After thirty minutes of meandering through the forest, we passed a manmade dirt cow tank, an earthen basin created for watering cattle. In moderate weather, cattle need 7-12 gallons of water a day, per head. In hot temperatures, the water needs double. The dirt cow tanks are located all along the trail with warnings on the AZT website to not drink untreated water.

Eventually we came to a meadow filled with common mullein. The tall, yellow-flowering plants grew in all directions as far as our eyes could see. In folk history the leaves were known as “cowboy toilet paper” or “flannel leaf.” Pioneers supposedly used the large soft leaves to line shoes for additional warmth.

“Can we stop for a photo?” I asked, having never seen so many mullein plants before.

“Certainly, mullein-dy,” my pun-loving husband replied.

Unfortunately, the abundant mullein caused us to miss a critical turn on the trail. After about twenty minutes of no AZT signage, we turned around, retracing our steps through the tall flowering plants.

Once back on the trail, my phone pinged with a prayer request for a friend in the hospital. For the past three weeks, our friend has struggled with one medical emergency after another. Broken hip. Unknown bleeding. Blood clots. Pneumonia.

For forty years, our lives have inter-mingled with multiple generations of her family, through laughter and difficulties. More than a decade earlier, we sat at the hospital where her oldest son was on life support. He had been in our youth group when Kevin and I served in that capacity at the church. As I stroked his hand, all covered in wires and tubes, I did not see a grown man who had lived a hard life, rather, I remembered a boy at summer camp, laughing and playing with his friends.

When his mom stepped out for a break, I was overwhelmed by the beeping monitors doing the work of supporting a life. “Can you imagine if it were one of our kids lying there?” I asked my husband.

“It is one of our kids lying there,” Kevin replied as he bowed his head.

And now we keep vigil with our friend. Like her son, she is one of our own lying in that hospital. We speak her name before the throne of grace. We hold space for her as we walk on pine-needled paths.

Our voices join the dæg-wōma, as light breaks forth out of darkness.

You are here.

A helpful sign on the Arizona Trail. At shopping malls. At amusement parks. It’s nice to know where you stand compared to the bigger picture.

(And for all those following our journey: no, we are not halfway done with the 800-mile trail. We started in the middle! We’ve done a bit more than 50 miles.)

So, please remember, no matter where you find yourself today—on a trail, in a hospital, or sitting at the kitchen table—you are loved. You have a place of belonging. God sees exactly where you are. You are not alone.

You are here! And so is God.

A verse for your soul’s backpack:

“Am I a God who is near,” declares the Lord,

“And not a God far off?

“Can a man hide himself in hiding places

So I do not see him?” declares the Lord.

“Do I not fill the heavens and the earth?” declares the Lord.

Jeremiah 23:23