Here I am

When I spent a weekend recently at Bishop’s Ranch, in Northern California, at an Advent retreat, I decided one misty morning to take a hike in the country surrounding the property. It had been raining for several days so the soil was soggy as I trudged up the pathway, each step dipping into the moist ground. It was actually a delicious sensation to walk over piles of wet leaves, as the light rain drizzled on my cheeks.

Not too far along, the rain began to fall more heavily, so I pulled my hood up and kept going. The forest grew dark under the gray sky, making me wonder when I would reach the hilltop into the open field. I didn’t have a trail map, since the property wasn’t large and I took a loop suggested by a jogger I met when I started out. “You’ll be fine,” she reassured me. But as the forest became more dense, I began to worry if there were mountain lions in the area, which there could be, but I didn’t let my mind crawl deeper into that thought.

Finally, I reached a turn in the path, and followed it up the hill only to find out that it took me to a dead end. By now, I began to notice that fear had arrived. I didn’t know where I was or where I was headed.  I could turn around and find my way back to where I started, but no, I didn’t want to do that. The fear and uncertainty were growing, until I said to myself: Here I am. I am walking. I need to keep my attention on walking.

I tried another side path up the hill, and fortunately it led me to a small gate, which I could open and pass through. I keep walking to the sound of a chorus of cows mooing loudly around me, even though I couldn’t see them. I didn’t know where I was. But I was walking. And that’s what I needed to do: Walk. I become completely immersed in walking–feeling my feet touching the wet earth, step by step. And as I walked, I didn’t notice the fear anymore–or at least it wasn’t very strong anymore. I felt the rain on my cheeks; my feet on the earth; my heart joyful.

I finally found my way through the gate, recognizing where I was, and made my way back to my group singing in the Chapel. I took off my wet coat, slipped into the back row, and began singing. Here I am. Walking is stronger than fear.