Vision on Apache Peak

Rising from the middle of the suburbs in our town is a wild and lonely hill called Apache Peak. Strangely out of place among the tract homes and schools, it has gone undeveloped and is still covered with Live Oak, Ashe Juniper, Huisache, and other South Texas plants. My favorite is the enticing Agarita, a wild holly bush with yellow berries that make a wonderful jelly.

The Apache people once used this hill for its stunning and strategic view of an ancient trail that lies at its base. That trail is currently a paved thoroughfare, but was once a Spanish "highway", and before that was a major trail for Native American tribes moving across the land we now call Texas.

The Apaches considered this hill to be a sacred place of vision and visions.  Its vantage point allowed them to spot their enemies while they were yet far away. From this hill they saw their future and changed the present to prepare for what was to come.

Apparently Apache Peak still has some of that old magic because I had a powerful and life changing vision there while hiking with two of my daughters.

Hiking is a big deal in our family. I’ve outfitted the three sisters with backpacks and the kind of adventure kits you can assemble for about five bucks at a discount store.

·          A small hammer.

·          A screwdriver to be used as a chisel.

·          A paintbrush for delicate “archaeology” work.

·          Band-Aids.

·          Tweezers.

·          Little plastic bottles for storing specimens.

·          Candy.

The day I received my vision we parked on a suburban street before ascending Apache Peak. The contrast was disorienting. Every step up felt like a step back in time. If the change of scenery was my peyote, the girl’s chatter was my mantra.

"Dad, what are these flowers called?"

“Flowers don’t really have names. What do YOU want to call them?”

“Can I call them “Little Purple Sweet Tarts”?

"Daddy, see this rock? I found it. Only when I found it, it was under another rock so I had to dig them both out of the ground."

Both girls are keen on digging for fossils and arrowheads. The middle one is careful, brushing away dirt from the rocks she hopes are fossils but never are. The youngest one is more into speed digging. She chisels away at the ground with her hammer and screwdriver.

“Hey, I think I found an arrowhead”, she said, lifting a flattish river rock from the ground.

We were making our way to the top of the hill when it happened. I was walking behind them on the trail when the vision came.

There is a beautiful time in the life of a little girl when her bottom is so tiny you can’t believe it. She gallops around on coltish legs and slightly oversized feet. It’s an age of dirty shoes and skinned knees. She’s awkward, but her hands are growing delicate and nimble. She dots her i’s with hearts and loves purple ink. She won’t wash her hair, but she begins to linger at the closet, wondering what to wear.

She wants womanly things, but doesn’t know what to do with them. She covets makeup, but can’t apply it. She begs for a diary then fills it with pictures of horses and rainbows. She is betwixt and between. She is neither here nor there.

And she wants to be with her dad more than anything in the whole wide world.

Be still my heart.

It’s a delicate stage and fleeting. You can miss it in the blink of an eye. This I know from experience. My oldest daughter is 14 and wasn’t with us on this day. She had other things to do. Her hiking days aren’t over, but she doesn’t bring her backpack anymore. Her interests are beginning to turn.

My vision was a simple one. In a flash I knew what was walking right in front of me. We all think we know what we want. We definitely know what we’ve had and lost. To know what you have is the rare gift.

It’s not foresight or hindsight we need. We need sight, plain and simple. We need to see what is right in front of us.

There is only a narrow slice of my life where I get to do this. There is only a small window of time for pink backpacks, “Little Purple Sweet Tarts”, and pretend arrowheads.

And even now I hear the distant voice of the auctioneer, shouting, “Going, going, GONE!”

I am the enemy. Sometimes I don't know what I have until it becomes what I had. 

The vision came in an instant, as visions do. I had a digital camera, so I snapped a quick picture of them walking ahead of me on the trail. I stopped to stare at the image, and when I looked up they were already far in front of me, moving up and away.

I had to run to catch them. I was trying to look at the incredible picture on the camera screen while stumbling over rocks. All of a sudden I was the awkward one, bumping along while shoving things back into my backpack. I shouted up the trail.

I wanted them to slow down and wait for me.

2 of 3 sisters - 4-12-03

The Preacher

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