[Faith-talk] Daily Thought for Friday, August 22, 2014

[Paul]

No folks, this isn't the second daily thought for the day.  I just made a mistake earlier.  Anyway I hope that you are all doing well, no matter what time of day it is or time of day where you live in this world.

Today we're going to do a bit of a trip with our contributor, Daniel Duncan of Phoenix, Arizona.  His piece is entitled "Alone" and is rendered as follows:

Nothing beats how close I feel to God when I'm sitting by myself on a mountain in the High Uintas Wilderness in northern Utah.  Just me, the mountain, and God.  There's a peace and serenity about it I can't describe.  After all, I thought as I started up a mountain one July day last summer, none of us is ever really alone.  God is always nearby.

I'd taken this trail twice before, but both times I had to turn back due to bad weather.  The trail crosses a mountain pass at 12,400 feet, just below King's Peak, connecting the dots of other trails I'd hiked, so the rocky ground was familiar.

I hiked four days over the pass and down into the basin beyond.  Sometimes I enjoyed the company of others for a while, but soon enough I was on my own again.  On the fourth night I set up my tent by a lake and gazed at the stars.  Tomorrow I'll check out that chain of lakes, I thought as I drifted off to sleep.  I'd heard bull moose were known to drink from them and hoped to get a picture.

As I was coming up over the pass the next day it started to rain.  Just have to be more careful, I thought, spiking the ground with my hiking staff.  I stepped onto a wet rock and slid forward too quickly to break my fall.  My left knee came down on a sharp rock.  "Ow!"

My whole kneecap felt like it was torn loose.  I couldn't stand.  Not even with my staff tied like a splint around my leg.  God had felt so close last night when I lay beneath the stars.  Now in the light of day I found myself wondering how He would ever get me off this mountain.

I dragged myself backward, sitting on my rear and pushing myself with my hands on my one good leg.  I set up my tent and shoved my gear inside.  At least my knee doesn't hurt that much as long as I don't try to stand, I thought, reaching for my water bladders.  "Oh, no!"

They'd come open as I dragged my pack over the rocks and now they were nearly empty.  "Okay," I told myself.  "Sooner or later someone will come to the trail and help." And God will stay with me while I wait.

Two days later nothing had changed.  I was still completely alone without much food and no more water.  Time was up.  If I stayed here I'd just get weaker and more dehydrated.  Early next morning I gathered my strength.  I scooted my way up to a high vantage point and scanned the basin below.  A small pond sparkled a few miles away.  I stuffed my fanny pack with my two water bladders, a filter pump and a couple of energy bars.  I summoned some courage and started down the mountain, using my hiking staffs to guide me between the rocks and scrub brush, pushing my bad leg out in front of me.

It was late in the day when I reached the pond.  I drank as much water as I could and filled my water bladders to brimming.  I'll just follow the route I took down here, I told myself as I started off backward up the mountain, looking over my shoulder to get my bearings.  Push my hands straight down at the shoulders, lift my behind, push back a few inches with my good leg.  And again.  And again.  All night long I continued this routine, with only the full moon to light my way.  When the sun came up I still hadn't made it back.  I took a wrong turn, I thought.  This isn't the trail I set my tent on.  How will I ever find it again? I couldn't do anything for the day except rest.

At sunset I curled up on a rock for warmth.  I gazed hopelessly at the ground around me:  a patch of scrub, some rocks, the outline of the mountain trail.  "God, I don't know how I got myself into this predicament, but I can't get myself out of it.  Please, please help me!" I called out to Him until I fell asleep.

The next morning I woke to the feel of the sun on my face.  Where am I? This wasn't the place I'd gone to sleep.  That patch of scrub I'd studied the night before was gone, and so were the rocks.  The mountain sloped at a completely different angle.  I couldn't have moved anywhere, I thought.  I could barely move when I was awake, much less in my sleep.

I rolled to my left.  Someone sat nearby looking out over the basin.  Where had he come from? Had this person somehow moved me during the night?

I struggled to sit myself up so I could speak to the stranger.  But the spot where he'd been sitting a moment ago was empty.  Was the sun playing tricks on me? Was I seeing things? Looking around for an explanation, I realized where I was:  back on the trail I'd lost!

Now I'll be found for sure, I thought.  Why I had such absolute confidence, I didn't know.  I was still alone and injured, but I set off with new strength toward my tent.  The rain started again, and before it could dampen my spirits I spotted four men on horses coming over the ridge.

"Hello!" I called.  "Help! Please help!"

The men on horseback were sheepherders.  They only spoke Spanish but understood I needed help.  The largest shepherd picked me up in his arms--probably much the way he would carry one of his sheep--and carried me along the trail to my tent.  The others filled my water bladders.  They assured me they would come back.  I collapsed in my sleeping bag and slept.

A troop of Boy Scouts coming over the pass woke me.  "Am I happy to see you guys!" I told them.

One of the troop leaders had a cell phone.  "I'll have to climb up to the pass to get a signal." My ordeal was coming to an end.  After days of solitude I was surrounded by people.  The shepherds returned to check on me, the scout leaders listened to my story, and the boys kept me company till help could arrive.  By afternoon paramedics had loaded me into a helicopter.

At the hospital the doctor explained that the sharp rock had severed the patellar tendon in my leg.  I would need surgery to walk again.  "And no hiking for a while!" he said.

So many people played a part in my rescue:  the doctors, my physical therapist, the paramedics, the sheepherders, the Boy Scouts, but they never would have found me if not for that mysterious stranger I'd glimpsed on the mountain.  The one who brought me to the right trail at just the right time for me to be discovered.  Thanks to him, I was brought closer to help, closer to rescue and, most of all, closer to God.  He could only have been an angel.

And there you have Daniel's article which I trust made you a little more aware that God takes care of each and every one of us, even at times when we don't realize it.

This story reminded me of an incident that occurred while I was in China.  Halfway between the cities of Xingjiang and Harbin in the northeastern part of that country, our train stopped so that we could take a look at some ancient ruins.  Well, my sighted guide Ed and I wandered off by ourselves and, before we knew it, we were out of sight of the rest of our group.  Wouldn't you know it, but a lady from Portland Oregon originally came along and, seeing our predicament, directed us back to our group.  It was not only fortunate that she came along at just the right time, but that she spoke English, as my Mandarin Chinese was extremely limited.

And now may the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob just keep us safe, individually and collectively, in these last days in which we live.  Lord willing, tomorrow there will be another daily thought article for you.  Your Christian friend and brother, Paul