Climb…

I love to explore.  Love it.  Like, the kind of exploring that generally means at some point I will be using my problem solving skills to get myself out of where my tendency to over-explore brings me.  For a brief moment yesterday, I almost gave in to that familiar panic that only comes on a one lane road with steep drop-offs on either side.  But instead, I kept going.

On the rare occasion that I have a free afternoon, for as long as I can remember, I’ve never had the desire to go home, no matter how tired I am.  A former boss, when I was in radio, told me once that it was because I didn’t want to face my demons when I got there.  Maybe he’s right.  As a teenager and college student you could find me with my horse, riding trails until it was almost dark.  In college I’d sit in his stall doing homework while he munched his hay.  When I got my driver’s license, I would hop in my truck and drive all over the back roads of Helena, Montana.  I was devastated when gas prices hit $1.05/gallon.  The need to drive; the need to escape; it’s never left me.

Each morning as I drive to work I pass a road that disappears into the trees.  Driving home yesterday I decided I wasn’t going to question where it went.  I was just going to go.  In a world of locked doors and gates, you can’t waste the roads that aren’t.  In five years of living in Nashville, I’ve never gone into Percy Warner Park, so I had no clue that’s where I was going.  There were no signs.

I drove at a steady speed at first, stopping occasionally to snap a picture.  As I started to pull away from one of those stops I saw a white and brown flicker ahead of me.  I stopped the car and strained my eyes.  Deer.  Several white-tail does stood just inside the tree line.  I drove past slowly hoping they would stay long enough for me to get a picture.  They didn’t.  I kept driving, this time slower.

I thought at some point I would come to a parking area where I could turn around.  But the road kept going, winding uphill and down for what seemed like forever.  I eventually came to a fork in the road with a rather large drop-off just ahead of me.  This was the perfect time to quit.  I didn’t know how far the road went and if I’d have another opportunity to turn around.  I got out of the car and looked at my options.  It was cold.  The wind was blowing and snow flurries were flying everywhere.  The feeling of escape wasn’t leaving.  I got back in my car and kept going.  I told myself that God wasn’t going to let anything happen to me.

I almost didn’t see her.  My heart was absolutely racing as we stared at each other.  I’m not sure how long the moment lasted, but eventually she turned and walked deeper into the woods.  I drove less than 30 seconds down the road and stopped again.  I got out and glanced back where the doe had been.  Laughing I looked up at the sky and thanked God.  Snow was flying all around and the trees almost felt alive.  I didn’t want the road to end.  So I kept going.

As I rounded the next bend, there was a building.  Glass walls.  It looked nice.  No one was there and there were no signs to tell me what it was.  I could have turned around there.  But the road kept going and my curiosity was peaked.

Stopping to get out of my car was becoming more and more a part of this adventure.  I wanted to touch the leaves.  Feel the snow hit my cheek.  Breathe the air.  Then another fork.  One dirt road going straight up, or the paved road I’d been on.  The choice was easy.

I’d been driving in silence the entire time and the second to last time I got out I began hearing two lines from a song that had been in my head all day.  At the next fork I could have gone down the hill, or further up.  I turned left.  The words kept repeating in my head, almost relentlessly.  My car hugged the left side of the lane tightly.  The right side was a drop off I really didn’t want to experience.  I could see the top of the hill from the road.  I wasn’t looking for a way up, but there it was.  The words played in my head again.

“So climb to the highest point, scream in your loudest voice…”

At the very top there were three smooth, log benches.  I sat on the middle one and looked out.  The snow was falling harder.  The words rolled again.  I didn’t scream.  I didn’t need to.  I can’t explain it.  I just knew that I wasn’t alone.  I glanced up to the sky for the longest time and let my heart do the screaming.  I felt so torn.  On one hand I felt lost, and the other, I felt comforted.  I began to pray.  I couldn’t even tell you what all fell out.  Desperation mostly.  To be understood.  To be wanted.  To be directed.  To be the woman God has intended me to be.

And then the words left.  Almost like the wind had carried them off, as well as the desire for escape that had been fueling my afternoon drive.  I stood up and carefully walked down the hill and rock-steps.  It was time to go home.  The snow continued to fall and I eventually drove out of the park and joined the rest of the world.

“The LORD will fight for you; you need only be still.” (Exodus 14:14)

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