My first encounter with the Living God was in the forest when I was 15 years old. It was morning meditation time at youth camp and I was bored of the required assignment. I put my workbook down and just decided to soak in the present moment. Sitting there on a large rock, I took in the smells, sounds, and sights of the cool Vermont mountainside. I tuned in to the silence of the forest music. I felt the warmth of the sun on one knee where the rays managed to make it past the dense treetop cover. My breathing slowed down long enough to enjoy the pungent earthy smells of the moss and decaying foliage, mixed with the fragrance of the lake on my hair. Next to my rock was a pair of adolescent trees each small enough for my index finger and thumb to wrap around them. What caught my attention was the way they grew in parallel like the supports of a hobbit ladder. Three quarters of the way up, the slightly larger of the two stretched it’s arm over toward the other one but before it made contact, it branched into a “V” and straddled the slightly smaller tree as if to guide its growth. I heard a crystal clear voice coming from inside my head say, “I am the larger tree and you are the smaller. I am beside you making sure that you grow up straight and true.” Still stunned with the strangeness of the voice, I felt a rush of joy fill my body. I knew that Jesus had spoken to me even though he skipped the introductions. Without thinking, I leapt off my rock and started jumping and shouting for joy, shattering the stillness of the forest and undoubtedly disturbing my fellow students.
Out of breath, I finally found my Episcopal minister, Father Pettit, to tell him that I heard directly from God. Instead of rejoicing and affirming my supernatural encounter with the Living God, he looked confused. He did not connect with my experience at all; he was simply happy that I was growing in my faith and understanding of God. I was transformed by my experience and looked around at everyone as though I was somehow outside of the situation, removed, more alive, than everyone else. I was Jesus’ daughter now and no one got it but me.
