She was out walking with her husband. It was an ordinary night.
Actually, it was a kind of special night. It was garbage night.
At some times in their lives, garbage night was a furniture shopping night. Dumpsters, garage sales, curbs, castoffs. Every room of the house has some reminder of these shopping trips.
She looked at him. “It’s too bad we’ve got so much garbage furniture.” They walked a couple steps. He was still figuring out how to respond when she said, “No, I’m not sorry.”
They talked about the church in the community built on the garbage dump. (They have a rock picked from the floor of the church.) They talked about the choices that have taken them on walks like this. They talked about contentment.
They’ve discussed second-hand furniture in the past, while sleeping in the bed resting on a frame first used a generation earlier. Sitting at the supper table, they can still find letters formed while a child pressed too hard while doing homework at a table rescued decades before from a house torn down.
This could be, of course, a story about old and new. But that’s not exactly the story for this apparently ordinary woman.
It seems to be more similar to other people, out walking, two at a time. Before they headed out, Jesus, their teacher, said, “Don’t take much with you. Travel lightly.”
He then gives a whole chapter worth of instructions about where to stay, how to interact, what to do. Much of it is about resistance and conflict. By the end of the walk, he said, you could end up in jail. Which makes us think that following must be crazy and scary and odd.
But really, it might look just like two people, out on a walk, renouncing regret.