The Journey

This is my first non-poetry entry. It is a journal-like account of my experiences during my journey to Montana, and will hopefully give you an idea of what I encountered & gleaned from my time away.
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"You hem me in behind and before,
and you lay your hand upon me." (Psalm 139:5)

I recently returned from a journey that made quite an impact upon me. It was a journey in more ways than one; physically, it was 850 miles each way, and emotionally & spiritually it was also an adventure. When I first saw the invite to this Writers' Retreat, I was instantly intrigued and it was not long before I knew I must attend. Despite having a strong sense that I was supposed to go, I had many reservations & reasons to be anxious about going. It was way out of my comfort zone and not something I would normally do. First, there was the long drive: am I capable of making such a long trip alone, safely & how will it be, as I have never done it before? Second, in spite of my extroverted nature, I am usually shy, so going somewhere I've never been and doing so knowing no one else was certainly uncomfortable. Then there was the writing portion: could I really write for 6-8 hours a day, and then share what I'd written with these strangers? And yet I knew that this experience was made for me, and therefore made plans to attend regardless of my concerns. I knew God would bless me for my obedience, whatever shape these blessings took.

Before I even began my journey, I received signs & signals that this trip was in some ways, providence. There was the invitation itself - it was not given directly to me, rather I saw on Facebook that a friend had replied to the invite and so I explored the link. And on the day before I left home, as I sat at a stop light, the car in front of me had a Montana license plate cover; a small tidbit, but one I took to be meaningful just the same. As I began my drive east toward Montana at 2am, I hoped & prayed I could do this. Even a couple of hours into the journey, doubts plagued my mind and emotions. Then the first of several more occurrences began, which I felt were truly signs from God. The moon, just a thumbnail-shaped sliver, was low in the eastern sky, clear and leading me onward. Later, as I crested the hill into the Tri-Cities, the sun began to rise over the horizon; the tones of orange in the sky were a concrete reminder of God's abiding love for me. It was as if He was drawing me onward toward my destination, and I gained a renewed sense of energy & purpose as I drove. There was also the first red-tailed hawk of the morning, watching over me from a lamp post as I passed by (God has been using hawks to signal His presence to me for awhile); I felt a clear sense of protection over my trip.

Once in Montana, I was struck by the beauty of the landscape; the mountains, countryside and clear skies helped distract me from the length of the journey. At some point, I caught glimpse of a sign along the road that said "Clark Fork." I gave it little thought, except to assume it was the name for that fork of the river, and continued on. However, the further I got, the more that I noticed these signs, all saying "Clark Fork," and it struck me as a bit odd. Finally, after seeing no less than a dozen of these signs, I said aloud to myself (and ultimately God), "Ok, I see now. It's for me," to which God replied, "Of course it is." Then I noticed how beautiful the area around these signs was, and knew He was thinking, "Finally, you noticed" and rolling His eyes in amusement.

When I finally reached my destination, I was exhausted but also victorious. Now the second half of my journey would begin, and I would see what God really had in store for me & my writing here. I had hoped to get time to begin writing that day, but my arrival was later than I had anticipated; I simply began preparing for the days to come. The spiritual atmosphere was clear & palpable, which was reassuring and aided by Pam's deep intercession. It was easy to be inspired in this place, and I found there were several quiet nooks to be alone & let the Holy Spirit guide my pen. I had a couple of writing goals in mind for the weekend; most importantly, I wanted to be open to the Spirit's leading, and if I ended up simply worshiping and encountering God, that would be more than enough for me.

Ultimately, the weekend was surely a time of just that: encounters with God. He met me when & how I needed Him; sometimes through the flutter of the butterflies or the sound of the raging river, others by inspiring a piece I can be proud of, and still others through the prayers of a new-found friend. In the end, I saw the box I had put myself into as a writer, and realized I could & wanted to break free. I would stop labeling myself in certain ways, saying I do not, cannot or am not; instead I would allow God to move in and through me however He wants to. I do not know what that looks like, especially in regards to my writing, but it is most definitely a gift of true freedom.

"Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom." (2 Corinthians 3:17)

6/21/2012