Dusk was settling in as I hiked alongside the sandstone hogback, listening to and picking out the birdsong as I strode the red sand path.
It had been a weird week for me, for lack of a better term. I just couldn’t relax. I was doom-scrolling the news, waking up at odd hours in the night, pacing my house like a caged tiger when it was too hot for me to venture outdoors, and was overall just a paranoid mess, and I couldn’t put my finger as to why.
So, when I got the sudden though subtle urge to head to the valley right as the sun set below the western foothills, I knew I had to answer it. I knew God wanted to get me away from the stress and stuffiness of my basement den, and into one of the most beautiful landscapes I’ve ever wandered. Clearly, He had something to say.
As I carefully wandered the sandy trail cutting through the waist-high prairie foliage, I listened with bated breath for the voice of God. Or, perhaps more accurately, I was simply enjoying being in the woods when few people could be heard or seen, and the wildlife were at their most active.
That’s when I felt Him.
Rarely have I actually felt God’s presence quite like that. To me, it felt like He was walking right alongside me, shoulder-to-shoulder, watching and listening to the many birds fluttering to-and-fro across the pale mauve sky above. I silently continued to hike, reveling in His close, loving presence, waiting for a prompting of sorts.
I didn’t get much of any prompting till I came to a slope where the sandstone hogback buried itself into the earth. There, I caught sight of a faint, muddy trail heading deeper into a forest of Ponderosas and Gamble Oaks; a deer trail, to be exact.
As silently as I could, I began to follow the path, stepping one foot straight ahead of the other, heel first to the ground, carefully rounding my sole till my toes touched the ground as to not snap any twigs or dried stubble. There, even the lightest step through the brush sounded like a nuke detonating to my ears. But, a Spotted Towhee landed on a nearby Gamble Oak branch and began to sing, as though he was trying to drown out my thunderous bootsteps into the thicket.
As quietly as I could, I came around to the other side of the sandstone hogback and stopped dead in my tracks. As though it had been placed there for me, was a Blue Jay feather resting perfectly on the face of a sandstone boulder in the very center of a sandstone alcove. Before I could investigate it closer, in my mind’s ear, I heard the phrase, “Ask, and it shall be given to you. Seek, and you shall find…”
I’d come to the valley that evening in search of peace and reassurance. And in that little place, sheltered by sweet-smelling Ponderosas, gnarled Gamble Oaks, and weathered sandstone layers, I’d found it. Or, perhaps more accurately, God took my hand and led me to it.
When I felt it was okay to, I silently inspected the Blue Jay feather, without touching it. It didn’t feel right to touch or to move it. I can’t even begin to explain why that was. It just… well… was. And, I obeyed that feeling. Of course, I still took plenty of pictures, both of the feather itself and the surrounding landscape. And, I couldn’t help but find a small chunk of sandstone to bring back home with me. But, I left that feather where I’d found it, wondering why it was there. Or rather, why it felt so… purposefully placed there.
For a long while, I sat down on a sandstone ledge near that feather and stared at it, trying to figure out what God was trying to get me to see and/or understand. Especially because I’d felt so damn off that entire week.
After spending so much time deep in thought, I figured out what might be the root-causes of that week’s anxiety: the looming threat of college, and the fact that I had gotten back to writing seriously for my memoir, and it was ripping open some rather recent wounds. Releasing emotions and inner demons I hadn’t fought with in years.
My memoir writing (and therapy), while helpful and healing both in the short and long run, has caused me a lot of pain as I’ve essentially re-lived my greatest challenges while typing it away at mach-speed. Thankfully, unlike in the past, I could unplug from that pain and trauma for the most part whenever I had to, making sure to take frequent breaks between pages and paragraphs.
Still, it’s tough to write about all of the suffering, dying, faithlessness, bitterness, and rage I’ve felt over the years. It’s excruciating to take off the bandages and re-feel those visceral emotions from the past, even though it’s how one heals. It’s better to cry those past traumas out and furiously type them down onto a screen and off my chest, than to let that hurt remain trapped and festering within me. But, it’s tough to do so, especially when you have basically no one to talk to who actually gets it.
Yet, God gets it. He understands the hellfire I’ve been through far more than I ever will. Over the years, He’s counted every tear I’ve shed, every desperate prayer I’ve cried, every prick and sting I’ve felt, every piece of my soul that has gone along with a loved one, every chill down my spine that terror has struck down it. He’s felt everything I’ve felt. He’s walked close beside me for my entire life, and He’ll be there for the rest of this life’s journey. He’s seemingly put people, places, and things in my life for deliberate purposes.
From everything as complex and consequential as saving me from almost certain death, to everything as simple as a pretty blue feather on a chunk of sandstone.
