“Jesus loves me this I know, for the Inch Worm told me so”

Shooting stars, Whippoorwills and green inch worms; these are three things Jesus continually uses in my life to remind me that he is near and that he loves me. There are multiple stories and histories behind each one but for time and attentions sake, right now I am just going to talk about green inch worms, which is probably the most intriguing on the list.

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So let me take you back to about four years ago and paint a picture. I am in the breathtaking foothills of Appalachian Georgia standing on a footbridge overlooking a peaceful stream. The water is bubbling over the rocks and the sunlight is breaking through the foliage above, creating bright speckled pockets over the water like sunken pieces of gold. All is peaceful and serene. Except for one thing; me. Why is that you ask? Well, because I am shaking my fists at the heavens threatening God to an all-out brawl. I am stomping and saying not so lady-like words. I am calling him names and pointing big angry fingers. But in the end, when all the water in my pot has evaporated and the steam dissipates, I am left with the loud silence of a stream, crickets and wind through trees. And now that the hulk has changed back into a normal hurt teenage girl I tell God, “Look, you don’t have to show up in a white robe with your beard and walk across this water. But just give me something to work with. Some sign that you are here. That you are even real.” (I literally spoke this out loud). My eyes are scanning the heavens; my ears are alert waiting for a booming voice, “Hark! Tiny annoying child, thou art clay. Therefore, obey!” But nothing.  I hang my head in resignation as a voice in my head says, “See, I told you so.” I sigh in defeat and to nonverbally say screw this and prepare to trek back to civilization when I feel a tickle on my hand. I turn and look down and perched on my pinky is the tiniest green inch worm. I am caught off guard.

Now, God knows that I have never done drugs in my life so don’t make the connection of the bong smoking caterpillar from Alice in Wonderland when I tell you what happened next… that tiny green inch worm spoke to me. And not like “hello, my name is Herman. Let’s be best friends and I’ll live in your pocket!” Like I said, no hallucinogenic drugs were involved in this encounter! But in that moment, God communicated with me through one of His tiniest and easily overlooked inches of creation. And if the exchange were to be summed up I think it would go something like this:

“Oh hey…  hi. I have been here a long time, waiting for you to notice me. What was all that yelling about? I just hung on tight and waited for you to stop flailing your arms so that I could tell you something. You ready to hear it? Good. I. LOVE. YOU. I’ll say it again, I love you. I am always with you. I know that things have been really hard and that you have felt alone and unloved and that you don’t like what you see in yourself. But you need to know that I will never leave you. And inch by inch, we will get there. Together. Just reach out and hold my hand, because whether you feel me or not, I am here holding yours.”

Wisest. Inchworm. EVER! It was one of the sweetest moments of my life. I was a raging storm, but God calmed the tempest and whispered. And that whisper changed my life forever.

So now we will fast forward, past a few more reminders from inchworms, to a recent encounter.  It was my first Friday morning off in a long time and I had four hours to fill and I cleared my schedule because I had a hot date. “But I thought you weren’t supposed to be dating anyone before you went on The World Race?” you may be asking and you would be correct. But I think this time they would make an exception. This date would just be the trail, me and my man JC! That’s Jesus if you didn’t catch on.
So I set off and it was a glorious morning. I was feeling strong and confident. Look at me, out in the woods, taking on the world. One mile, two mile, three…. Bring it on. If I run out of food, my daddy taught me all about these woods and I could find some good grub (shout out to awesome legacies of Eagle Scouts and fathers that love nature!).

I made it to the top of a bluff and am loving the view when I come upon an old grave yard (actually belonging to the family of Robert E. Lee). I read the stories on every stone and each talk about rough times on the trail. Accident while on the trail… disease while on the trail…. Labor while on the trail… Tragedy on the trail! I suddenly am feeling less strong and confident and a wee bit alone and vulnerable.  That is when I see him. He is one small inch, green and perched in my shoulder. “Oh, hello my inchworm friend.  You just enjoying the view or does God want to tell me something?” If you were an English major or literary dork like me, the term used here would be foreshadowing.
 
What transpired over the next hour could be comparable to katness’ time in the area of “The Hunger Games”, but only if your imagination tends to over exaggerate like mine. My well tread trail lead me to about a hundred degree drop where I had to hold any bit of brush that was poking out of the mountain face and angle my feet horizontally and bend my knees so low that my butt almost hit my heels. But, with jelly legs I made it to the bottom, and followed the trail that passed through fields of wildflowers and shaded resting spots. And I thought “Wow, this is great. What a trail blazer I am. This is so peaceful I could make a bed of wildflowers and pick out animal shapes in the clouds.” That dream bubble exploded as a white sign got closer and closer in my field of view until I could make out the writing.

“Private Property. You are under video and areal surveillance. Beware of dogs, traps, armed guards and toxic weaponry. Under no circumstances should anyone cross property lines. Believe it!”

No kidding, that is what it said. So I did an about face rather quickly and watched my heels to see if I had set off any alarms and was being pursued, and a bit later was staring up at that flippaty flappin mountain again. I tried the other direction but that lead to a true cliff face overlooking the wide open river. So it was either climb back up that mountain and huff it up to that graveyard again, or start building a tree house and live out the rest of my days Swiss Family Robinson style with berries for dinner and long leg hair to keep me warm on cold nights.

Only one choice, “you don’t have to move that mountain, Just help me Lord to climb it..” Lyrics from one of my favorite Nickel Creek songs played through my head as I huffed and puffed and scared away small woodland creatures with my grizzly bear labor sounds. But after creating a small series of rock slides and uprooting innocent trees that found themselves in the misfortune of being within my reach, I reached the top panting. But I was not alone in my victory. My little green friend was still perched atop my shoulder. “Way to go fatty, took you long enough,” he said. So I gave him a high powered flick and he smashed against a giant oak at full velocity. Just kidding. That never happened. Haha. No, he stuck by my side and rooted me on through all my trails, providing silent strength.