I remember it like it was yesterday. The year was 2005, the country was Ghana, and the feeling I had deep within was a mixture of gratefulness and anticipation. I had longed to go to Africa as a little girl, and was most sure that my mother, brother and I would go as a family. Well, a year and a few months after my brother’s death I found myself getting off of a plane with my new "boyfriend", looking wide –eyed all around me, and thinking about how the people I would be with were not who I had planned to be with on such an adventure. Kim, my new friend and team leader, met us at the airport accompanied by a couple of West African PIONEER ministry leaders and got us started on our journey. We spent several days in Accra and then went south to Tema where we stayed with Enoch and Lydia, a doctor and a dentist who were native Ghanaians, before heading to the Elmina Slave Castle in Cape Coast towards the close of our trip. We were constantly on the go: preaching, leading devotionals, visiting people, having meetings, debriefing…etc, and mostly everything (but debriefing and sleeping) took place in different villages. There was a lot of movement.
However, there were a couple of days of fun lined up as well. One day in particular was when we journeyed to the rainforest. “Lovely”, I thought, “We are going to the rainforest”. I had no idea what was in store. Kakum National Park is one of the few patches of rainforest left in West Africa and built within—100 feet above the forest floor is the Canopy Walk. There was a twenty minute climb from the reception area on the trail, and along the way, our forest guide pointed out some of the trees and their medicinal properties. This gave us a chance to catch our breath from the climb. Once we reached the waiting area (a wooden platform which was really a tree house that served as a waiting station for the 1,000 foot-long Canopy Walk) there was a slight crowd, and I watched as people began to turn around and hike back down the trail. I must admit, I thought about turning back and so did the others, but before we knew it…we were up next. At least we had regulated our breathing at that point. So…I walked the plank.
The horseshoe-like pattern of bridges was made of steel cable, netting, and narrow wooden planks. After I accomplished walking the first two the swaying seemed to intensify. With each step I could hear my heart beat louder and louder, and in one breath I told my boyfriend that I was happy to have him there and a few minutes later when he called out to me I asked him not to speak to me until we were safe on the ground. My adrenaline raced, my heart pounded louder and louder, and eventually I begin to sing. I was determined to sing! The more the planks swayed the more focused I became on the songs I was singing. I would periodically look down and simply see the forest; I would look slightly above my head, and I would see clouds. There was no one directly with me to grab on to because all adults had to be a certain width apart as to not put too much weight on the planks, but occasionally we would meet at resting spaces—but only for a second before we had to move--separately. In the middle of a song I found myself heading off the last plank and a hand reached out to me to help me. I wanted to hug the person but did not. Once we all three reached “land” we smiled, became silent, and began the walk downward. Surely, we would speak on it as soon as we got to the resting area all the way at the bottom, and I could not wait.
When I think about the time I spent in Ghana and the courage it took to get across the Canopy Walk I realize that my life right now is much like the process of getting across the planks. Right now the planks are a recent job loss, financial storm, a series of random health scares (with insurance running out and the price of meds running up), and more transition and uncertainty then one could anticipate upon finishing seminary. The planks are no longer wooden and swaying back and forth they are now made of life challenges that have the potential to make me sway back and forth. Yet…I find that just like God gave me the song as I walked through the fear and instability in 2005, God has given me a song to navigate the current Canopy Walk of my life. More than likely people will not catch me singing this song at the top of my lungs as I am walking but it is always in my heart and on the tip of my tongue. I will continue to sing “I need You now” by Smokie Norful:
However, there were a couple of days of fun lined up as well. One day in particular was when we journeyed to the rainforest. “Lovely”, I thought, “We are going to the rainforest”. I had no idea what was in store. Kakum National Park is one of the few patches of rainforest left in West Africa and built within—100 feet above the forest floor is the Canopy Walk. There was a twenty minute climb from the reception area on the trail, and along the way, our forest guide pointed out some of the trees and their medicinal properties. This gave us a chance to catch our breath from the climb. Once we reached the waiting area (a wooden platform which was really a tree house that served as a waiting station for the 1,000 foot-long Canopy Walk) there was a slight crowd, and I watched as people began to turn around and hike back down the trail. I must admit, I thought about turning back and so did the others, but before we knew it…we were up next. At least we had regulated our breathing at that point. So…I walked the plank.
The horseshoe-like pattern of bridges was made of steel cable, netting, and narrow wooden planks. After I accomplished walking the first two the swaying seemed to intensify. With each step I could hear my heart beat louder and louder, and in one breath I told my boyfriend that I was happy to have him there and a few minutes later when he called out to me I asked him not to speak to me until we were safe on the ground. My adrenaline raced, my heart pounded louder and louder, and eventually I begin to sing. I was determined to sing! The more the planks swayed the more focused I became on the songs I was singing. I would periodically look down and simply see the forest; I would look slightly above my head, and I would see clouds. There was no one directly with me to grab on to because all adults had to be a certain width apart as to not put too much weight on the planks, but occasionally we would meet at resting spaces—but only for a second before we had to move--separately. In the middle of a song I found myself heading off the last plank and a hand reached out to me to help me. I wanted to hug the person but did not. Once we all three reached “land” we smiled, became silent, and began the walk downward. Surely, we would speak on it as soon as we got to the resting area all the way at the bottom, and I could not wait.
When I think about the time I spent in Ghana and the courage it took to get across the Canopy Walk I realize that my life right now is much like the process of getting across the planks. Right now the planks are a recent job loss, financial storm, a series of random health scares (with insurance running out and the price of meds running up), and more transition and uncertainty then one could anticipate upon finishing seminary. The planks are no longer wooden and swaying back and forth they are now made of life challenges that have the potential to make me sway back and forth. Yet…I find that just like God gave me the song as I walked through the fear and instability in 2005, God has given me a song to navigate the current Canopy Walk of my life. More than likely people will not catch me singing this song at the top of my lungs as I am walking but it is always in my heart and on the tip of my tongue. I will continue to sing “I need You now” by Smokie Norful:
Interesting analogy between the Canopy walk, and the trials and tribulations you are facing today. You are an amazing writer and the way you described your feelings as you navigated the Canopy walk are magnificent.
ReplyDeleteI hope to visit Mother Africa before my time on this earth expires. I just wonder will I be the man I am today full of vigor and fire, or will I be an older version of myself much wiser and continent with my lot in life? Either way I will return with a different view of the world and a decision to make on how I will share the journey I have just taken.
Beautiful reflections Erie... love that song too.
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