Welcome to my Substack! My name is Tanner Olson and I am an author, poet, and speaker. Here I share whatever comes to mind. Sometimes I’ll post a prayer or poem or reflection or story. Before you move onto the next thing hit the subscribe button!
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It’s 9 AM on Monday and I am writing this in my head as Pancake (dog), Judah (5 month old), and I drive to a local neighborhood to walk. It is too beautiful outside for us to be inside. It’s 70-something degrees and the sun is almost on full display, but continues to play hide-and-seek behind the moving white clouds. Plus, I needed to move my feet. I ate too many cookies and Starburst jelly beans as we celebrated Easter over the weekend.
At the stoplight I notice a lady next to me using her finger nails as a pair of tweezers. She is slowly tracing over her cheek, searching for the single hair, attempting to pluck it. She has tried four times, but the hair continues to evade her attempts. She catches me looking and we give each other the look that says, “We are both humans and cannot control where our hair grows.”
Halfway into our drive I am cut off by a lady in a dirt stained crimson red sedan with a University of Alabama bumper sticker. In big red letters it reads ROLL TIDE. I don’t even know what that means. She sped past me, shot me a nasty look, and gave me the finger with fury as she cut in front of us. In return I gave her a different finger. I turned my thumb down and made a fart noise with my tongue.
I think I made my point.
We exited the highway and I rolled the windows down. Pancake stuck his head outside and the breeze pushed back his hair like he is some sort of dog model. He is. My phone has no less than 25,000 photos to prove my point. His tail isn’t wagging, but he is happy. He has no idea a lady just flipped us off.
I pushed the stroller with my right hand and held Pancake’s leash with my left. A few months ago I would have been terrified to do a solo outing like this, but that season is over and a new one is here. I tell Pancake to leave it when we see a squirrel. I ask Judah if he sees the clouds. I tell Pancake he’s a good boy. I make turkey noises and Judah laughs and smiles. I ask Pancake if he has to go potty. I point to the flowers and tell Judah they are purple and yellow and pink.
Spring is here and I am better for it. The cherry blossom trees are blooming and the flowers are showing off their colors while the birds chirp over and over. It is almost as if the whole earth is proclaiming that Christ is risen. Every step we take offers a reminder of new life. Hope is bursting all around us, we just need to keep our eyes open to see it.
Sometimes I forget to open my eyes. I get stuck with my head down or buried in my phone, but I’m learning again and again how living begins with looking up. And when I look up I cannot help but see that newness is always available. God loves leading us from the old and into the new, holding our hand as He guides us from one season to the next. Nothing stays the same except the God who guides us. He remains loving and kind and trustworthy. At every moment along the way He is going with us and before us as He gives us His grace. It is even given to the lady who gave us the finger.
We are halfway through our walk and I’ve counted 11 minivans. For the first time in my life I am coveting a strangers minivan. I used to do this with pick-up trucks, but that is another season of my life that has ended. Last week I was up at 5 AM Googling minivans. I never thought I’d be someone who wanted one, but then again Spring does bring on a flurry of change.
I continue writing this in my head as we walk, making a few notes on my phone. I wonder what the main theme of the piece will be. I wonder if there will even be a main theme. Does everything need to have a theme or make a point? I wonder if I should include the part about the lady giving me the finger. I wonder how many people will read this. I wonder how many cup holders are in a Honda Odyssey. I wonder if what I am doing matters.
Judah screeches and snaps me out of my wondering. The clouds are gone and the sun is beaming bright. Judah is excited about the shadows. I can’t remember the last time I was excited about shadows, but Judah is opening my eyes, showing me what I’ve been missing. His legs kick quickly as his head swivels back and forth. His face lights up with joy as we continue walking beneath and through the shadows. He screeches again and again and I think he is singing hallelujah. Yesterday, Sarah told me that at this age Judah is much more aware of his environment. Maybe he saw that lady give us the finger.
We pass another dad who is pushing a stroller with his right hand and has a leash in his left. We smile and nod and hesitate and then keep walking. I think he wanted to say something. I think I wanted to say something, but I didn’t know what. Sometimes a silent smile says it all.
I’m at the end of this writing and I’m not sure what it’s about. Maybe it’s about leaving one season behind and stepping into another with faith. Maybe it’s about the newness of life. Maybe it’s about change or paying attention. Maybe it’s about grace. Maybe it’s not about anything.
Writing can be like living. Sometimes we start in one direction and aren’t sure how it’s going to go or end, but the important thing is that we step outside. Sure, you might get the finger, but you might also see the flowers bloom. Anyways, I say all of this to say this: it’s hard to see the shadows if you never step into the light.
He is Risen! He is Risen indeed! I love your writings, they make me feel better about my own wandering, ever changing thoughts.
What joy these sentences give!!! He is Risen!!! ♥️