My Hiding Place

“May the Lord lead you into a greater understanding of God’s Love.”

2 Thessalonians 3:5

During my freshman year of college, I was outside all of the time. This makes sense since the college I picked to attend was a decision based on my excitement of being outside on the campus itself, and I was awestruck by the simple beauty of this perfect little dome in the middle of Pensacola. I applied and was accepted immediately, and I couldn’t be more excited.

If you knew me during my freshman year, you knew I loved being outdoors. From the moment the sun was up until it traded places with the moon at night, I was constantly looking for adventures around campus to enjoy. One of these simple beauties was a field in the middle of the campus. On one end of the field was a garden, and at the other, a giant magnolia tree. Pine trees scattered the rest of the field, and the other occupants of the field were the numerous butterflies enjoying their days fluttering around. I created a safe place for myself in this field. It was where I sat down to write, to listen to music, to simply exist. I would lay in the grass or sit on the bench or climb the tree to see it all from above, and I was completely and utterly in love.

My friends and I would enjoy the days spent out there. We filled the space with laughter and talks of the endless tomorrows we would endure. Many of my favorite memories from college occurred in that field, and then one day I found another spot.

On the west side of campus, there is a system of trails. It begins as a boardwalk, and along the way, there are openings to the dirt trail that spreads over a few miles behind the campus. My daily walks consisted of doing the boardwalk loop, and I loved it. I would put in my headphones and listen to something calming or inspirational, anything to feel like the world around me was paused so I could enjoy what was in front of me. My curiosity overcame me one day and I decided to climb over the rail of the boardwalk and walk somewhere I hadn’t been before.

There was a makeshift trail on the other side of the boardwalk, something that wasn’t intended to be made but was created nonetheless. I wandered and explored until I turned a bend and came upon a creek and a tiny gorge. A huge fallen tree had created a bridge between the two sides, and I could feel the excitement within me begin to surge. The space felt magical, and it felt safe.

For days on end, I would walk this trail and make my way to the fallen tree. I would climb upon the fallen trunk and balance my way to the middle where I would sit down and breathe. It was serene. Skies were blue and on the calm days, when the creek was perfectly still, I could look down and see my reflection staring back at me from an alternate world. This little place, this corner of the universe, it was mine to enjoy and love every second of.

My love of nature stems from my love for God. He has created a world where oceans rage and creeks lay perfectly still; a world where trees grow into mighty oaks and fall over to create bridges for man; a world where fields are lined with dancing butterflies and everything stops. If a world so beautiful like this one was created for us, how could we not enjoy it? I have spent many hours of my life reflecting over this as I walked around my college campus in the sunlight (and the rainy days). So many things in life come and pass, yet nature is always there for us to enjoy.

Today, three years after I fell in love with my college campus, that field is gone. Part of it has been ripped up to accommodate a new science building. A ribbon was placed around the magnolia tree to be saved and I watched for days as the grass was torn up to get the trucks and supplies through. I was grateful that the tree would be saved, but one day when I came out of class, the tree was taken down and a different colored ribbon was on it. At first, I felt hurt. Someplace so simple that I trusted to remain intact was being torn apart. I felt as though a safe place was being ripped away from me, but I watched the growth happen.

As I sat in the garden on one end of the field, watching the trucks move around each other and dig into the earth, I tried to appreciate the growth. Movement was made and a new building was built, and it was beautiful in its own way. I took comfort in the fact that even though this tree was gone, my quiet place on the trails would always be there. That, I discovered, was also wrong.

I returned to my fallen tree in the woods one day to gather my messy thoughts and when I got there, my heart fell. The tree was rotted through to its core, something I hadn’t noticed before. I took a step, felt the softness of the log beneath my feet, and stepped back. That part of my life was also over. Sadness threatened my heart for a moment, but I didn’t let it stay. Dropping my bag on the ground, I decided to sit in the dirt and watch the water softly move beneath this log that I had spent three years enjoying.

With the field and the log by the creek gone, I almost felt abandoned. Almost. I asked God why both of these safe spaces be taken from me at the same time, but I only felt comfort in return. It felt like a nudge, like a hand forward. I had other things in my life that needed my attention and my time, and I couldn’t hide out anymore. It was time to move forward.

This life is messy, that’s no secret, but a life that is messy is one worth living. I met the love of my life in college, and one of our first dates was on that fallen tree in the woods. We sat and enjoyed life in silence and in small talk. It was shortly after I met him that the tree began to rot away, but I didn’t see it as a bad sign. It was a nudge.

It was as if God was saying, “Go. I’ve enjoyed our time here, but it’s time to move forward to someplace new.”

And I did.