Three weeks before Krista, Tommy and I left Alaska in January of 1986, I went on a weekend retreat to a beautiful lodge in the Chugach Mountains near Anchorage with a group of women from Elmendorf Air Force Base's Protestant Women of the Chapel. I was full of insecurity and worries since that weekend was also five weeks before I went off active duty in the Air Force, and three months of uncertainty before I was able to start working at Kennedy Space Center after the tragedy of the Challenger accident.
The theme of the retreat was "Be Still and Know that I am God." One of the Protestant Air Force chaplains who happened to have fled Cuba with his family while he was in his teens led the retreat.
The first day of the retreat I took a walk in the darkness of that January winter night on the mountain top. The city lights of Anchorage were not visible since we were on the far side of the mountain. And only a few very scattered houses showed any signs of civilization beyond the retreat center.
The stars of the Big Dipper seemed close enough to touch and the sky really was the luxuriant deep blue of the Alaskan state flag. The air was very cold and very fresh. The moon was full, shining brightly on the expanse of snow and ice below us and off into the distance as far as Mt Susitna. Our view encompassed the beginning of the Knik Arm of the Cook Inlet.
The contrast between outlines of tundra forests outlined against the carpet of muted shimmering moonlight was lovely to behold.
Oh, what a night!
Earlier in the week a friend had told me to look up Psalm 46 and at the time I neither knew the theme of the retreat, nor did I have a my recollection of ever having read the psalm. So I was touched by the "coincidence" that the same phrase that had stood out when I read the psalm was being used on the retreat as well.
Looking at coincidences as "God-incidences" for the first time came several years later.
The Lord blessed me with peace through the fellowship, teaching and worship of the whole weekend, but my memories of one part of our time together have been especially clear over the years. That was a time of prayer during the first evening we were at the lodge on the mountain top.
Even though I grew up in a faith-filled family, at the time I mostly thought of God as remotely beneficent. Except for a few crises and when I was pregnant with each of my kids through the times of their births and the early years of their childhood, my relationship with God was not very intimate. And I certainly never really "let go and let God" unless circumstances were way beyond my control.
During that first night's prayer time, we all sat on chairs in a circle that included a podium and a table set up as an altar. On either side of a Cross were two lit candles, the elements to celebrate Holy Communion and a Bible.
During the Communion service the chaplain gave each of us a chance to lift up prayer requests. He reminded us that by the power of the Holy Spirit, Jesus was present with us because of His promise that when two or more gathered together in His Name, He would be with them.
We were then asked to imagine that Jesus was standing in the middle of our circle. and that we were able to focus on Him as we prayed for one another, one at a time.
The theme of the retreat was "Be Still and Know that I am God." One of the Protestant Air Force chaplains who happened to have fled Cuba with his family while he was in his teens led the retreat.
The first day of the retreat I took a walk in the darkness of that January winter night on the mountain top. The city lights of Anchorage were not visible since we were on the far side of the mountain. And only a few very scattered houses showed any signs of civilization beyond the retreat center.
The stars of the Big Dipper seemed close enough to touch and the sky really was the luxuriant deep blue of the Alaskan state flag. The air was very cold and very fresh. The moon was full, shining brightly on the expanse of snow and ice below us and off into the distance as far as Mt Susitna. Our view encompassed the beginning of the Knik Arm of the Cook Inlet.
The contrast between outlines of tundra forests outlined against the carpet of muted shimmering moonlight was lovely to behold.
Oh, what a night!
Earlier in the week a friend had told me to look up Psalm 46 and at the time I neither knew the theme of the retreat, nor did I have a my recollection of ever having read the psalm. So I was touched by the "coincidence" that the same phrase that had stood out when I read the psalm was being used on the retreat as well.
Looking at coincidences as "God-incidences" for the first time came several years later.
The Lord blessed me with peace through the fellowship, teaching and worship of the whole weekend, but my memories of one part of our time together have been especially clear over the years. That was a time of prayer during the first evening we were at the lodge on the mountain top.
Even though I grew up in a faith-filled family, at the time I mostly thought of God as remotely beneficent. Except for a few crises and when I was pregnant with each of my kids through the times of their births and the early years of their childhood, my relationship with God was not very intimate. And I certainly never really "let go and let God" unless circumstances were way beyond my control.
During that first night's prayer time, we all sat on chairs in a circle that included a podium and a table set up as an altar. On either side of a Cross were two lit candles, the elements to celebrate Holy Communion and a Bible.
During the Communion service the chaplain gave each of us a chance to lift up prayer requests. He reminded us that by the power of the Holy Spirit, Jesus was present with us because of His promise that when two or more gathered together in His Name, He would be with them.
We were then asked to imagine that Jesus was standing in the middle of our circle. and that we were able to focus on Him as we prayed for one another, one at a time.
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