and then you’ll know

wow. has it really been this long since I wrote here? I couldn’t believe it when I signed in and saw the dates on my latest entries. wow. I have been writing elsewhere – my public blog, in a journal for therapy.

I’m tired now, but I do have something to write about. it’s just that what happened today was so incredible that no writing could recreate it.

it’s my last week with the disabled person I work for. I finally decided to quit after a few weeks that I had to help him change his clothes and get into bed. I don’t remember if I wrote about it here. did I?

anyway, today he wanted me to change his clothes. more than once. I tried to get out of it. I almost started crying while I did it. my shift was past over, so I left, but I just wanted to cry. so I stopped at my favorite hiking place. sometimes it’s very helpful, sometimes not. sometimes I just stay near the car – walk in the creek or something. sometimes I hike up a trail that climbs up to a ridge and follows it. it really depends.

the trail – which is several miles long – is split by the road. I have always crossed the road and hiked up that way. on the side of the road with the parking lot is the creek – so I usually stay near the creek. the creek is dry now, so that’s out. today I followed the trail on the side with the creek for the first time.

I paused on the bridge where the path crossed the creek. my pause mirrored the hesitance I’m feeling in my life. I wasn’t sure if I had decided to move forward or go back. the bridge stood at the place where the road was beginning to fade away and the hills were beginning to reveal themselves.

I started walking into the woods, disregarding the disappearing road behind me. I kept walking, but I stayed in the place of hesitance – right on the edge of tears, but undecided whether to cry or not. so instead, I started talking to God – out loud. it’s beautiful when you talk to God and know that while you’re speaking out loud, only God is around to hear you. I hate praying out loud with others – but I love talking out loud to God. and the woods is the best place to do that – while you’re talking to God, you’re looking around at nature and SEEING God in everything around you.

I started by talking about how distant I feel from God. I worked through that topic, then started talking about my job fears and worries. my guilt yet need to quit this job, my fear at not having another one lined up, my worries about what these jobs and failures and possible failures mean for me and my career. I talked through that problem – reminded that I have been through such scary periods before but always miraculously found just the ride job – and moved onto the next issue: how much it’s been bothering me lately to be single among married people.

as I talked, my steps mirrored my voice. I spoke quietly and slowly, taking my time and speaking my thoughts as they came. there were pauses and rushes in my speaking. at times, tears fell. the same went for my steps as I climbed a gradual hill. I stepped softly and without the need for speed or destination. my steps came at the speed of the decisions of my thoughts, and at times there were pauses or rushes: pausing to choose the route over a log or enjoy the view, rushes to jump a log or push up a hill.

as I talked my way into the topic of dating and singlehood and my ambivalent feelings, I paused from time to time to decide if I should continue or go back. I started the hike at dusk, and the parking lot is locked before dark – I was scared my car would get locked in. but every time I considered turning back, there was something to convince me to continue: there’s a log up ahead – that’s a good marker to end the hike and remember for next time I come up. but it looks like there a cool look-out up ahead, I better check that out. the trail turns next – I wonder what’s up there? and so on.

I talked my way into the hopelessness: I don’t see how I could ever wind up happy with someone when I’m still so terrified of men – all men. I said I wished God had made me a lesbian so I could avoid the whole thing. at the same time, I saw a steep hill up ahead – it looked like it might finally be the top of ridge – so I decided not to turn back yet. I followed up my statement with the verbalized realization that if I had become a lesbian just to avoid all of the problems, I would never get to experience working through it. I wouldn’t be a good therapist if I avoided my own biggest problem. as I said this, I was climbing a steep hill.

I continued with the realization that all of these hard things I’m going through have a positive purpose and end as I reached the top of the ridge. I almost couldn’t finish my final sentence – it ended at the exact moment I reached the top of the hill. the path led to the top of the ridge, which was perfectly flat and smooth, and there was a tree in the exact center. the path – with it’s pale brown dirt and tiny pebbles, widened into a broad circle around the tree. the dismal thin path continued as an afterthough off to the side – I forgot to look for it at first.

the tree wasn’t particularly large. it was actually two trees that had grown from a single trunk. but it was absolutely beautiful.

I broke down next to the tree, bursting into tears as I tried to keep talking. I slid down to my knees, letting go of my walking stick and covering my face with my hands. I was absolutely amazed to realize that all this time I was talking to God – at times feeling that I truly was just talking to only myself – God was actually listening AND talking back.

I stood, turned in slow circles around my new safe place, and I verbalized what I felt God must be telling me: no matter how hard and hopeless things are, no matter how alone I feel or far from God, I just have to keep moving forward. I don’t know what’s ahead, and I have little more than the curiosity of the next bend, the landmark of the next log, to keep me moving forward. but eventually, almost without even realizing it, I will come up to the top. I will finally understand everything, and everything will finally be beautiful.

I said these things in the third person, as though I was quoting exactly what God was telling me. I repeated the phrase, “and then you’ll know.” when I reach the top of the hill, find beauty and understanding, that’s when I’ll know. I looked at three other ridges, rising miles away from where I stood, and I looked at the treetops all around me – all of them lower than where I stood. I looked at the smooth and open ground, and a tree made for lounging in its limbs.

and in a few minutes, I started walking down. I walked down faster, but continued speaking softly to God. on the way down, I worked through all of the positive answers in more detail – how I found God here, when I didn’t think I could, how I can trust God now, even when I don’t have a job, how I can work through still being single and okay with it.

it’s funny how trees are the center of meaning for me. I bet that could be the theme for a book one day. the giant oak tree in our yard growing up – that wouldn’t burn after it fell. it held so much symbolic meaning for growing up and that period when it wouldn’t burn.

there’s the tree at the top of the other ridge, my other safe place – it’s so much larger than the on

es surrounding, and serves as a form of an entrance to the safe place – you pass under it to get there. it’s size and strength and guard at the entrance makes me feel protected there.

and today, the tree was undoubtably the center of the ridge. what stands out about this tree was not its size, strength, function, or stubbornness. it’s the fact that it was two trees grown from a single root system. it reminded me that as alone as I feel, ultimately, I am not alone. that root system – that’s God. we’re all connected, and we’re all ultimately connected to God.

I’ll have to do more thinking sometime to think of more symbolic trees in my life. oh! the climbing tree at gramma’s! that one was all about defiance. and the trees in Dante’s 6th ring or hell. or 7th, or something. I remember so little about the Inferno, except for the assigned hell of the suicides. I’ll never forget that.

okay, seriously. bed.