A Salal worker extended an open invitation for a potluck at her house. Jerry jumped at the opportunity. He wanted to get in with this crowd. Far from the Princeton type, these were alternative life-stylers, with names like Sunshine, Dakota and Winston, outfitted in Goodwill clothes, bodies pierced and tattooed, with long hair both men and women, and, to a person, eyes clear and welcoming.
When Jerry arrived, the party buzz spilled out through the open front door. He placed his Martinelli’s Sparkling Cider offering on the kitchen counter, turned around and there was April in an earth tone smock. She threw out her arms and Jerry readied himself for a tribal custom of Port Townsend: the extended body hug.
His eyes connected with hers. They moved toward each other with arms outstretched. He lowered his torso, aligning his heart to hers. They wrapped their arms around each other and oozed in. Breathing synchronized; bodies melded. After a full minute, they released and returned to a warm eye embrace.
“Let’s get you on that piano. Come on!” April said. She pulled him into the living room where, already in progress, people jammed on guitars, bongos, tambourines and maracas. Jerry slid onto the piano bench and dove in. The energy sparked. A one-four-five chord progression went round and round, up and down, one two three jump, one two three jump. People danced with abandon.
When they stopped, everyone gaped at each other, eyes wide, then a collective whoop sailed skyward.
The group gravitated into the backyard where the potluck offerings awaited. Symphonies of organic greens brimmed over their wooden bowls. Casseroles rich with nuts, rice and tofu lined up next. Finally, there was carrot cake moist as loam slathered with cream cheese icing and drooling chocolate chip cookies. Hibiscus iced tea washed it all down.
In a short time only crumbs remained.
“So, really, what are you doing here?” asked April.
“Zihuatanejo. Heaven on earth. You gave me the idea. I’m on a hunt, a God hunt. And I figured this might be the place. I mean, if you can’t find God in heaven, where can you?”
“God hunt? That’s so male. You don’t hunt God; you commune with God. You don’t worship God; She’s right by your side; She’s everywhere 24/7.”
“Well, that’s not exactly how they described it back in seminary.”
“Brother, you are not in Kansas anymore,” she said with a wink.
When the sun slipped away, the sweat ensued. A canvas teepee about 15 feet in diameter held red hot rocks in its center. Under the cover of darkness, everyone casually disrobed. Wow. If Bryce could see him now. What Garden of Eden had he entered? Furtively, Jerry followed suit.
Into the teepee crawled naked men and women. They sat around the stones in a circle. Jerry positioned himself next to the exit. He pushed his fingers under the edge of the teepee for a scrap of cool air, ready to bolt.
April sprinkled sage infused water onto the stones. They crackled like wet logs in a fire. The steam scalded Jerry’s lungs.
She beat her drum with a steady beat and sang:
The earth is our mother
We must take care of her
The earth is our mother
We must take care of her.
Everyone joined in. Jerry loosened up and sang along. He felt safe in this canvas womb. There was no need to compete, no ladder to climb, no height from which to fall.
Unite my people
Be as one, Be as one
Unite my people
Be as one, be as one.
The singing grew strong. Harmonies intertwined.
It’s sacred ground we walk upon
With every step we take
Her sacred ground we walk upon
With every step we take
Unite my people
Be as one, Be as one
Unite my people
Be as one.
The group continued to sing the song over and over till at last it faded then stopped. Sweat poured and consciousness faded.
Then they sang:
Amazing grace, how sweet the sound,
That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost but now am found,
Was blind but now I see.
Twas grace that taught
My heart to fear
And grace my fears relieved
How precious did that grace appear
The hour I first believed.
In the darkness of that teepee, soaked in sweat and harmony, simple lyrics heard a hundred times before pierced Jerry’s heart. A sweet agony consumed him. Tears rolled down his face. He attempted to understand what moved him so deeply.
“Amazing grace how sweet the sound,” — God is not a judge. He is not a father up in the clouds who I never please. That’s not God; never has been.
“That saved a wretch like me.” — I am selfish. I am self absorbed. I make plenty of mistakes and will continue to do so.
April is right. God is all around, always visible. God is within me; I am soaked in God.
“I once was lost but now am found,” — I am the lost sheep now found. As much as I’ve been looking for God, God has been looking for me.
So instead of feeling like I’ve got to find God, all I need do is allow God to enter, allow an intimacy unlike anything I’ve ever known. Instead of fighting Him off, surrender and let Her in.
“I once was lost” — It’s one thing to be lost; it’s another thing to realize I’m lost. I was looking for the wrong God and in the wrong way. God is not hunted. This is a different God altogether. This is not someone I have to walk on eggshells to make sure I don’t upset. This God unconditionally loves me. — “but now am found.”
They stumbled back out into the crisp night, gulping cold air into their parched lungs. Jerry rolled onto the cool grass like he was on fire. With eyes wide open — “Was blind but now I see.” — he gazed as if for the first time at the ocean of stars above, savored the cool breeze on his scalding flesh, and tasted the salt of his sweat and tears.
Could he be anymore alive?
O God, O God, with every beat of my heart.