Streams and Scraped Knees
Theodore Roosevelt National Park - North Unit (Watford City, North Dakota)
I’m not a very avid hiker. I enjoy taking walks, but taking hikes in the wilderness is not something I do regularly. Recently, I was invited to take a wilderness hike with some friends for a going-away party. We planned to go to the North Unit of Theodore Roosevelt National Park (about two hours from my home). I had only been to the North Unit once before and had taken the route by car. One of my friends, Kelsey, who was going with us has a disability that makes walking difficult. I decided to wear shorts and sandals because I thought we would take the easy trails for her. Without thinking too much about my wilderness hiking plan, I shoved four water bottles into my hiking bag and headed out the door to meet the carpool.
As my friends and I drove through the park, I was reminded of the ruggedness of Spain -- how much it all looked like the valley where I used to live in Camarma de Esteruelas, Madrid. We spotted and stopped for the roaming buffalo. We talked about the different types of trails and various hiking experiences. Once we arrived at the end of the park road, I quickly realized that everyone (except me) was wearing hiking gear and shoes. I quickly talked up how comfortable my sandals were and how it was going to be a great hike. I even offered a bottle of water from my bag to a friend. I was unprepared, and my pride was trying to fix the situation.
We approached the edge of the cliff, I soon realized the error of my thinking. There was no way that pride could run home and change shoes. The only way forward was down the steep and narrow path on the face of the cliff. I watched my more adventurous friends run successfully down at full speed. I started to carefully make my way down the cliff face. Upon the first step, the gravel slipped, but I quickly recovered. I should have worn my running shoes. I continued forward with caution, crouching down to avoid slipping down the steep edge. Everyone was struggling down the loose desert gravel. Just ahead of me was Kelsey, carefully descaling the cuesta with the support of a walking stick and two other friends. Once she was at the bottom, it was just me and another friend who were left on the bluff.
On the last 30 feet of the path, I had a sudden burst of courage to run the rest of the way down. Kelsey was safely at the bottom, and I had a clear path forward. Without much thought of my previous struggles down the face, I stood up and tried to use speed to my advantage.
I didn’t really know what had happened until I heard the group gasp at me. I felt fine until I looked down to see that my entire left leg was covered in blood. My right foot was hanging out of my sandal. Everything hurt from the waist down. I decided to sit down to tend to my leg. I pulled out two of the water bottles to scrub the sand and gravel away from the wounds. I had no first-aid kit. Someone had some homemade lip balm, and another person had an ankle-support wrap. There was no way I would be able to make it back up the hill in this condition to seek medical support. We soothed the deep scrapes with the chapstick and wrapped it up. This was going to be as good as it got until I got out of this hot, barren land.
We continued along the trail, periodically taking breaks for my leg. The way forward was difficult as there were many more downhill slopes and water ruts. The further along we got on the trail, the more help I needed navigating the simplest downhill slopes. After about 45 minutes, we merged alongside green woods and streams that led to the mighty Missouri River.
As I walked along the path, looking at the gently flowing stream, I felt the Holy Spirit whisper to me.
He lets me rest in green meadows. He leads me beside peaceful streams. He renews my strength.
The problem along this journey was not my leg nor my companionship. Rather, my attitude before the journey had been one that relied only on my own knowledge and how I could fend for myself. In that moment, the Holy Spirit reminded me that my spiritual journey with him is very much like this hike through the hot valley. I cannot walk this journey of life on my own. Failure to be humble and honest in what I need results in spiritual damage. My pride in this past season led to an extremely difficult and hurtful burnout. However, He was faithful and just to renew my spirit and lead me from the desert of Madrid and into flourishing meadows.
You let me rest in green meadows. Looking back at my time in Spain, I see now that the Holy Spirit was teaching me rhythms of rest.
You lead me beside peaceful streams. He was teaching me submission to Him.
You renew my strength. He was teaching me that my strength is only found in Him.
So when I am walking through the desert valley, and the slippery sand is going to give way, may my soul lean into His Spirit and listen to His voice. He is with me in the desert valley, leading me to a place of renewal and rest.
