Getting Guidance

Friday, Aug. 12, 2016

Studying theology is another way to pray, esoteric Scripture facts are useful for contemplative prayer, and although I’m never going to be a theologian or Biblical scholar, it’s useful – not to mention enjoyable – to be conversant in those fields.

Such was the wisdom imparted by friends over the past few weeks as I sought their opinion of whether it’s worth the time, money and effort to continue my efforts toward a master’s degree, because so far nothing I’m learning seems applicable to my faith life.

The advice from my friends, however, is encouraging me to stay with the program. 

I also got an answer when I did what I should have done in the first place, and took my problem to God. 

Following Jesus’ example, I went up on the mountain to pray. It was a beautiful Saturday morning and the wildflowers were in full bloom, so I hiked to Red Pine Lake. My backpack contained water, lunch and that week’s lecture notes. On the way a covey of grouse crossed my path. Not too far from the lake, a yellow-bellied marmot basked in the sun.

I found a place off the trail where I could mimic the marmot. Waves lapped the lakeshore, a cooling breeze stirred the pines, and I was far enough from the path that no one disturbed me. I ate my lunch, did the assigned reading, packed everything away, and prepared myself for a one-on-one with God.

“Look,” I told him. “I’m spending all my free time doing coursework, and what I want to know is whether it’s worth it. Could you maybe give me some guidance here?”

I sat in the sun with my eyes closed, listening to the waves and the rustling leaves, and all of a sudden I felt something light come to rest on my knee. I looked, and there perched a chipmunk, no more concerned than if it sat on a rock. 

Not daring to try for my camera, which was on the ground next to me, I studied the little guy, because I wanted to be able to look up his kind when I got home. (There are several striped rodent species in the Wasatch area. After comparing my memory to online photos, I’m fairly confident that the one on my knee was a Least chipmunk. But I digress.) 

The critter graced me with his company for a good five minutes. He didn’t look for food, just squatted for a while, sniffed once at my wrist, returned to his sitting-on-haunches pose, and eventually scampered off.

When I related this story to a priest, he gently asked, half-teasing, whether I thought the Holy Spirit had prompted the chipmunk to visit me.

Well, no, I sheepishly admitted, seeing as how he put it that way, I didn’t really think so.

On the other hand, I’ve never had a chipmunk sit on my knee before. Not ever. The only time they come close is when food is available, and I’d eaten all mine and stowed the wrappings before he showed up. If he was hungry, he’d have gone to the backpack, not my knee.

Still, although it was a beautiful creature, with cinnamon-colored sides, stripes of black and white, and dainty paws, who wants to consider a flea-ridden rodent a sign from God?

So, no. I don’t think the Holy Spirit sent the chipmunk. However, I can and do credit God with the lovely day, my presence there by the lake at that precise moment, and the grace to appreciate the experience. All of which, I think, was the answer to my prayer.