It was my only day off that week, and it had been filled with too many errands and not enough fun. With almost no humidity, rare for Virginia in the summertime, the weather was perfect for a hike. It was getting late in the day, and I was feeling a little disappointed that I had missed a good hiking day. I’m not sure whose idea it was to take a night hike. Although hesitant, I agreed to go. My guess is the last time I’d been on a hike in the pitch dark was when I was a kid at summer camp. I figured, why not?
We grabbed bug spray and a couple of headlamps and headed for the trailhead. It was a state park, so I was sure parking wouldn’t be a problem. However, I hadn’t anticipated ours would be the ONLY car in the lot. That’s when I started to wonder if it was safe to be on the trail after sunset. What if we got lost? We could be wandering around for hours before daylight. I mentioned my concerns while trying to play down my anxiety, but I was assured this path was well-traveled and well-marked. It was too dark for me to read the placard, but apparently it was an easy three-mile hike. I had to take my friend’s word for it.
After a couple of lessons on how to use the headlamp, off we went. By the way, until then I thought headlamps were kind of silly. They seemed to me that they were more inspector gadget kind of toys than something practical. You know, the sort of thing you purchase for a friend that has everything, or maybe something the nerdy kid at camp has tucked away in her sleeping bag so she can read her bug book after it’s time for lights out. But having my hands flashlight free while walking in the pitch dark was pretty fun. I quickly changed my opinion.
I was nervous, apprehensive, and a little scared. But I was also invigorated and felt more tuned in to my surroundings and to the experience than I thought was possible. There was zero moonlight, and the cloud cover blocked any starlight. It was pitch black. I had only one beam of light to follow, which shone on the path about two steps ahead of me. I had no peripheral sight or hindsight. I also found my senses were super heightened. It was like I had bionic hearing. I swear I could hear a single leaf drop.
About halfway through the hike, we heard a noise off to our left. We froze in our tracks, not saying a word. The rustling was close and getting closer. I’m not embarrassed to admit I was terrified. We slowly turned our heads towards the sound. As our lights moved from the trail in front of us to the woods on our left, there stood the most beautiful, full-grown, deer. She was right next to us, and she seemed huge. Had I reached out my left arm, I could have touched her. For a moment, time stood still as she looked at us and we looked at her. She then slowly crossed the path in front of us and disappeared into the woods off to our right.
What if the same thing had happened on a beautiful morning hike? There would have been the same rustling, and the same deer. We would have frozen in our tracks, and she would have walked right in front of us. But the experience would not have been as spectacular as what we experienced. We were dependent on our headlights to see what was going on. However, in the light of the day, we would not have been dependent at all.
Maybe that’s the lesson here. God is always teaching us things in ways we do not expect. He is the master of presentation.
Fear is a funny thing. We fear what we do not see. Many of us fear our paths ahead because we cannot see them. But God is our headlamp. We should be dependent on him to shed light on whatever it is we need to see.
Wishing you joy and peace,
Lorrie
Your word is a lamp for my feet, a light on my path. – Psalm 119:105