You brought me out into an open place; you rescued me because you delighted in me.
Whenever people asked about our summer plans this year, I would tell them, somewhat nervously, that we were going backpacking.
Backpacking is something we’ve enjoyed as a family for years. But as our children have grown stronger and more capable, I’ve found myself struggling with joint pain and ankle injuries that have sometimes prevented me from hiking at all. So I was nervous about this summer’s adventure: a five-day, 30-mile trek through the John Muir and Ansel Adams Wilderness.
I’m pleased to report that I returned injury-free and completed the loop with minimal pain, with only a couple assists from Lucas carrying my pack up a steep pass!
It was incredible, as it always is, to be in the backcountry—in places you cannot reach except by walking, miles away from cars, roads, buildings, electricity, and internet. But there was something especially magical about this year’s trip. We crossed two passes at nearly 11,000 feet, hiked through spectacular wildflowers, weathered a few thunderstorms and hailstorms, and walked through landscapes so incandescent they hardly seemed real.
On the third day, after climbing out of a steep river valley, we entered Silver Pass Lake Basin. I found myself walking alone along a footpath through an absolute carpet of Indian paintbrush, glowing in shades of magenta and orange. The sun played hide-and-seek with the clouds, setting off the granite peaks and silver waters. After lunch, I went down to the stream to collect more water. Then I lay down on the mossy bank and fell asleep for a few minutes, the sun warming my head and the peaceful trickle of the water my lullabye.
It was absolutely idyllic.
An open place. A place of refreshment.
Those words, which carry echoes of the psalms for me, feel very descriptive in this season of my life.
The psalmist writes, “You brought me out into an open place; you rescued me because you delighted in me.” (Ps 18:19)
And Psalm 66:12 says, “We went through fire and flood, but you brought us out into a place of refreshment.”
This summer marks ten years since my family moved to St. Helena. We arrived on August 1, 2016, and I began my ministry at Grace a few weeks later. In the past ten years we have been through fire and flood together—and quite a bit more.
For me personally, this month also marks one year since I returned to full-time work after the long disability leave that followed my accident in 2023. I am profoundly grateful for the restoration and healing I have received. I do not take for granted the gift of being able to walk a five-day, 30-mile loop with my family, nor the capacity to joyfully engage in full time ministry.
And so I find myself looking at this tenth year not simply as an anniversary, but as a threshold. We have come through a lot. And now, by God’s grace, we find ourselves in an open place.
An open place is not an empty place. It is a place of possibility: room to breathe, to rest, to notice what is around us, and to see what God might be doing next. It is also a place of refreshment, where we can quench the longing of our souls.
After serving as our “bridge” across the season of my disability leave, I know it was a delight for Bishop Alan to come among us for six weeks this summer with something closer to the “sabbath” rhythm that summer invites. He spoke about something very similar to this “open place” this past Sunday; his last with us for a while. Reflecting on Jesus’ return to Galilee, he described it as Jesus’ “happy place”: the place where he found rest and renewal, where he met his disciples again after the resurrection. Drawing on Ronald Rolheiser, Bishop Alan described Galilee as the place in the heart where we return to our “original hope and our first love.”
I love that image for us at Grace.
Bishop Alan invited us to see ourselves as a “Galilee:” a place where people can come home to hope, encounter love, rest, and be renewed. A place where the cracks and difficulties of life don’t have to be hidden, because, as he reminded us, “it’s through the cracks that grace and love and the Holy Spirit can pour.”
And then he gave us a challenge: “How do we consciously embrace the Galilees of our life? How do we consciously offer ourselves as a Galilee for other lives?”
I think that is part of our invitation for this next season at Grace.
We have been brought through fire and flood. We have been brought into an open place. And from this place of refreshment, we are being invited to become a place of refreshment for others—a place where people can encounter the love of God, discover hope, find community, and be sent back into the world renewed.
As we begin our tenth year together, that feels like a good place to stand.
And a good place from which to begin again.
In Christ’s deep peace, and in love and gratitude,
Amy+
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