HomedotMagisReflectionsComfort in Old Things

Comfort in Old Things

grayscale tree seen from below - original color photo by Artur Debat/Moment RF/Getty Images

I draw comfort from old things. An ancient tree, twisted and gnarled, reaching for the sky. A humble hillside chapel, its stones from a distant age, a spiritual shelter for pilgrims past. A simple pathway, well-trodden and well-kept, flattened by booted feet year after year.

I draw comfort from old things and from knowing that in their shadows, others have stood or passed, while others have wondered, wandered, and wept. I am not the first. If past is prelude, as they say, I won’t be the last.

I look for this comfort in these sturdy, well-worn places, because the storms of life are many, and already I feel weathered. But then I look to these old trees, these old stones, this old path, and I think, Things can hold. Things can weather. Things can remain.

It is not the things that give comfort—not entirely. It is what they have seen. Who has passed this way before? What wearying burdens and hidden joys did they carry as they went?

When these forebearers of mine—of ours—leaned upon the old bark of this tree, what did they think? When they rested upon these aged stones, what did they feel? When they passed through this storied path, where were they going?

It’s these forgotten people, then, from whom I draw my comfort. I see a reminder that we are a pilgrim people, and our lineage stretches back into the far distance. Though the storms batter us, that lineage remains. So, too, do our shared humanity and dignity.

We encounter a communion of people: women and men made holy by the shared pilgrim journey through this graced life. This is a communion of struggling saints. We share this legacy, this lineage, this story. I draw my comfort from a shared narrative thread, woven across time and space, a rope we all fumble to grasp as we make our way onward.

I draw my comfort from this shared story, a tale of many chapters of sorrow, grief, pain, hope, love, and rejoicing. There are chapters left to be written, but this tale is one story in one great sweeping narrative.

I draw my comfort from the author of this sweeping story, the one who both bounds the book and becomes the bond that holds tight the tale’s countless characters. It is God in all things from whom I draw my comfort, as God stretches back into the ether of time and reaches out ahead to destinations yet unknown to us.

Here is our God who is in the story and its characters. Our God knows the path. Our God shores up our foundation of stones. Our God reaches up and through the ancient tree as it yawns at the sky.

I draw comfort from old things, because they have spent time with God—more time than I have, at least. And while the tree and the stone and the path may not speak in words I know, God’s Spirit dwells here as it always has. From the simple things, we have much to learn.

In knowing that there is always more to know, that God is of unfathomable depths, and that even the oldest tree is but a blink in God’s eye, I draw great comfort.


text: Congratulations, Eric Clayton! 2025 Writer’s Award in Spirituality - Eric pictured

Eric Clayton
Eric Claytonhttps://ericclaytonwrites.com/
Eric A. Clayton is the deputy director of communications for the Jesuit Conference of Canada and the United States. He has a BA in creative writing and international studies from Fairfield University and an MA in international media from American University. Eric writes Story Scraps on Substack. He lives in Baltimore, MD, with his wife and two daughters. Clayton is the author of Cannonball Moments: Telling Your Story, Deepening Your Faith, My Life with the Jedi: The Spirituality of Star Wars, and Finding Peace Here and Now: How Ignatian Spirituality Leads to Healing and Wholeness.

17 COMMENTS

  1. Eric,
    I haven’t met any of your deep thoughts before and I am so glad I found this. I have just had major surgery and in the mele of trying to organise everything that needed to be done beforehand, I realised, not for the first time, that life has to be different from “today”.
    Our daughter died within 2 hours of her being poorly in Dec and feeling side-swiped we’re all very disorientated. As she needed 24/7 care there were always things to do and life was hectic and stressful.
    Your thoughts are powerful and full of God inspired wisdom. Today is a day made for new beginnings and we choose the pathway to follow…you are a signpost that has helped us begin a new journey albeit with broken hearts
    Thank you

  2. Trees, rocks, mountains, hills, and paths all have stories to tell
    Indigenous people seem to understand that very well
    You have given me inspiration for the next time I go walking in nature
    Thank you

  3. Congratulatios on your award! Yes, there is something of an inexplicable ethereal atmosphere in old things or places that awakens our curiosity and deepens our desire for knowledge of the past. I have experienced it myself, but never articulated it as well as you did in this narrative.

  4. A “thought-full” meditation. We have been, we are, and we will be part of an evolutionary universe.

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