Forest Prayers

This week I took a big, bold step. I've been struggling for a very long time (and particularly recently) with anxiety and depression. The intrusive thoughts, bouts of sadness, and constant anxiety finally pushed me to ask for help. I've been seeing a counselor. Without overstating things, some of what I've learned already has been life changing.

I have to preface the story I'd really like to share by first saying that about two years ago, the kids and I had a terrifying experience in a store in which we were followed by two men. Obviously, we escaped the situation unharmed. But it has affected me deeply. It wasn't the first time I'd been followed or felt uncomfortable around men I didn't know, but it was the first time it had happened with my children present. I've struggled to work through the fear and anxiety it's produced for two years, and in two years I've only been to a store alone once. The fear has become so pervasive that I've been afraid to go much of anywhere alone.

I hadn't intended to bring up that particular experience in counseling, but, like a good counselor, mine found a way to hit on it and zeroed in on the issue immediately. She suggested maybe we make this a goal to tackle together, to help me work through the trauma of the experience and overcome my deep fear of going to the store. I agreed--as long as we didn't have to tackle it in that exact moment. Just discussing it made me unbelievably anxious!

So we moved on to a relaxation exercise. She had me close my eyes, and started by saying, "You're in a warm, safe place outdoors." I instantly panicked. There is no safe place outdoors. There is no safe place if I'm alone! My thoughts raced and I fought hard to focus on what she was saying. She went through the steps, coaching me through relaxing each part of my body. Then she described a forest. "You enter a deep, ancient forest. It's filled with tall pine and fir and balsam trees. It's peaceful and quiet, and you are all alone in its stillness." Again, I panicked. I don't go into forests alone! I don't hike alone! It's dangerous. Oh, God, why do I have to go in there alone? Couldn't I imagine Micah going in with me? 

I'm not someone who often "hears" from God. But in that moment of panic, of trying desperately to get my mind around what I was being asked to imagine, I felt like I heard him answer. You have to walk into the forest alone. Micah can't go with you this time. No one can go with you. Walk into the forest on your own. Trust me. 

Just trying to imagine it was terrifying, but I did. I pictured the tall dark trees soaring above the forest floor. I pictured a little clearing in the grove of trees, cool and dark. And I saw myself standing, alone, in the center of it. And as soon as I saw myself alone there, I was overwhelmed by a sense that I was not alone. I can't even describe the overwhelming feeling that God was there, had always been there. And in a moment that probably lasted a fraction of a second, I had a deep sense that no matter which forest I entered alone, he would be there.

The counseling session ended and I met my mom and sister for lunch. We had an errand to run as a family that evening that was across town from our house. But when I left my mom's workplace, I realized I was just moments from the store. I could wait until the evening, drag the whole family back across town, and run the errand together as we'd been doing for the past two years. Or I could swing by on my own, grab the one or two things we needed, and leave the evening free to relax. Again the feeling of panic threatened to shut me down. But I remembered the forest. I pictured myself hemmed in by the trees and the sense of God's presence. OK, God. Today the forest is the store. Please, Father, please walk into the forest with me, because I'm so afraid.

I pulled into the parking lot, parking as close to the store as I possibly could. Hyper-vigilant, I marched straight in and picked up the things I needed. I got in line to check out and a woman in front of me turned around. Noticing the few things I had in my hands, she offered to let me go ahead. I was flooded with gratitude. The less time I had to spend in the store, the better. My eyes darted to the front windows, watching my car and the parking lot as the cashier rang up my purchase. I took a deep breath, bracing myself for the walk out to the parking lot--another phobia. Just as I reached the door, an older woman in front of me turned around and smiled. "I see you bought that ice cream. My family loves it--have you tried it before?" We made small talk as we left the store and continued to talk all the way into the parking lot until just before I reached my car. I got into my car, closed the door, and sat in disbelief. I had walked into the forest. I had gone, alone, into a store for only the second time in two years. And as soon as I'd taken the step of faith, I'd discovered I wasn't alone. There had even been two women to walk, literally, with me.

Last night I introduced our kids to the relaxation exercises. We did a simple one, and then I told them I had one I especially wanted to share. Before I did, though, I wanted to tell them a story. In somewhat vague terms, I told them about how afraid I've felt sometimes to do certain things, like going to the store. I told them about the forest relaxation exercise and how I had walked away with a certainty that God was with me even when I was alone. Then I told them about the store. When I finished, Thomas said, "It's not fair, Mom. You and Dad often hear from God and have cool stories like that." I told him sometimes it takes time and experience to learn to recognize those things, but I reminded them that they've had their own forest prayers, too. 

Henry sat right up, "Yeah! Last week, when it was pouring rain at your football game, Thomas, I prayed that God would make it stop for a little while. And not two minutes later, the rain stopped. We were dry for the rest of the time, and it didn't rain again until we were on our way home. God heard my prayer, Thomas!" I smiled, and told him that had been a forest prayer, the kind of prayer and experience on which he could build his faith. Then I turned to Thomas.

"Thomas, in kindergarten your teacher had stomach cancer--do you remember? What Dad and I didn't tell you at the time is that stomach cancer can be really serious. Honestly, we weren't sure she would recover. But you were. You prayed every single day that God would heal her. And what happened?"

He smiled weakly and said, "She got better."

"That's a forest prayer. That's a prayer that builds your faith, that teaches you to hear God's voice and reminds you that he hears yours. Build your faith on that. Look back on it and remember, and be reassured that he continues to hear you in all of the forest prayers you'll pray in the future."

May we all have forest prayers. Moments when we know our words reached his ears, and his reached ours. May we have bedrock experiences we can fall back on as we face new challenges and fears. And may we find him faithful in each new forest.