Double Meanings

Double Meanings

Sarah and Danelle

Sarah and Danelle

Around eight years ago, my daughter Sarah and her friend Danelle spent a weekend at a remote cabin. The property, owned by Danelle’s family, is located near the Boulder River, south of Big Timber, Montana. The girls were in their early twenties, a time of life when it’s tempting to think you’re immortal. But that early spring day, they ended up in a perilous situation.

ATV in MTThey headed out on a four-wheeler to find another friend’s cabin, which they thought was only a few miles away. The damp air felt cool with temperatures in the forties. Danelle remembers patches of snow still on the ground.

Following the river, they eventually came to a narrow bridge. They’d need to cross it, but the gate was locked. They tried climbing around the gate to the outside ledge of the bridge, but that didn’t work. So, rolling up their pants the girls decided to cross the river, stepping from boulder to boulder. The hip-high current of white roiling water was nearly twenty-five yards wide. The girls got a little wet in the process.

Snowmelt water is dangerously cold, and they didn’t actually know the location of the other cabin. Without the four-wheeler, they wouldn’t make much progress. The girls soon realized the futility of their plan and turned back. But when they got to the four-wheeler, the key was missing. It had been in Danelle’s coat pocket.

KeysI don’t know if you’ve ever seen a key quite that small. The black head is the size of a nickel, and the silver metal part is thin and only a ¾ of an inch long. The girls searched frantically around the four-wheeler and in all their pockets. Sarah even crossed over the rocks to comb the other shore.

Still no key.

They were in the middle of nowhere. No cell coverage, no car or truck likely to pass by. No one to help. To walk back to Danelle’s cabin in their compromised condition would have been dicey. They were miles away. Hypothermia catches many people off guard. It’s tragically easy to underestimate the elements in Montana.

Danelle and Sarah gazed at the river with wondering eyes. Panic set in.

Sarah said, “Let’s pray.” So they paused and asked God for help. Afterwards, Sarah retraced their steps across the river. Danelle yelled, “If you find that key in the river… I’ll believe that God is real!”

My daughter worked her way across the fast-moving water. You couldn’t see the bottom at all. By one specific boulder, she felt God say, “Here.” She stripped down to her underwear to keep her clothes mostly dry. Still, she’d have to go into the water—a risky choice given the temperatures. There was no other way.Continue reading

Treasuring Divine Happenstance

Treasuring Divine Happenstance

Last week I shared about why I bought this painting. God had woven together three things: a pregnancy dream, a talk by Ray Hughes about saying “Yes” to God, and the symbolism in the painting. The message?

Continue writing.

Patrisha's painting at the Ray Hughes conference

Patrisha’s painting at the Ray Hughes conference

But a fourth piece to this puzzle remains. I didn’t explain the wave. Did you notice the wave coming over the land and not the sea? In mountainous areas like Montana, massive waters like a sea or an ocean don’t exist.

To complete the story of this encounter with God, I have to give you another piece of divine happenstance. Soon after finishing my first book, I had another vivid dream:

I am crossing a landscape scarred by a hurricane long ago. Wreckage is strewn about in all directions as far as the eye can see. Jagged planks of lumber, shattered window frames, pieces of boats, empty cans, broken wooden chairs, driftwood, shells and other rubble fill every square foot of land. Any stench is long gone, and the debris looks clean—whitened by the sun.

I carefully step over the wreckage, making my way toward a beautiful azure sea that is a mile out. I can see the thin strip of deep blue water on the horizon. The sky is crisp and clear with no hint of haze. A few lovely white clouds dapple the atmosphere.

This picture is as close as I could find, but doesn’t quite capture the miles of sun-bleached remains.

This picture is as close as I could find, but doesn’t quite capture the miles of sun-bleached wreckage.

Way out in front of me, I notice one other person. It’s Kathy Tyers, my first writing mentor. She seems to be making the same trek. She gestures dramatically, waving a complete sweep of her arm again and again, as if to say, “Come on, Susan! Keep going! Don’t give up! Follow me!” But she’s so far ahead, I can’t hear her voice.

It could take awhile to get there. I continue, step by step.

All of a sudden, I hear a faraway low rumble. Perhaps a plane is taking off. It starts to increase in volume. Something powerful begins to roar—a noise so loud it sounds like several planes, then 100 planes, and now 1,000 airplanes taking off all at once. The ground vibrates in violent unison, as I look backwards…Continue reading

Moonlight Limitations

Moonlight Limitations

“The Bible without the Holy Spirit is a sundial by moonlight.”

—Dwight L. Moody (1837-1899)

In the summer of 1991, Duncan and I travelled to Cody Wyoming to look at a piece of land down the south fork of the Shoshone River. At the time, we considered buying 13 acres that included a small house to help Young Life start a backpack program. Two YL staffers drove up from Colorado Springs to meet us and see the lay of the land. It is a stunning area, similar to Yellowstone Park.

As we stood on the lot, I thought about our own backpack trip in 1978. photo 1

The trailhead was just down the road. We had hiked from there over the mountains into the Greybull headwaters to fly-fish.

It was thick grizzly country, and I had a tiny can of mace.

It was also our honeymoon—and you guessed it—my husband picked the trip!

 

 

The Bible says, “Who is this coming up from the wilderness
 leaning on her beloved?”           (Song of Solomon 8:5)

photo 4

That would be me—sleep deprived and weary. How does one slumber with the thought of bears lurking? I also grew some whopping blisters on my heels the size of sand dollars. At certain points near the end of the trip, I did more than lean. My husband actually carried me across places in the river to keep my feet dry. Very kind.

Hypothetically speaking, if he had taken Song of Solomon 8:5 as a confirmation for an idyllic backpack honeymoon, he would’ve been reading by moonlight! 

A wilderness to him was a pristine area. To me, it was a desert experience. The same word can mean very different things.

I survived the honeymoon. photo 2

He didn’t mean to cause any trouble or hardship. He just wanted to fish!

Footprints in Sand

Next time we’d go here…

 

Back to the lot in Wyoming:  The current resident in the little house on 13 acres was an outfitter. He guided trips for people to hunt and fish in the backcountry. When we arrived, he was busy packing a string of horses with gear, food, tents and other provisions to set up a fishing camp. But it was late in the day.

The outfitter said he preferred to travel at night. “You can see quite a lot under a full moon.” He wouldn’t run into any other pack trains or have to back up on a narrow trail. I think he was a loner at heart.

“What about bears?” I asked, remembering my nights hunkered in the tent, with mace in hand. Bears were always a risk, he said. They tended to be more active when the hot sun went down. Still, he left anyway.

I pictured him and all the horses making their way through the dark forest by moonlight. I thought him very brave.

Historically, much of humankind has navigated spiritually by moonlight, so to speak.Continue reading