To the Things I've Held

Dear Heavenly Father,

When I committed to hiking the West Butte Trail, it was partly because several inches of fresh snow had fallen, and I pictured tromping through a glorious winter wonderland. Sadly, when I went to bed the night before, I could hear raindrops hitting my window, and that picture turned into a muddy, icy mess. I didn’t want to go and wasn’t sure if I could go if the trail conditions were poor.

A fitting mood, as I recently felt a nudge from you to set things right in my life—to let go. I didn’t want to or even know if I could.

The morning came, and I kept my commitment. I geared up and got on the trail. My crampons crunching on the rain-covered snow was the only noise accompanying my thoughts. I let memories surface, memories that sting, memories I haven’t thought about for years, and any emotion attached to them. I imagined leaving the past behind in the footprints made by the spikes on my hiking shoes.

I stopped to take my jacket off, and a flock of about 30 little birds leapt out of the trees, chirping to each other, then flew away. I thought about the women I’ve been talking to, not just lately but throughout my life, and how each has shaped my path in some way.

I continued up the trail. One thought replaced all others. “I am the mountain,” repeated again and again until I said the words aloud, marching all the way to the top.

I stood face-to-face with Pioneer Peak. Father, am I the mountain, or was it the voice of my Heavenly Mother telling me She is the mountain? If She is the mountain, and you see me the way you see Her, then I must be the mountain too; strong, magnificent.

I sat on a cold rock and read my prayer with the wind blowing at its edges. When I was done, I tore the paper into a pile of tiny pieces. I let a few at a time blow in the wind. Each fluttered away, taking with it the sting of a past memory, until only one piece was left. I looked, and on that one piece there was one word, “Amen.” I held it tight. I kissed it and let a tear drop down. My final "Amen" to the things I’ve held. I let it go and whispered I love you because I do.

I headed back down the trail with a clear mind. Only one question came to me, “Can I... can one person move heaven?” If I asked you, Father, would you strengthen the hearts of your daughters and magnify their voices?

I’m starting to see a pattern in our prayers, Father, and a completion. We will talk again soon.

Your Daughter Sincerely,

Emily

Amen.