On September 27, 2021, I was out on one of my normal, local workout hikes and I noticed some sticks on the ground that seemed to be in the perfect shape of a cross. I took a picture of the cross and smiled. It seemed a sweet little reminder that I never truly hike alone: that Jesus always goes with me. As I walked on, I realized I hadn’t run across any feathers for quite some time; for me, feathers had often seemed to “mysteriously” pop up when I was talking to God on a trail, feeling the need for His protection or peace over some matter. But why had they stopped showing up? Had I stepped away from that need? Had I become too confident in my own strength and abilities? Had the feathers really just been a coincidence rather than what my friend Barbara calls a “God-incidence”? Had those little divine messages in the physical realm been worn out? I didn’t have the answer to that, but there was a little cross on the trail behind me that had jumped out as though it had been wanting to be seen, just as those feathers had. And since that day, the crosses have shown up on trails all over.
After a couple months of having these “religious twigs” showing up pretty regularly, I sent one of the photos from a November hike up Bedford Peak to my mom. She texted back that it was “a little love letter from Jesus”. And I keep sharing these crosses with my mom as I come across them. I haven’t lived the craziest life a daughter could by any means, but I have certainly done some things that have caused my mom some concern for my safety over the years. I used to go off on my own on trails when I was younger and never even bothered to let anyone know where I was going. I was that person that, despite repeated warnings, hiked the Grand Canyon somewhat unprepared in 117 degree weather in July. And then there’s living in Afghanistan for years during what is now known to have been the deadliest years for Americans. But I was never worried back then, never considered that I wouldn’t make it back, even if there were legitimate concerns. In fact, it wasn’t until around 2019 that I even truly understood the fears that my family lived with while I was overseas, that they wondered everyday if they would get a call reporting that I was kidnapped or killed. All that is probably worthy of it’s own post, however, I’ll just say that it hurts to know that I contributed to that anxiety for my mom and family. So, although I have something in me that wants to feel the freedom of just taking off and leaving all the safety precautions behind, I don’t. I text. I send gps & maps. I carry an InReach & pepper spray. All the (literal) whistles and bells. And I send pictures. So now my mom gets pictures of trail crosses, so she knows God goes with me. Well, I suppose she’s always known God goes with me – He never leaves us. But maybe she feels better knowing that I take Him with me, seeking to know Him better.
And I do seek God on the trails. Whether I’m alone or in a group, have asked out loud or in my heart, I’ve asked God to go with, protect and guide. I still can’t say for sure if these crosses are actual “God-incidences” or not, but they do often show up when needed. As I’ve struggled with pain and dizziness this year, once again wondering if I can make it even a mile … God was there, his mark on the trail. When I’ve asked God how and when I will overcome this chronic physical situation … he put the sign of resurrection right at my feet. When I feel the sense to scan more specifically for a rattlesnake … twig cross on the trail. Recently, I was at Gilman Peak praying protection over some people who have developed some questionable forays into the occult … instantly a cross was there, followed by over 10 more. A couple days later, as soon as I brought this same subject up with a friend … yup, a cross! And it seems to keep happening this way. I have well over 100 photos now and have walked, smiling, past countless more. I don’t always stop to take these photos. In fact, I rarely stop when with other people. But there’s a comfort for me, feeling like there’s a physical sign in this world that the Lord is reminding me of Himself in some of the places I love most. As my mom said, “little love letters from Jesus”. Perhaps I’m reading more into these broken sticks and weeds than I should. But I see these crosses as God taking what is broken and dead, laying in the dirt and turning it into the symbol of new life, of that resurrection power that lives in us as believers. He stops me in my path to acknowledge Him and gives me the strength and spirit to carry on. And I’ll take that over coincidence any day!
