The Walls of Lucca.
During the month of October, Mary and I had the opportunity to travel to Italy. It’s something that for years we have saved for, dreamed about, and planned. Part of our journey included time in the Italian town of Lucca.
Lucca is located in Tuscany, and consequently has many of the quaint and engaging aspects of many of the towns in the area. In addition, Lucca is known for the well-preserved Renaissance walls that encircle the city center. Construction on the walls began in 1504 and took over a hundred years to complete.
Today, the walls provide a stunning pathway around the city. To walk and to cycle. Roughly 2.6 miles.
On October 28th, Mary and I took full advantage on a sun-soaked fall afternoon. First, we walked the loop, and then we rented bikes and rode around it twice.
While we loved the classic views, there was something more profound about our experience on the wall. In short, what became apparent is that the wall is a treasured conduit into something deep and lasting. Certainly there were tourists, like us, who were there to explore, but it was the locals that captured our attention and admiration.
Locals. Two older men walking and engaged in animated and demonstrative dialogue. Stopping and arguing. Patting each on the back. Serious and yet cordial. Unhurried and oblivious to everything outside of their orbit.
Then, a daughter pushing an elderly parent in a wheelchair. The delight of the wheelchair occupant was inspiring. A constant heavenward line of sight. And the effort of the daughter was compelling and convicting. Care is inconvenient and time-consuming. The pace is slow. Deliberate. Difficult. It’s selfless and sacrificial. But on the wall, it’s possible.
Another woman. Old. Hunched. But walking. Poles as an aid. But committed. Intentional.
Me… I was tracking my steps and my miles on the exercise app, Strava. Fitness before faithfulness. Muscle tone over relational depth. Noise over quiet.
So our pace slowed. Our conversation deepened. Our delight grew.
What we observed we relished. What we witnessed we embraced. In Lucca. In Tuscany. In Italy.
But
now, Lucca is history. It’s behind us. No doubt the locals continue to walk,
and push, and talk, and gesture.
So what now? In Aurora, Colorado. No walls. No vineyards in view. No relics in
sight.
Schedules. Appointments. Meetings. Calls. Calendars…
But no excuse. None. While the setting changed dramatically, the priority
doesn’t have to.
To linger more. To slow down. To grab a hand instead of an iPhone.
To walk my own set of walls. Not Mura di Lucca, but Mura di Aurora.
2.6 miles to engage. To converse. To listen. To love. To sacrifice. To push. To
celebrate.
“Are
you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and
you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me
and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I
won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll
learn to live freely and lightly.” (Matthew 11:28-30, MSG)
The
lessons linger still. God help me to remember. To change. To practice.
Unforced rhythms of grace…
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