Vitamin Seen

I was young, and I was pregnant. My joints had started to loosen in that pregnancy way, giving and swaying and combining with my blossoming belly to create a different stride, a necessity to check my balance when traversing tough terrain. I'd been hiking with Chris on a down, down, down track for what felt like too long, wandering through shadowy groves of surprisingly mundane-looking koa trees. Surprising, because these trees produce some of the most beautiful wood grain I've ever known. This created a vague sense of disappointment that I just couldn't shake. I'd expected gnomes, or sun-dappled moss, or at least an occasional bright flower. We were on the island of Kauai, after all. Garden island of our most tropical state. Where was the magic, the palm trees, the sun?

I kept these thoughts to myself, of course. Even in my sweaty state, I recognized the privilege I'd been granted by even having this adventure in the first place. We were staying on the island for several weeks for Chris's job, a job that required only a few hours a day. A paid vacation in paradise? Yes, I could quell my complaints with no problem.

And so, I kept walking. My knees began to feel tender. Eventually, our descent leveled off and we picked our way among dank and rotting old growth. Ahead, it appeared things might open up. A whiff of fresh air, a shaft of light, an occasional breeze. And then -

And then, I found myself gasping. 

In what felt like an instant, we'd emerged from the gloom. I stood atop a sheer cliff, and the Crayola-blue ocean spread out beneath me in an impossible, wide arc of color. On both sides, our cliff moved away in endless contours, the shoreline looping in and out, the rocks glistening with ocean mist and covered in the green plants of paradise. White froth rose and fell far below, a delicate, living border contrasting with the darkness of the rocks and the tint of the sea.

I inhaled. 

I inhaled again. 

The wind whipped at my hair, my shoelaces, my still-roomy maternity shirt. The sweat evaporated from my body and a shiver coursed through my body. 

Once more, I inhaled. The beauty had struck me like lightning, like an unexpected, loud sound. I simply could not catch my breath. 

While I kept on gasping, we wandered our own private promontory. The ocean air gusted around us. We said witty things like, "Oh," and "Wow." And eventually, I grew tired. Honestly, it didn't take long. The experience had shot me through with adrenaline and acted like a marathon on my nervous system. Call it weakness, call it maternity, call it being a neophyte traveler. Whatever the case, this moment made an impact upon me that lingers today. I remember it now, and my breath still catches. My nose tingles in that pre-crying way that. And I'm back.

Back in the embrace of the wind and the sun. Back with my husband and that dear, tiny life growing inside my womb. Back under the dome of God's sky, with the noise of His glory roaring in the waves far below. 

I remember, and I'm there again. And then, of course, I go on. We didn't stay there forever, after all. We ate our lunch, said more witty phrases, and started back. Back through the unmagical forest and the disturbing, fetid air. Back up the endless, unlovely climb. Back to the normal sun on a normal island in normal, everyday paradise. And later, back to our lives on the mainland, the birth of our first son, our jobs, our friends, and the future that we're live today. 

But even though I know we went back, a piece of me has always remained. Deep in some quiet kernel of my mind, I still see that sacred place. I see the ocean haze, I feel the tiny pricks of moisture. The sun's passionate gaze warms my skin. And the thundering voice of  my God fills my soul.   . 

Do you have a place like that, too? Allow your mind to return there whenever it needs. There's an infusion of truth in those spaces, I think. A recognition of our identity in proportion to God and His world. They make us feel small, of course - and we are. But in the seeing of my sacred space, I find that I also feel known. The Power that made this panorama also, mysteriously, made me. And because He gave me the ability to encounter it, I feel seen. I am a part of His creation. And thus I am valued. I'm safe.  

I haven't visited my place in some time. But I did so today, and now, I feel renewed. I wish the same renewal for for you.