It was a glorious day for hiking in the mountains of Montana. The river, running and tripping over ancient stone formations, accompanied us and gave us rhythm. Some of us, like me, still in college and not yet 20, others on leave from their vocations, all longing to listen and learn the wilderness, we had banded together to spend four months walking the wild places in the western United States. We were young and strong, having carefully trained for the discipline of walking miles each day with our possessions on our backs. On this particular day, after a morning of walking, we removed our carefully packed gear and nestled on the warm stones near the rambling river. A woman came by, paused to greet us and decided to join us. She seemed old as the hills.
She was on an annual pilgrimage, a yearly celebration and commemoration of freedom. As a young woman she had walked to freedom in post- WWII Europe, leaving behind a life of hardship and persecution, bondage and violence. She walked alone over mountains dark and treacherous with nothing but the shirt on her back. Everyone she knew, everyone she loved was gone. There was no reason to hope, no sense that she could find the path of freedom. Yet even after 25-plus years had passed, she still shone with gratitude, humility and wonder.
In this land she had found safety and sanctuary, forged a new life, poured herself into a vocation that made a particular difference in the world and the lives she touched. Each year she stopped and turned again to walk across mountains and say thank you, to the earth, to the Holy One, to all who offered kindness along the way.
In a world gone wild with fear and violence, a world that did not welcome or cherish her, a world that threatened to devour her, she turned away, somehow managed against all odds to flee to the hills and mountains. The wild places gave her refuge, grew her strength, and shared her hope, allowing her to choose the path of hope and freedom, compassion and kindness. Her story can’t be found in history books or etched on any statue, she never wore a uniform or served in any official capacity, but her quiet, humble service inspired and shaped me more than I knew in that brief interlude along the river.
A lifetime later, her story stays with me, her compassion and strength still teach me: Walk the earth in gratitude, refuse violence, choose kindness, learn freedom, share the path with others, compare stories, remember and honor the breath that gives us all life. Wherever we go, wherever we wander, God is with us, loving us, leading us with cords of human kindness, according to the prophet, Hosea. Somewhere I have a bumper sticker that reads, “There is no wisdom deeper than kindness.” It has never made it to my car, but like the old woman’s story it is written on my heart and I carry it with me as I walk in this world.
Each month a member of the Cook County Ministerium will offer Spiritual Reflections. This week our contributor is Reverend Beth Benson of the First Congregational Church – UCC in Grand Marais.
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