Nature's Paintbrush--Color Where I Find It

This past Friday afternoon I took a walk into a place that sustained and nourished me during a winter when I was writing and crying and crying and writing, when I had photos of my Tennessee friends and family scotch-taped next to my computer to keep me from feeling too alone in my winter rental in Estes Park. I didn't know anyone and hadn't yet connected with the wonderful centering prayer group there.

After hours of writing, I drove to the then Lumpy Ridge Trailhead on McGregor Ranch and walked, took stairs toward climbing walls and sat, and hiked part-way up the Gem Lake Trail. (At that point, I was afraid to go all the way alone!) I found "my pink rock" soon. I painted, drew, and photographed it in various lights, always looking for the time of day that the pink or coral was prominent. It represented survival--survival that produced beauty and strength. I needed its strength in those days! I could get closer to it than I was last Friday, sit on the climbing stairs nearest its base as if by being there, some of its strength would leak into me.

When I walked I looked for the colored lichen on the rocks, a habit from childhood when I sat on limestone rocks at Dad's farm (lots of rocks there) and tried to pry off lichen without tearing them up. On hikes with my first hiking companion in Estes Park, I marveled at huge boulders and their bright colors. When she seemed less enthusiastic than I was, I finally realized that she had wonderful boulders all around her home! I continued to find the colors and make watercolor sketches of them. And when the snow fell, those colors shined even brighter, cheering me when I felt as if nothing could. The winds blew and pushed me back, but I walked those paths anyway. And when I tired of walking, I found shelter behind one of the boulders and hung out with "my pink rock."

On Friday I didn't feel alone, and I wasn't sad, but it was good to be back, eat my lunch sitting on one of the boulders in the sun, and enjoy the changing colors of the tall "pink rock" as the afternoon sun moved toward the mountains. The trailhead has been moved and renamed, and the old trailhead is no longer on the way to Gem Lake. It was too late in the day for climbers so I was alone hanging out and was again cheered by the beauty of the rocks!

It occurred to me that the huge Boulder with streaks of coral or pink had been a way to connect to God's power and strength. I wouldn't have described it that way in 1999, but it seems obvious now. I had found solace and strength in huge boulders, cliffs and streams beginning during my college summers spent working in Yellowstone National Park. Tennessee's rocks, cliffs, and streams had been where I connected with the Divine. God had spoken to me through that pink rock in a way that I could feel. Praise be for the glories of the earth's creation!