After my first year of college I had a chance to go up to Toronto for a short time. I remember sitting on the east-bound subway car, peering through my own reflection in the glass at a west-bound subway car next to me. A young couple, probably still in high school, entered the other car hand in hand just before the doors shut. She touched his slicked back hair, he recoiled, she laughed. He flicked at the hem of her school uniform skirt, she dodged, he laughed...then they both laughed when they felt my amuzed gaze.
They teetered together as their car began its momentum forward.
After a few cars went by, for what ever reason, the train began to slow. Here again, I looked into the subway car across from me, and another much older couple sat next to each other--he with thinning gray hair slicked back and her in a long grey skirt and a large scarf covering her head in Russian babushka style. Age had furrowed its deep lines across his forehead and weathered the corners of her eyes.
Now I know it was not the same couple, but for a moment, it was like watching the young couple age and go fast-forwarding into the old, each car that had past being a decade of their lives, and finally pausing a moment on their last chapter. I suddenly felt a little cheated; I wanted to rewind and see what I had missed in the car before, and the car before that. What had kept them together over the years--what of life's secrets had they learned--what did they know of joy--what had gotten them through their pain--what might they have to teach me? Then my train darted off in the opposite direction.
I feel that way now. It seems that over the past six to eight months I have bumped into many people from my own far off past. I catch little snippets from our brief conversations, emails, or blogs --mere glimpses through the glass before our lives are hurried off in different directions.
I bumped into a friend of mine that I had not seen in 14 years. His daughter was born with some major medical issues. The medical costs brought the wolves to his door. He lost his job when the housing crunch hit, lost another when the economy sank, lost another when the employer sold to a larger outfit. It seems the wolves at his door just had pups.
Three different friends that I attended college with are going through terrible divorces, custody battles, and legal proceedings. With lives turned upside down, one hand rocks the cradle while the other pulls back the curtain to see if the slam of a car door outside means trouble. I know so few details with all these stories, yet I wish I knew how they all came to these current crossroads.
The list goes on, and again and again I am reminded that despite my awareness or involvement with friends and family, Life kept moving on for them. I am reminded that I once held an important place in their lives and feel to a certain extent, that I might have abandoned my post when they most needed a friend or family member near.
Some might accuse me of only being interested because I am nosey. Others might say that I think I am capable of counseling or coercion saying to themselves..."Humph!... Aaron, a wannabe psychologist for sure. Why else would he want to be audience to someone else's pain?"
Well, I will tell you why.
Several years ago, a small group of boys and I hiked from Cherry Creek over the Sierra Ancha divide. This climb was several thousands of feet in the late summer. It had been a dry year, it was a particularly hot summer, and we had a late start that day. The first watering hole we came to was dry, the second was a spring that according to the map was suppose to run all year, but it wasn't. We were out of water and the only place within a days hike was a remote muddy cow tank. By the time we arrived, our forty pound packs seemed to be cutting through our shoulders. A small bug flew into Mason's mouth; he tried to cough it up. After several attempts, he soon found his mouth was to dry to spit, so he found it easier to just chew and swallow instead.
The cow tank was two inches of brown sludge with a thin green layer across the top. A few tadpoles gulped at the green clouds that the wind shifted on the water's surface, hoping their legs would appear before death did.
One sniff and everyone agreed we needed to find another source of water. Several of the boys were to weak to continue. Mason and Steven being the oldest said they would help scout for water. It was getting close to sun down so we had to move quickly. We ran to the edge of the valley where there was a ragged cliff. At the cliff's base, two small rocky ravines split up the hillside; Mason went left and Steven went right. I climbed straight up the cliff so that I could hear either one call back their findings. I told myself to be careful, everyone was counting on me, I can't make any mistakes now. My footing slipped again and again, my arms were heavy, and my grip was getting clumsy--signs of severe dehydration.
After about twenty minutes both boys shouted back that they had found nothing. I really began to worry as the sun began to set, I asked the boys to head back to camp. I frantically peered from the top of the cliff across the valley, no windmills, no cottonwood or poplars, nothing that might indicate water. I am all alone--it's up to me to find water.
Suddenly, a very strong impression hit me. Like a voice with out sound or a sentence without words, I felt as if someone ask me to sit down and watch the sunset. That's crazy...I have got to save these boys...I haven't got time to rest. I stood there as if in shock, weak as I was, and it came again softly, clearly, but with even more strength in its invitation.
"Sit down, watch the sunset with Me."
I looked around me, then sat at the cliffs edge. With legs dangling and breath caught, I looked at the sunset, and in all my worry, I had not noticed how beautiful and awesome it was. It had colors, it had shapes--it transformed the rocks and hills in its fiery red. As it engulfed me in its hue, something else engulfed me too. I smiled a little, as the last drop of moisture in me formed at the corner of my eye; it felt cool as it trickled down across my sun burnt cheek.
Of all God's creations, worlds without number, and children far more deserving than I, He asked to watch the sunset with little ol' me.
He knew my needs and circumstances. In all my worry and panic...and He just wanted to watch the sunset with one of his children. He knew that what I needed more than water was the reminder that if I trust in my own ability, I will be left in my own ability. As I watched that sunset, I knew that all things were possible by Him, and that I needed to trust Him more by asking directions, and handing over the reins from time to time, rather than trying so hard on my own.
Some might think that this is far too simple of an experience to give any credence to it. This is not for you. But for the others--others who have lost their bearings and have no true north; I caught a glimpse of where I was in the cosmos. I, one who has known the lonely obliteration of intellect as it gobbles a chaotic black hole in the mind, was reminded that despite being a mere speck in the sands of time, that I am greater than the Earth and stars. In that moment, everything was clear, everything made sense; for a split second, I saw myself as He sees me. Some think that a sea must be walked on or a mountain must be moved in order to qualify as a miracle--but that day an impenetrable mountain was moved in me.
I sat and lingered, watched in wondering amazement, until all the colors were extinguished from the sky. I stood up awhile and began to look for a way down to camp. As the breeze often does for a short time at night fall, I felt the smallest breath of wind coming down from the ravine to the right. With it, it carried the pleasant smell... of wet grass!
With excitement, I quickly climbed up the ravine going deeper into the hillside. Probably two minutes farther up from where Steven had turned around in frustration, lay a big pool of clear water trapped by a cropping of granite on one side, and grass growing in silt on the other.
Had I not taken the invitation to stop for a moment and watch the sunset, I would not have been there to catch the scent of wet grass on the breeze.
So I ask again, Why do I wish I was more involved with friends and family? Is it so that I can try to fix their problems? To recommend a twelve step program? No.
It is simply to share my belief that no matter how bad things have been, how terrible things are now, or how devastating things are going to become, the Savior knows us and our circumstances... and will help us to not only endure, but to prevail.
"Behold, I have engraven thee on the palms of my hands and thy walls are continually before me." Isaiah 49:16
Like when I was without water...He knows us and our circumstances all too well...
Like the high cliff... we must elevate our hearts and minds to a place that will transcend us above our worldly cares and attitudes...
Once we are elevated above our own nature, we can purify ourselves enough to be guided by Him, to see ourselves through his eyes... it was only after forgetting myself and handing over the reins that I discovered water.
So if anyone out there is feeling overwhelmed, beat down, or that their prayers are not being answered... well there is this one place in the Sierra Anchas I can recommend...and don't worry about bringing water.
They teetered together as their car began its momentum forward.
After a few cars went by, for what ever reason, the train began to slow. Here again, I looked into the subway car across from me, and another much older couple sat next to each other--he with thinning gray hair slicked back and her in a long grey skirt and a large scarf covering her head in Russian babushka style. Age had furrowed its deep lines across his forehead and weathered the corners of her eyes.
Now I know it was not the same couple, but for a moment, it was like watching the young couple age and go fast-forwarding into the old, each car that had past being a decade of their lives, and finally pausing a moment on their last chapter. I suddenly felt a little cheated; I wanted to rewind and see what I had missed in the car before, and the car before that. What had kept them together over the years--what of life's secrets had they learned--what did they know of joy--what had gotten them through their pain--what might they have to teach me? Then my train darted off in the opposite direction.
I feel that way now. It seems that over the past six to eight months I have bumped into many people from my own far off past. I catch little snippets from our brief conversations, emails, or blogs --mere glimpses through the glass before our lives are hurried off in different directions.
I bumped into a friend of mine that I had not seen in 14 years. His daughter was born with some major medical issues. The medical costs brought the wolves to his door. He lost his job when the housing crunch hit, lost another when the economy sank, lost another when the employer sold to a larger outfit. It seems the wolves at his door just had pups.
Three different friends that I attended college with are going through terrible divorces, custody battles, and legal proceedings. With lives turned upside down, one hand rocks the cradle while the other pulls back the curtain to see if the slam of a car door outside means trouble. I know so few details with all these stories, yet I wish I knew how they all came to these current crossroads.
The list goes on, and again and again I am reminded that despite my awareness or involvement with friends and family, Life kept moving on for them. I am reminded that I once held an important place in their lives and feel to a certain extent, that I might have abandoned my post when they most needed a friend or family member near.
Some might accuse me of only being interested because I am nosey. Others might say that I think I am capable of counseling or coercion saying to themselves..."Humph!... Aaron, a wannabe psychologist for sure. Why else would he want to be audience to someone else's pain?"
Well, I will tell you why.
Several years ago, a small group of boys and I hiked from Cherry Creek over the Sierra Ancha divide. This climb was several thousands of feet in the late summer. It had been a dry year, it was a particularly hot summer, and we had a late start that day. The first watering hole we came to was dry, the second was a spring that according to the map was suppose to run all year, but it wasn't. We were out of water and the only place within a days hike was a remote muddy cow tank. By the time we arrived, our forty pound packs seemed to be cutting through our shoulders. A small bug flew into Mason's mouth; he tried to cough it up. After several attempts, he soon found his mouth was to dry to spit, so he found it easier to just chew and swallow instead.
The cow tank was two inches of brown sludge with a thin green layer across the top. A few tadpoles gulped at the green clouds that the wind shifted on the water's surface, hoping their legs would appear before death did.
One sniff and everyone agreed we needed to find another source of water. Several of the boys were to weak to continue. Mason and Steven being the oldest said they would help scout for water. It was getting close to sun down so we had to move quickly. We ran to the edge of the valley where there was a ragged cliff. At the cliff's base, two small rocky ravines split up the hillside; Mason went left and Steven went right. I climbed straight up the cliff so that I could hear either one call back their findings. I told myself to be careful, everyone was counting on me, I can't make any mistakes now. My footing slipped again and again, my arms were heavy, and my grip was getting clumsy--signs of severe dehydration.
After about twenty minutes both boys shouted back that they had found nothing. I really began to worry as the sun began to set, I asked the boys to head back to camp. I frantically peered from the top of the cliff across the valley, no windmills, no cottonwood or poplars, nothing that might indicate water. I am all alone--it's up to me to find water.
Suddenly, a very strong impression hit me. Like a voice with out sound or a sentence without words, I felt as if someone ask me to sit down and watch the sunset. That's crazy...I have got to save these boys...I haven't got time to rest. I stood there as if in shock, weak as I was, and it came again softly, clearly, but with even more strength in its invitation.
"Sit down, watch the sunset with Me."
I looked around me, then sat at the cliffs edge. With legs dangling and breath caught, I looked at the sunset, and in all my worry, I had not noticed how beautiful and awesome it was. It had colors, it had shapes--it transformed the rocks and hills in its fiery red. As it engulfed me in its hue, something else engulfed me too. I smiled a little, as the last drop of moisture in me formed at the corner of my eye; it felt cool as it trickled down across my sun burnt cheek.
Of all God's creations, worlds without number, and children far more deserving than I, He asked to watch the sunset with little ol' me.
He knew my needs and circumstances. In all my worry and panic...and He just wanted to watch the sunset with one of his children. He knew that what I needed more than water was the reminder that if I trust in my own ability, I will be left in my own ability. As I watched that sunset, I knew that all things were possible by Him, and that I needed to trust Him more by asking directions, and handing over the reins from time to time, rather than trying so hard on my own.
Some might think that this is far too simple of an experience to give any credence to it. This is not for you. But for the others--others who have lost their bearings and have no true north; I caught a glimpse of where I was in the cosmos. I, one who has known the lonely obliteration of intellect as it gobbles a chaotic black hole in the mind, was reminded that despite being a mere speck in the sands of time, that I am greater than the Earth and stars. In that moment, everything was clear, everything made sense; for a split second, I saw myself as He sees me. Some think that a sea must be walked on or a mountain must be moved in order to qualify as a miracle--but that day an impenetrable mountain was moved in me.
I sat and lingered, watched in wondering amazement, until all the colors were extinguished from the sky. I stood up awhile and began to look for a way down to camp. As the breeze often does for a short time at night fall, I felt the smallest breath of wind coming down from the ravine to the right. With it, it carried the pleasant smell... of wet grass!
With excitement, I quickly climbed up the ravine going deeper into the hillside. Probably two minutes farther up from where Steven had turned around in frustration, lay a big pool of clear water trapped by a cropping of granite on one side, and grass growing in silt on the other.
Had I not taken the invitation to stop for a moment and watch the sunset, I would not have been there to catch the scent of wet grass on the breeze.
So I ask again, Why do I wish I was more involved with friends and family? Is it so that I can try to fix their problems? To recommend a twelve step program? No.
It is simply to share my belief that no matter how bad things have been, how terrible things are now, or how devastating things are going to become, the Savior knows us and our circumstances... and will help us to not only endure, but to prevail.
"Behold, I have engraven thee on the palms of my hands and thy walls are continually before me." Isaiah 49:16
Like when I was without water...He knows us and our circumstances all too well...
Like the high cliff... we must elevate our hearts and minds to a place that will transcend us above our worldly cares and attitudes...
Once we are elevated above our own nature, we can purify ourselves enough to be guided by Him, to see ourselves through his eyes... it was only after forgetting myself and handing over the reins that I discovered water.
So if anyone out there is feeling overwhelmed, beat down, or that their prayers are not being answered... well there is this one place in the Sierra Anchas I can recommend...and don't worry about bringing water.
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