I’m walking through New York’s Central Park on a flawless summer day, shorts and a T-shirt, my dog Gracie in tow, no particular place to go. I spot a man juggling cats—no, not real cats, stuffed ones, a play on the old Steve Martin routine. I wonder how many others get the reference. A little girl is watching, fascinated, while Dad takes a picture with his phone.
A band is setting up at the Naumburg Bandshell for a concert. Merengue? Celtic? Salsa? We’ll have to stop back. On the Great Lawn a group is practicing tai chi as human heliotropes position their towels. Further on a man on a unicycle zips by blowing a kazoo. (It is not for me to ask why.) A woman pushes a twin stroller containing twin Yorkies. Gracie seems genuinely bemused.
On a bench in the shade of a voluptuous oak, a man reads his Bible. He looks up and smiles. I give him a little nod. Further down the mall a young couple is selling used books spread out on a blanket. I hope they’re doing it to make room in their apartment for more books.
We walk by the lake, the rippling breeze sending a toy sailboat scurrying across the water, its young captain running along the shore beside it. Further out, weekend mariners in rented rowboats try not to collide. New Yorkers are landlubbers, pretty much.
Gracie pulls me towards a hot dog stand and before I can change course, the vendor is smiling. He knows he has a customer. I give in and buy a hot dog, repairing to a bench where I share a bite with Gracie. As we rest, a resplendent wedding party hurries past, headed, I suspect, to Gapstow Bridge over the pond for photographs. It’s what you do when you get married in Central Park.
Here’s the thing. I am not actually strolling in Central Park. It is a wet, sunless day when the rain won’t stop, and the steamy dampness clings to you. Gracie is wet and, well, fragrant. Frankly, I can’t wait for the day to end so I can crawl into bed. But all the things I described I have seen, and I will see again and more, for God is good and there are always brighter, warmer, drier, better days ahead. Until that next flawless summer day arrives, I can live and dream God’s blessings in my mind and praise Him for the goodness that is sure to come.
