I will never forget the first time that God revealed Himself to me. There have been many times since, but the first time was so amazing, so breathtaking, and so impossibly perfect that the experience stands out in my mind as one of the most significant days of my life.
I was 17 years old and the year was 1973. I was enrolled in a private boarding academy, much against my will. I lived in the girl’s dormitory on campus, situated along beachfront property on the outskirts of Watsonville, California. I had completed my sophomore year of high school, but rather than going home over the summer break, I remained on campus to work and attend summer school.
Staying behind that summer was not my choice; the truth was that I could not go home. Trouble brewed back at my parents’ house in Ceres, California. My father was a raging alcoholic, and my mother was his devoted victim. As a result, my family life had become engulfed in turmoil, grief, frustration, and fear. My sister, Linda, still lived at home, but because of all the trouble, Linda had withdrawn from school and from society, and had buried herself in her room, in her paperback junk books, in her own cocoon of escape. Linda and I were very different people – while she was withdrawn and detached, I was rebellious and confrontational. During the preceding few years, I had raged continually against my father’s alcoholism and the insanity it had brought on our family. I had lashed out in anger at him for causing my mother such despair and heartache. I had refused to accept our family’s awful fate and had pushed back as forcefully as I knew how. I thought my rebellion might help turn things around. I thought somebody would listen and rescue us from the destruction and hopelessness, or at least try to intervene, but my attempts to rattle the family back to some semblance of sanity had failed. Instead, my drunk father had accused me of causing all the trouble in the family. He had blamed me for his drinking, and in one triumphant gesture to end our battle, he had shipped me off to boarding school.
Only about twenty other students remained that summer along with me. Most stayed to work, to help their parents pay the expensive tuition. Nobody questioned me as to why I had stayed. Nobody knew what was going on back in Ceres. I was not well acquainted with any of the students who stayed that summer. All my good friends had gone home, and I felt completely alone. I was deeply angry and resentful, seething with silent rage. The feelings that flooded my mind and soul were too dark for me to manage at my young age. I was lost.
One late afternoon after the usual cafeteria supper, I went for a walk alone. I followed a utility road that dead-ended onto a dirt pathway leading to the cliffs overlooking the strip of private beach owned by the school. Dark green wind-sculpted cypress trees lined these bluffs. I pushed my way past their lowest branches and emerged on the rocky edge. The white beach stretched out far below in both directions. The day was still very warm, but a brisk, cool breeze blew in over the cliff, carrying the fresh smell and grit of ocean salt. I looked out over the massive, deep blue ocean. Early evening light shimmered off the waves. Gulls screeched and danced in the air, skimming the shallow water. I felt small and insignificant, like one of the grains of sand on the beach far below where I stood. My eyes swept over the immense view, and I searched the never-ending ocean for something – whales, perhaps, but more likely, I searched for answers, for a connection, for hope. Tears streamed down my face. My heart ached, my mind went numb, and I sobbed in deep despair, while the gulls fished and the sun slowly dropped into the water.
A thought came to my mind gently, like a whisper. I remembered something my mother had taught me as a small child: God would always be there when I needed Him. “So, then, where are you?” I sobbed. “Help me. Please.” I searched the sky, and pleaded for something that I could not put into words.
As the sun sank further into the horizon, colors began to form in the sky over the water. At first, typical sunset hues of tangerine, pink, and mustard emerged. Then, suddenly, as if responding to a direct command from heaven, the sky was set ablaze. Brilliant reds, oranges, and purples burst forth in a pattern radiating out from the sun into the firmament. Huge swatches of crimson, riotous jags of bright yellow and fiery patches of orange cascaded across the sky and danced off the ocean like a symphony. The colors were so rich and vivid that I could hear them. The majesty of the display before me was so powerful that it astonished me. I stood immobilized, in complete awe, breathless and overwhelmed. Just when I thought the colors had reached their pinnacle, they became even more intense and more vibrant. On and on, the sunset show pulsed hot through the evening sky, while the sun quietly slipped into the water. It was the most amazing thing I had ever seen, and more beautiful than words can possibly describe.
Then, quietly and humbly, the show gently faded. My heart pounded in my chest as the majesty of the event subsided. A cool calm filled the sky. Everything turned silvery and soft. I heard the gulls crying and the waves curling on the sand as my soul floated back down to earth. My heart filled with peace as never before, and I felt bathed in what I can only describe as perfect, unconditional love, pouring over and through me like one of the waves on the beach. It was real. It was God. The display that I had witnessed was His message, painted by His hand across the sky, for me, and it remains with me to this day: “Karen, I am the Creator of the Universe, and I love you more than you will ever know. Everything will be okay. I promise.”
Karen Haley
December 2012
December 2012
