It’s 11:00 a.m. on Saturday, February 4, 2017—Super Bowl eve—better known to me as my “Alive Day.” Ten years have passed since my life was nearly ended in a Fort Worth parking garage, and I decided to commemorate the anniversary with a 10-mile run to start my day. I rarely think about the details of that night because doing so has a way of bringing back raw emotions that I prefer to leave in the past. Instead, for the last decade, I have chosen to look forward by celebrating this day, thankful that God has blessed me with a new lease on life.
My journey from then to now has been far different than what I had envisioned. Sometimes I think life would be easier to navigate if it came with a map, but I have also learned that God often waits for me to take the first step of faith before He reveals where it is I’m going. It reminds me of a scripture from Proverbs 16:9 that says, “The heart of man plans his way, but the Lord establishes his steps.”
Without a physical map, I have relied on spiritual signs to direct my path. Imagine playing a video game for example and stumbling upon a key that unlocks a secret door, allowing you to continue on your way. Similarly, as a writer, I’m always searching for spiritual keys that will unlock the door to my imagination and help me understand which direction the story should move.
I had no idea how my book would end when I started writing it years ago. I remember early on in the process when I was working on a chapter called “Star Light, Star Bright.” I have always been fascinated with the stars, and I was surprised to learn that 9 of the named constellations are inspired by birds—10 if you include Lyra, which was formerly a vulture.
Lyra, the vulture, and two other bird constellations—Aquila the eagle and Cygnus the swan—make up the points of the Summer Triangle. I refer to the Summer Triangle as the Summer Birds in my book because, as the seasons change, these three birds migrate around the northern sky.
Two of the Summer Birds were already characters in my book at the time, but I had never considered using a swan as a character. That all changed when I realized that the brightest stars of constellation Cygnus—the swan—also formed the unmistakable shape of a cross, better known to stargazers as the Northern Cross.
Yup. Smack dab in the middle of the Milky Way sits a brightly lit cross illuminated against the night’s black canopy. Seeing the cross, I knew I had to incorporate a swan character into the book. In the meantime, however, I continued studying constellation maps and their changing positions until I spotted a cluster of stars in the southern sky named Corvus.
Corvus is the genus name for raven, and it just so happens that constellation Corvus sneaks into the northern sky once a year at the exact time when the Summer Birds are furthest away in their migration. The discovery provided the perfect analogy for the chapter I was writing, and it revealed the next turn in the unforgettable story taking shape inside of my mind.
As for the swan character I mentioned, I decided to name her Grace because seeing her helped to shape my belief that there is no such thing as coincidence. To me, she was another spiritual sign mapping the way toward a deeper understanding of a story that I believe was written long before I ever thought of it. All I had to do was take the leap of faith and wait patiently for the stars to align.
While visiting Belize last summer, I started sketching a map of the various settings described in the book. The eagles rule the mountains, while the forests are home to the ravens and owls. A canyon, waterfall and delta add to the diverse landscape, and a turtle-shaped island floats just off the coast. My initial sketch has since evolved into a world all its own, but the image is just one small section of an even larger map still waiting to be explored—a map that continues to reveal itself each time a new discovery or inexplicable event occurs in my life that helps me see the bigger picture.
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Postcards to Samuel
It's 8:00 p.m. on Wednesday, July 31, 2024, and I'm trying something a little different with this post. Instead of my usual blog format, I compiled a series of postcards that I wrote to my 10-month-old son, Samuel, during a two-week road trip I recently took to the Great Lakes. I plan to give him these postcards, along with others from future trips, when he's older in hopes that they will inspire him to chase his own dreams, whatever those might be.
False Summit
It’s 12:00 p.m. on Sunday, July 30, 2023, and I’m lounging at the beach enjoying the white sands and green waters of Florida’s Emerald Coast. Today is my 40th birthday and a relaxing getaway is exactly what I needed after a two-week road trip out west, where I hiked the highest peaks of Colorado and Arizona. The reasoning behind my latest excursion was simple: if I’m going to be “over the hill,” then I might as well be standing on top of a mountain.
Recharged
It’s 2:00 p.m. on Friday, Sept. 16, 2022, and I’m resting inside Honcho—my van—at the Taos Ski Valley Resort after successfully hiking Wheeler Peak, New Mexico’s highest point. I made the long drive west for a much-needed mental health getaway in nature. That, and it was a good excuse for me to test a new house battery I had installed the week before. Needless to say, my lungs and legs are physically exhausted after my 13,000-foot climb this morning, but the satisfaction that comes from summiting another mountain is just the feeling I was looking for.