at that time. He told me that the lilac was the state flower, and that he hoped to see more people plant them around their homes and schools and towns. He talked about the flower’s wonderful fragrance (which I had never stopped to notice). He told me about the people working with the Commission and with their own local garden clubs to encourage cultivation.
When the day’s proceedings were over, he bid me a cordial farewell and went on his way. He must have been grinning to himself, knowing better than I did that he had dropped an idea in front of me and that I was sure to pick it up eventually.
Photo by Ellen Kolb
As I said, that was many years ago. Since then, lilacs planted by my husband have grown to line one side of our yard. I wait impatiently every spring for those gorgeous blossoms. I fill vases with them and bring them into the house so the fragrance can fill the rooms. Wherever I see lilacs in blossom, I appreciate all the colors from white to deepest purple. I’m grateful to everyone who has gone to the trouble of planting the bushes, which take a few years to establish. As I learned to look for lilacs, I learned to keep my eyes open for the other flowers all over New Hampshire. The variety astonishes me anew every year.
It’s no accident that I do more hiking as I get older. I have more to appreciate and enjoy. I’ve benefited from many people who have taken the time to share with me their love of this state’s beauty. From such folks, I am learning more all the time, and I have all the more reason to savor my time on the trails.
If you’re a fan of being outdoors, I hope you’ll do what Mr. Stiles did: share your enthusiasm. I only met him once, and I never had the chance to thank him for expanding my horizons just a bit. I’m guessing he’d consider those lilacs in my yard thanks enough.
Ellen Kolb 