This whole week my stomach has been upset, every morning I have awaken to the sensation of some sort of burning oil trying to escape my stomach through my throat. I have been fighting myself, attempting to keep my mind occupied, attempting to give my self amnesia, unsuccessfully attempting to not see the signs on the road that have said, “Engagement Ahead”. But, it was so difficult to ignore suspicious boyfriend who closed e-mails quickly and went on “mysterious” errands. Still I have to give him props for successfully laying doubt upon my firm feelings by placing little traps on twitter etc. This same week I started hyperventilating emotionally about our future financial situation. It all felt so unknown and frightening as I felt a growing fear of deficit grow in my mind. As I assessed my situation I realized more and more how little I felt I had to offer. So I'd ping pong between speculations about engagement and fears about life in general. So, when my sister, Christine, and friend Joanna, hopped into the car on our way to Multnomah Falls I tried to squelch all expectations of any sort down with all that stomach acid.
The road was windy and long because I had the smart idea of taking the scenic route, which only added to the nausea. Joanna asked me if I was OK in the back, but I knew her driving was not the cause of my stomach pain at this point, so I said I was, “Fine.” Christine, Joanna and I took pictures with the droves of people at the falls, endured the scenery for about ten minutes when Joanna suggested that we find a more secluded location because, “it was too crowded.”
We quickly drove to a little trail called Angel's Rest, near Bridal Veil Falls, and like good Asians we took lots of goofy pictures along the way. It was a strange experience to ascend to the unknown, knowning that something monumental could be just around the corner. First, every person that passed us on the way was eyed very suspiciously, but then dismissed quickly as I tried to apprehend just what the surprise ahead would be. I guess that is the trick with surprises, even if you know one is coming, you still don't really know how it will be packaged. My impatience gave in about ten minutes up when I started to begrudge Hans for making me walk so far, and at such a steep angle, to reach whatever he had planned. But about five minutes and two water breaks later (I am apparently out of shape) we reached a little tree that had a sign, unmistakably in Hans writing, “Please Don't Touch”. Then ahead was some red string that ran away through the bushes hugging the right side of the trail. It was there Christine and Joanna told me this is where they were leaving me, that I should simply follow the red string and I'd be fine. As I hugged them goodbye and thanked them for getting me this far I was almost embarrassed within myself that I had no idea really how to proceed from here. I think I even glanced back at them as I rounded the bend up and away from them on the path, searching for some answer in their comforting presence. But then it was simply me, the red yarn, and the way it looked against the vibrant green foliage next to the rocky path ahead. A hiker passed me by and I tried not to look like I was following a red string through the woods.
Finally the string crossed the path ahead and I half expected Hans to jump out from a tree at that point. But thankfully he didn't, the red string just lead into another thicker path. It was then, in the still forest, I realized my heart was pounding, and I had been almost running the entire way. So I took a breath and looked ahead at the string in the wood, I felt sort of frantic and I realized that all my guessing was giving me heartburn instead of the joy I wanted to skip down this little path with. I felt a tug on my heart and a whisper that said, “You can trust where he's taking you.” I thought about how afraid I was and how worried I'd been about our lives and I knew that God was using this path and this little string to show me how I'll be blessed if I trust him. So I relaxed and believed, and I walked ahead some more, pushing little branches out of my way. I finally saw Hans and his bright colored vest just through the bushes. He smiled and said, “Hi,” or something like that. He also helped me climb down some rocks, holding my hand so I wouldn't slip.
We arrived at the destination, a waterfall you can walk right up to that had step-like rocks jetting out of it and some funky moss that looked like big red hairs. Hans then ruffled in his pockets for a white piece of paper and unfolded it saying, “I”m going to read you a poem I've written you.” So he read it, and some parts I was a little distracted by the waterfall, but I got most of it enough to know get that at the end he was asking me to be is wife. That part he repeated and pulled out a small wooded box, which he opened to reveal a picture of a white flower he'd cut to reveal my mom's old ring renewed, shined up and changed color. I said, “Yes” with a big hug, that puffed out air from his poofy vest, and a couple of kisses. We enjoyed the next couple moments in relative silence sitting by the fall looking out into the forest, eating cheese and crackers, sipping some wine and discussing little things that weren't that important, but interesting to us at the time. How much I'd guessed, how long he'd waited for me, what we'd both been nervous about. I thought about how I was going to call him “fiance,” from now on, but that still hasn't sunk in yet.
Since that Saturday, I've been thinking about that red string, been thinking about it leading me down the path and how strange it felt to simply trust the placer of the string to lead me. It was strange how hard it was for me to just enjoy. Also, I think about Rahab who trusted the spies to honor their word by putting a red string out her window and was rewarded with, not only a new life, but a God who loved and care for her all her days. When remember the red yarn in the forest I remember the story of Jesus in the wedding at Cana, the story that Christine read me the day before the engagement. Here I was so afraid of some sort of lingering deficit, of a scarcity that hadn't even happened yet, and here was a story about running out of wine at a wedding. When there is a deficit what do we do? When there is a minus there is a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, a weight around your neck that tells you you are doomed, hopeless, this is a cancer that will grow within you and never leave, there is a finality in this deficit that appears like death. And when you are a real adult, the first response is usually to ignore this sinking feeling, but after a while it grows and grows until it looms like the shadow of a UFO hovering above you, stalking your steps. Until finally the real adult can do nothing but cry the tears they have been saving up, and ask the question they've needed to ask all along which is, Dad, why did you let this happen? I say Dad and I mean Daddy in heaven. To which I have no confirmation on what he reply might be, but would venture a guess that what ever it is we need to hear it. Perhaps he'll say, "this does not concern me, it is not time yet." But, perhaps in the background of our lives, before we even know we are about to run dry, God is sending someone to fill up stone jars of water and turning that water into wine.
