“An Altered Perspective”
Reflecting on my experience recently, I cannot figure out if the woman standing by the waterfalls appeared out of thin air or if I actually saw her walk up the forested path after we walked the path. Had she been an apparition? Had she been a serendipitous, divine prophetess that agreed to an appointed meeting? I did not see her arrival at the falls, and I did not witness her departure. In fact, as my husband Dave and I emerged from the winding, wooded pathway, I looked over my shoulder to see if she followed us. I scanned the parking lot to look for a vehicle that might belong to a woman in her eighties. But nonetheless, she had stood at the beautiful Munising Falls all alone, and she had spoken to me on that cloudless, fall day.
The past few months had been a blur in my life. When you have worked in the same place for nineteen years and enjoyed that work immensely, losing the job comes as a jolt—a death—a loss of a vision. Both my husband and I taught at a small, private college. Because of a series of very unwise decisions, the school very suddenly closed its doors as of May 2015, leaving us jobless. You think that you don’t find your identity wrapped up in a job, but to some degree or another, the job is a part of you—sometimes a big part—sometimes more of a part of who you are than you may have thought it was a part or want to admit it was a part. So the past months have passed rather oddly—trying to find work in a rural, country town—trying to figure out what I want to do next—trying to keep a brave face—and trying to identify the nagging sense of “what must I do to keep from slipping into a very real place of discouragement.” Even though I have so many reasons to be thankful in my life, my clouded perspective was not de-fogged so that I could completely agree with my new normal. This, I think was the real problem that I was facing—the new normal.
One gorgeous Sunday afternoon, Dave and I decided to take a long drive up to Munising, Michigan, from our home in northern Wisconsin. We grabbed a quick lunch after church, and then we hopped into the car with cell phones, sun glasses, and a purpose to take in the fall colors while exploring new territory. The idea of seeing some of the Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore excited both of us. We had heard of the national park for many years. And so the adventure began.
As we opened the car doors at our first stop in Munising, the fall breezes greeted us, and the sun lit up the oranges and reds on the trees of the forest. The Miners Castle Rock overlook stunned us as we walked up to the observation deck. The precipice at the edge of the deck took our breath away not only because of the massive distance from us to the shore below but also with the sight of the Miners Castle Rock—a natural castle, shaped from colorful sandstone. A peaceful view of Lake Superior edged by such splendor along the shore created a special treat for us to view.
The next stop included a must see—Munising Falls. We parked our car, and we followed the signs just outside the heavily wooded walkway. The national park sign indicated that the falls were approximately 900 feet into the forest. Immediately, the temperature dropped and the sounds of rushing water caught our attention as we strolled up the path. We noticed the fallen trees, the various rock formations, and the moss covering so much of the waterway.
Upon arrival at the Munising Falls themselves, a platform allowed for the visitors to take pictures from below the falls. A bench afforded me rest for a while, feeling the power of the water and watching the cascading several feet above the deck. From the peripheral vision on my left, I witnessed an elderly woman standing at the foot of the falls by the left side of the observation deck. My thoughts were these: How did she get all the way up here alone? Why is she here? Why is she simply staring at the water? What is she thinking? Did she come here often?
Something compelled me to walk up to her side. “Do you come here often?” I asked. I had startled her as she had been in deep thought. From that initial question on, she seemed delighted to have someone to talk to. She told me that she came to the waterfalls every single day. I probed further. “Does this place hold special meaning for you?” She then began to tell me her life’s story.
Back in 1955, as a very young bride, she became pregnant with their very first baby. She and the love of her life awaited the arrival of their firstborn. As the day approached that her little one would join their happy family, the house filled with carbon monoxide. The doctors were able to get her to the hospital. However, her beautiful, full-term, unborn baby girl died, and her husband died as well. As she related her story, these thoughts ran through my head: God, you have her here for me. You want me to change my perspective. You want me to be joy-filled in the richness that you have placed in my life—a happy marriage, children that love us, grandchildren to hug, and my God to enjoy each day.
I then asked her this question: “Did you ever remarry?” She told me that she never remarried. Her husband was the love of her life, and there would be no other. She smiled and related that she had had many offers of marriage, but she had turned them all down. She had moved to Munising after the death of her husband and baby girl. But the falls were a place of peace and comfort for her—60 years after the tragedy in her life. We both agreed that only Christ can satisfy in this life. She very unselfishly asked me several questions about my family. But I held back tears thinking of how self-focused I had been in the past few months.
Have you heard of divine appointments? That day at that moment was my divine appointment—there was a stranger who would change my life forever. I could not shake her story from my heart or from my mind. Dave and I turned to walk back to our car. Tears ran down my face immediately as I asked God both to forgive me for my self-pity and to use this stunning lesson to grip my heart. In the span of a twenty-minute conversation with an amazing woman at the foot of Munising Falls, my heavenly Father gently gave me an altered perspective on my new normal.