A Coincidence?

On Saturday July 22nd 2011 I drove to Escalante and then down the Hole In The Rock Rd that Mormons built to Settle the SE portion of  Utah in the 1860s. It is wash-boarded road with over 55 miles of sliprock and sand in the remote backcountry of Southern Utah. From the road the area does not appear to be that special, but once you get off on some of the Spur roads there are some very interesting places. It is said there are more Slot Canyons in this area than any where else in the world. Egypt road that goes off about ten miles to the East leads to at least 9 different slot canyons all of which are technically challenging, requiring rappelling and technical bouldering skills to get over, around and under chokestone obstacles. These slot canyons are more difficult than I feel comfortable to attempt, especially when traveling alone.

Becoming much more cautious in the last couple of years, I had  decided to go to some of the easier slot canyons  about 30 miles South of Escalante. At the trailhead I introduced myself to Fred and Gale from New Jersey and after hiking down into the canyon wash, asked them if I could tag along for safety sake—I have never done this before in my life! We explored Dry Canyon (Slot) a little and then made our way to the entrance to Peek-abo Slot Canyon. To get into the canyon there are two vertical sections that are 6 feet and 8 feet high that have footholds carved in the sandstone that must be used to reach a small overhang notch to pull yourself up and into the slot—essentially two parts of a steep waterfall into the wash below.  So many people have used these notches carved into the wall that it is rounded with no flat spot for purchase.  When I put my foot into the notch it just slipped out and I could not reach anything to grab onto to pull myself up. This was very disappointing. Fred has experience doing technical climbs and he tried to make it up, but had the same problem I did. Later  on we met some people who made it up. One of the guys in the group climbed up to the bottom of the first drop off, as Fred and I had done, then he did a vertical jump to grasp a ledge and did a one arm pull up to where he could grasp the lip of a rock at the top of this series of water falls and did a pull up to climb up and scramble over. Nope, I could not have done that even if I had thought of it. Then they used a rope to help the others in the group up.

We could not see anybody else around when we were at the entrance to Peek-abo, so we walked ¾ mile in the wash down to the entrance of Spooky Slot Canyon.  Guide books and the rangers recommend going up Peek-abo and then cross country and down Spooky and we did not know why, so we ventured into Spooky which was about 4 feet wide for the first 100 feet. After that if got down to about 14 to 18 inches wide with 40 foot high vertical walls. The light was great in the canyon and illuminated to sandstone red walls in a pinkish yellow glow.  This was fun! After going about 200 yards into the canyon the walls began to closed down to 10 to 12 inches. I had to spread my legs apart and slid down the canyon walls until my chest was in a spot where I could push sideways through the space. At first there were just a couple of these narrow spaces and then it would open up to 14 to 16 inches again. Then the narrow sections became more frequent and longer and now there were also obstacles that had to be overcome. I started thinking I hope we get out of this narrow stuff soon and it opens up again, but for the next ¼ mile it remained claustrophobically narrow. This was when my prayers for God to help me get out of there without getting stuck dramatically increased.

We had heard about a man who got stuck in Brimstone Slot Canyon a few months ago and was not found for a few days and then it took most of a day to even get him out of the canyon.   There were also dozens of 270 degree bends and it would take a couple of minutes to position your feet so your legs could get around the sharp turn and at the same time climb up and over some obstacle. Sometimes you were pushing against one wall with a leg and your back and the other leg was bent 270 degrees around a bend. It could take 2 to 3 minutes to negotiate some of these areas.  It was tiring trying to adjust my body to make these contorted movements and I found my self breathing heavier and hoping that we were just about done and ready to ascend out of the canyon. After another 15 minutes of the same stuff we arrived at a larger opening and there were 6 people in this area trying to figure out how to get up 9 feet and over a huge boulder blocking everything but about a 2 foot diameter opening to next section of the canyon. We finally lifted one of the young guys up to where he could grasp the top of the boulder, find purchase and struggle to lift himself over the top of the boulder. We then lifted people up and they were raised up by people who had already made it through the opening. That is how it worked until there were just two of us left. But Fred had brought a rope and a 4 foot rope ladder with him. So he unpacked them and we gave them to the people above to help us get out. The rope ladder was swinging under the boulder above, but it was all I needed to get high enough to reach the ledge and pull myself up high enough to get my knee into a position to leverage my body up and over the boulder and into the alcove leading upward to the next series of undulating canyon walls.  Without it, I would of have had to back track over ½ mile alone and I was not even wanting to considering doing that. What if I ran into other people: how would we get past each other? We thought we were at the end of the canyon and about to exit, but there was another ¼ mile of twists and turns with obstacles before we finally reached the head of Spooky Slot Canyon.  I was thanking God for helping me to get out of Spooky! And I also think God gave me the insightfulness to ask to tag along with Fred and Gale. And Fred was the only person who carried a rope and a rope ladder. A coincidence? I believe God was answering prayers and looking out for me before I even entered the canyon.

Well I was tired and had enough of slot canyons and told Fred and Gale. Fred told me,  “you made it through Spooky and it was the hard one, so Peek-abo is going to be a piece of cake in comparison.”  This sounded reasonable, so I hiked with them ¾ mile over deep sand going up a steep incline to the start of Peek-abo. It looked so easy compared to Spooky that I got excited and plowed on through the canyon.  About 100 yards up the canyon walls were so narrow a child could not make it through.  The walls were separated by less than 6 inches in many places So we climbed up out of the canyon walls and walled down 200 feet and got back into the canyon.  At first it was nice and then it got down to the narrow 12 inch stuff with undulating 270 turns combined with obstacles to get over and around. After going through a couple hundred yards of this narrow stuff we arrived at a 270 degree turn that required going down a spiral column and then having to bend and exit this section through a hole in a rock formation. It was very pretty in this area and that diminished my anxieties. A few hundred more yards and we could see a series of arches/bridge and though them the exit from the Canyon. There were still a couple of downhill spirals with pools of water until we arrived at the ledge above the entrance to Peek-abo. It looked kind of scary from above at the wash 20 feet below. The walls have been worn smooth from centuries of water flow and I was not that sure about how to descend. Fred got out the rope and I sat at the lip of the ledge and then gradually rotated my body 90 degrees and entered the almost vertical water shoot. I started to slide at first, but then with my hip in the rotated position and my back I was able to push back with foot so my hip and back rubbed against part of small overhang and that slowed me down enough so I could use my foot to stop me so I could rotate my body back to flush and then slide down to the first ledge we had previously stood on when attempting to ascend. From there it was an easy 6 foot drop to the wash below.  Again I was thanking God for helping to get out safely and that Fred and Gale had been there to help and encourage me.

The lighting was fanatic for photographing and I got more than 100 great photos inside these two canyons. The attached picture showing me struggling to move forward in Spooky was not posed. I felt like I was doing that King Tut dance that Steve Martin popularized. I needed to slide my body up and down to find a place where I could squeeze through. It was really awkward walking like that for long stretches.

These small coincidences in life always make me feel God's love for us

Rosanna Saw Jesus

As Chairmen of FOCAS (Fellowship of Christian Adult Singles) one of my responsibilities was to lead the spring retreat at Island Lake Retreat Center across Puget Sound from Seattle. During the retreat I was to lead a communion service after the Saturday night session. Just thinking about doing this was very overwhelming for me as I realized how unworthy I was to be leading this service.

All afternoon, as others were outside playing games on a sunny afternoon, I stayed inside for close to 4 hours reading the verses associated with communion, praying and asking God for help.  I kept thinking this is an important service that I am not worthy to lead and I am going to mess it up. Most of the time I was asking God for help because I knew I could not do it myself.

When the communion service began I asked everyone to stand up and gather around in a circle. We broke bread from a loaf and shared some grape juice together and then I led a very heart felt prayer. As the song ended a woman began to sing a praise song and we all joined in singing all the verses together. I do not know why, probably the LORD’s prompting, I  felt led to say a few words about communion being an opportunity for God to heal people and that we can healed by the blood of Jesus and asked people if there were any who wanted us to pray for them. One after another, several people came forward and sat as the rest of us gathered around and laid hands upon them. This went on for about an hour. Later on people testified to me of the healing that God had performed in their lives that they attributed to God working in them that night.

Right after the service was completed Rosanna came up to talk with me. She was on a COED softball team I coached. Rosanna told me that she was not that fond of me and almost left when she saw me leading the communion service. Then she said, “Terry that was not just you up there tonight. I saw Jesus standing behind you.” Praise God was all I could think of saying. My prayers had been answered. Jesus had been there to help me and God had used this service to minister to others for His glory.

Looking back now I realize that I was in the perfect place for God to use me at this communion service because I was totally dependent upon Him. Rosanna and probably others knew very well I was not the spiritual person who should be leading communion. To them and myself it was foolishness for me to be doing this. It was a life experience that made me realize what Paul meant when he wrote, “God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong.  God chose the lowly things of this world and the despised things—and the things that are not—to nullify the things that are, so that no one may boast before him.”

Saved by an Angel?

When I was attending the University of Washington I worked the evening shift building furniture at Magna Design in Lynnwood. I rode to work on a motorcycle. One Friday night we stayed late to finish a project and I was driving South on I-5 at 2 AM. A strange feeling came upon me and I felt like I really needed to pray for my safety—so I did continuously as I drove home.

After exiting at 85^th St and heading toward Puget Sound I approached an intersection with a main arterial going North and South (Aurora Ave) and the light was red so I coasted towards the intersection. When I was about 100 yards away from the light it changed to green so accelerated to about 40 mph. At that time it was illegal to turn left at this intersection and there were at least three signs notifying people they were not to turn. When I just arrived in the intersection a large Plymouth 4 door sedan turned left into the lane I was driving in and my motorcycle hit the center post between the front and rear door in a T-bone collision. When I saw the car turning in front of me I had a couple of milliseconds to hit the brakes and the bike may have slowed down to 35 mph when the collision happened. The Plymouth drove off without stopping.

The strange thing was that my body never left the motorcycle. Normally accidents like this even at slower speeds results in the rider flying off the bike and over the obstacle they have hit.  But, I was standing upright holding on to the handlebars after the collision. Even stranger, I was still standing upright as witnesses ran up to find out if I was okay. After a couple of minutes I started to step down and tried to back the motorcycle out of the intersection, but it would not move. I got off of the bike and saw that both front forks had been bent back about 145 degrees and wedged in between the two exhaust pipes forming a tripod that kept the motorcycle upright. People were amazed, as was I, that I was not hurt. They were also angry that it was a hit and run and nobody had gotten a license number.

I examined myself and did not have a scratch or bruise on my body. It took two people to help me drag the motorcycle out of the intersection and on to the sidewalk. I was probably in shock for a few minutes. The police came and left saying there was nothing for them to do. My friend  Richard drove up in his pickup and took the motorcycle to my uncles Honda dealership so it could be fixed. At the shop we noticed that both scrambler handlebars had been bent upwards. A scrambler handlebar has a cross member support to keep the bar from bending. The left portion of the handlebar had been bent upwards about 2 inches and the right one about 4 inches. Being an engineering student my curiosity was peaked and I latter calculated the force that had been on my body due to de-accelerating from 35 mph to 0.0 mph so quickly was on the order of  90,000 lbs.

I am firmly convinced that the need to pray I felt was a message provided by God. And I believe to this day that there was a divine intervention that resulted in nothing happening to my body. I did not have any sore muscles, no cuts or abrasions and not even a bruise. Not that I can prove it, but I firmly believe that angels protected me that night.

Grandma Knew Her Prayer was Answered

After living two years in Japan I came back to Seattle and visited my friend Richard who worked at my uncle’s Honda dealership in Burien. We decided to take a 400 mile roundtrip weekend motorcycle ride to Lake Chelan in Eastern Washington. Richard decided to go back to Seattle earlier than I wanted, so I rode back by myself the next afternoon. While driving up Stevens Pass the engine froze up and my instincts to pull in the clutch were the only thing that kept me from flying over the handlebars onto the highway.

I was half way up the pass, about a hundred miles from Seattle, wondering what to do when I
remembered a gas station about 5 miles down the mountain. I turned the bike around, put it in neutral and coasted back to the gas station. The engine would have to be rebuilt and so I had to get the bike back to my uncles shop to have it fixed. As I was trying to call my dad on the telephone the engine started on fire. It was parked close to a gas pump and the attendant came running over with  a bucket which we filled with water.  I ran over to the throw the bucket of water onto the fire but being anxious I threw it too hard and most of the water missed the fire.  We finally got the fire put out and I pushed the bike away from the gas pumps.

After sitting down and feeling depressed for a few minutes I tried to call my dad again and he was not at home. I called my grandmother and found out my dad was having Sunday dinner with her. He got on the phone and said, “I told you not to go over there and now you are
going to have to find your own way back and figure out a way to get the motorcycle back too.” There were two problems with this. First, there had been a story on all the TV stations that all the rental trucks and trailers had been rented and the closest ones available were in Idaho. This was just after Boeing had laid off thousands of people and being the primary source of employment around Seattle, people were abandoning their homes and moving out of state.  The second problem was I had reservation on Alaska Airline for Kodiak Alaska and I HAD TO BE THERE in 36 hours.

I tried to hitchhike and nobody stopped for me. When cars came in to get gas I would tell them of my predicament and ask for a ride, but nobody would help me, About an hour after I had talked to my dad two guys in a black Lincoln Continental stopped at the station. I told them what happened and they said, “Hop in and we will give you a ride.” As they drove off I continued to tell them that I had to be in Alaska, etc. and they told me their parents cabin was just a mile down the road and they had a truck with two motocross bikes that their
parents were going to drive back to Seattle later in the afternoon and it would not be a problem to get the truck and take my bike back. We went got the truck, put both motorcycles
in the back and then went back to the gas station and picked up my motorcycle.  When we were about 20 miles outside of Seattle they asked where I lived and then told me where they lived—less than 2 miles apart from each other.

They dropped me off at my dad’s complex and being a nice day I went down to the pool swam a couple laps and fell asleep on a lounging chair. Sometime later I felt somebody taping on my shoulder. It was my dad, who had just gotten home from Sunday dinner. It had been less than two hours since we had talked on the telephone. He was flabbergasted as I told him all the details. When I had finished telling him what happened he told me that when
grandma heard about my situation she had gone into her bedroom for a few minutes and then come back and told my dad that everything would work out fine for me and I would be ok.

I had accepted Christ when I was eight, but at this time was in a rebellious phase. Even then I thought this had been an answer to her prayer. I do not know the odds of the people picking me up who lived so close to where I had to go and that they had another vehicle, a truck a mile down the road with motorcycles that had to be brought back to Seattle—when they were origianlly planning to return home in the Lincoln until I told them my story. I might have even gotten a ride back with somebody else and totally missed this connection, but nobody would give me a ride.  Coincidences?  I don’t think so! When I talked to my grandmother about this later she told me after she had prayed she knew in her spirit that God was answering her prayers. It was answers to prayers like this that were a reminder that I needed to stop my rebellious stage and get right with God again and that God answers prayers. I was blessed to have my grandmother who was such a model of a life of faith for me.

Was my Dream from God?

Rock art and ruins intrigue me as they do thousands of others who visit the Southwest. I have visited over a hundred rock art sites in Arizona, Utah, New Mexico and Nevada. For several years I have wanted to visit Horseshoe Canyon, West of Goblin State Park in Utah, to see the pictograph panels. The rock art in Horseshoe Canyon is of the Barrier Canyon style and the main gallery there is called by many the “Louvre of the Southwest.” 

While spending a week in Brian Head Utah a few years ago I decided to across the state to try and see both Horseshoe canyon and Little Wild Horse Canyon--one of the best Slot Canyons in the US. I got my things ready the night before and went to bed about 9 PM excited about seeing two places I had wanted to experience for years. I woke up at 2:30 AM after having a strange dream. In this dream I heard a loud noise and put my hands over my ears and then there was a stinging sensation on my face which caused me to put my hands over my face to protect me

from whatever was causing the pain. After a short time the noise disappeared and whatever was stinging my face stopped and the word “peaceful” came into my mind and everything was ok. I have had some dreams before in which I thought God was speaking to me and I felt like this was another one of those times. When I awoke I asked God for discernment to understand if the dream was a message from Him and if so, what the dream meant. The only thing I felt was the excitement associated with going out on a new adventure.

After driving about 250 miles I arrived at the empty  trail-head parking lot about 10 AM.  Then I  descended approximately 800’ in elevation down into the Canyon in about ¾ of a mile and walked in a stream bed to the pictograph sites. Most of the hike was like walking in a sand volleyball court for three miles. There are four pictograph and petroglyph sites on the way to the “Grand Gallery” and I spent time examining and photographing each of them. Finally I arrived at  the" Grand Gallery."  There are a couple of dozen figures in this panel, many of which are life size or larger. The entire mural is 210’ long and from 6’ to 9’ tall. Scientists do not know how
the red colored paint that the ancients used to create these pictographs was made, but suspect that mixtures of ground red orchre or roots of mountain mahogany, combined with bone marrow, animal fats, plant oils, blood, urine were among the primary ingredients used. 

                                             The Grand Gallery (Click to enlarge)

After spending about 45 minutes viewing the painting i was beginning to really feel the heat in the canyon and decided I better start heading back. It had been 105 degrees in Hanksville, the nearest town, the day before and expected to be the same that day. The rocks in the canyon contain a lot of iron and retain and radiate a lot of heat so it could have been 15 to 20
degrees warmer in the canyon than in Hanksville. It was getting hot and I knew I need to hustle  out of the canyon.

 It was about 1 PM in the afternoon and probably 110 to 115 degrees in the canyon when I started hiking up the 800’ out of the canyon. The area has no trees and is almost entirely exposed to the sun. The heat  taxed my energy and I found a ledge that offered a small amount of shade, rested for a while as I drank a liter of an electrolyte beverage. Feeling rejuvenated

I walked the rest of the way out of the canyon and made it back to my car. It is the same parking lot where Aron Ralston left his truck. 

After having some lunch and resting for about 30 minutes I began to feel much better. Then thoughts of hiking in Little Wild Horse slot canyon began to percolate in my mind. This may be the only time I ever have a chance to see this canyon was the predominant thought. I really like slot canyons. There are places in Little Wild Horse Canyon that are so narrow at the bottom that your foot can not fit flatly at the base.  While thinking about going into this canyon I looked to

the West and could see dark gray clouds forming. I prayed that the wind would blow them away or that it would not rain. Flash floods can happen quickly even if the occur miles away from a wash or canyon. About ten years before a group of 12 people had died because of flash flooding in Buckskin Gulch (another slot Canyon), East of Page Arizona near the Utah border.As I drove I kept praying for God to keep the weather at bay, allow me to see the canyon and then let it rain after I was safe if it was going to rain that day.

When I got to the parking lot for the trail head into Little Wild Horse Canyon it was breezy, but there was no rain.  I thought I would at least go down to the opening in the canyon where the narrows started and then decide what to do. As I got to the entrance to the Canyon I was awed by the beauty of the rock formations and canyon walls. I was both excited and anxious at the same time since there were dark gray clouds overhead. My thought were: Will I be safe trying to see some of this slot canyon or stupid by exposing myself to a potentially dangerous situation? I was anxious and kept praying that God would protect me, but also excited enough to be tempted into walking into some of the Canyon narrows, while being ready to get out as quickly as possible.  As I walked along this trail the winds got stronger and when I arrived at the confluence of Bell Canyon and Little Wild Horse Canyon there was a noisy gust of wind that was so loud I put my hands over my ears to block out the noise. Then I felt blowing sand sting my face and moved my hands in front of my face to block the sand. This lasted for a couple of minutes and then the wind died down and the sand quit blowing and it became quieter. It was

at this time I remembered the dream. The wind died down until the air became still. No wind noise. No blowing sand. I just felt surrounded by a calm and peaceful ambiance. It became one of those aha moments in life. God had not needed to give me an interpretation to the dream as the meaning was understood as soon as this happened.

      During my 2nd trip into Little Wild Horse Canyon  (Click to enlarge)

I thanked God realizing that He had provided me with this dream to reassure me that I would be safe while exploring part of His creation.  Hiking in the canyon was a peaceful experience and I spent a couple of hours exploring and taking pictures before heading back to Brian Head. After

driving about 20 miles it started to gently rain and a few minutes later it became a downpour obliterating much of the view out the front window. As I drove I thought about the 14 miles I had just hiked and how well God well knows us and understands our weaknesses while providing

for us according to our needs. It made me realize how among all the big things that God has going on in this world, He still has time to help me to do something for my own enjoyment. God is good!

God knows my Grand Mother!

           My father’s mother was born in Denmark. Her family lived on a farm in Jutland and they really were dirt poor. There were 13 children born to my Great-Grand parents and after a certain age they all worked the fields. My Grandmother, Marie, was taken out of school after the fourth grade and became a laborer on a nearby farm working in fields where potatoes and other crops were grown. Marie had two brothers who were both seamen who travelled around the world as merchant marines. Their tales of live in America inspired my Grandmother to save up money to go to the United States. She was just 16 years old when she left Denmark, did not know any English and only knew of some cousins who lived near Boston in Waltham.

           When she arrived in Waltham a family hired her to be a servant and she gradually learned English. What she heard about California inspired her to move to San Diego where she met a Catholic man who took her to a revival. Marie had never had any religious training and the whole church scene was new and interested her. At the revival she accepted Christ as her Savior, stopped dating the Catholic man and regularly attended a church and revival meetings. At one of the revival meeting she heard a young Swedish Pastor named Samuel speaking and felt God telling her that this man would be her husband. After the meeting was over, Marie went up to talk to the Swedish man since their native languages were so similar. They began to date and only later did Samuel tell her at the meeting where they first met God had told him that this woman was to be his wife.  Samuel was a very focused man of God who spent a lot of time in prayer. He was what people of the time called “Prayed up.”

          They were married and initially pastured a church in Turlock California where they had two daughters, before moving to San Diego where my father was born. After 15 years of marriage my Grand Father died of heart attack leaving my dad who was 12 years old at the time to be the man of the house who could only attend school four hours a day and then had to go and work to provide money for the family to live.

         My Grandmother was not educated, but was a scholar via experience when it came to wisdom about walking with God. She was very independent and strong willed, but a helpful prayer warrior. Waking up about 4 AM every morning Marie would start the day off by praying for everything that God brought to her mind. She worked as a waitress in downtown Seattle at Frederick and Nelsons until she was 60 years old. When she retired they gave her a retirement of $1 per month for each year she had worked there.

                           Dad and his mom when she was 86

         Often she spent her days after retirement riding on buses in Seattle and witnessing to those she came in contact with. One day a drunk man got on the bus and sat across from her. The bus stopped to pick up a woman who held two large bags of groceries in her arms. As the woman bent to take coins from her purse a bunch of oranges rolled to the floor. Bending over to pick up the oranges the woman loudly expelled a burst of gas, and the drunk laughing stated in slow slurred voice that every person on the bus could hear,

                                                 “That’s it lady……..

                                            If you can’t pick’em up…..

                                                    shoot em!”

Everybody on the bus laughed. This was one of many stories my grandmother would tell and she would laugh so hard her eyes would tear up. Her humor balanced out a warm,  loving and firm side that was concerned for the salvation of others.

         When my grandmother died there were dozens of people who shared stories with me about how she had helped somebody, led them to the LORD or prayed healing prayers for them. There are a lot of stories I know about my grandmother, but my favorite is about a time she was visiting the sick in a downtown Seattle hospital.  

         Marie was going from room to room and praying for the people. She was a spirit filled woman and would pray in the spirit for each of them. Her prayer life was so active that she would know when she had gotten God’s attention (what they used to call “Prayed Through”) and then she would move on to the next patient. Going into a different room she saw a woman alone lying on a bed who did not speak English, so my grandmother began to pray for the woman in the Spirit until she felt like she had prayed through. When she was praying and when she was done the woman spoke to her in a language she did not know or understand. Getting up, my grandmother saw that a man and woman had entered the room and were standing waiting for her to finish communicating with the woman. The man started talking to my grandmother and she told him I do not understand your language but can speak English. The man looked her in shock and told her in English that she had been speaking to his mother in her native language. He proceeded to tell her that she had been telling his mother about Christ and his mother accepted Him as her Savior during this conversation. I get goose-bumps and misty eyed every time I think about this.

       That was my grandmother. A woman educated to just the fourth grade in schools and with the most spiritual knowledge and discernment of anyone I have ever known. It always make me think of Paul writing that “God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong. God chose the lowly things of this world and the despised things—and the things that are not—to nullify the things that are, so that no one may boast before him" (1 Cor 27-29). When my grandmother would hear of a need she would always pray for the need to be satisfied. Usually she went off by herself to seek God’s face and her prayers were simple used a lot of Scriptures and were powerful. She is the best example of a woman of faith that I have ever known.