098: Rafe

I sat in my green room, alone for the first time in days and stared at my hand. I rolled it hard to the right, looked at the minute wrinkles, the knobby knuckles, the slant and pull of sinews, and the unfamiliar ring on the fourth finger of my right hand. I twirled it carefully, felt of its weight, its viability. Then I closed my eyes for the millionth time today and let my thoughts roam over each event. It had been a perfect day.

Sunrise on Chipinique Mountain was something I was hardly prepared for. And it wasn't just sunrise. We drove to the top and then hiked the steep trails to the summit, finding a softly lit, very windy and cool flat place where we did our yoga and meditation, and Aubrey, bless her heart, simply pulled out her phone and asked if we wanted a scripture. We did. It was just me and Ben. She read something from First Nephi, something I remembered form seminary and Primary and church in general. The feeling today was profound though. I knew I would never forget it. I just felt Nephi's presence. As his story came rushing back to my memory, without Aubrey's help, I recalled that fourteen year old boy having the faith to stand up to everyone he knew, and doing things that were one hundred percent opposite to what he was comfortable with and what he'd been taught.

The sun came up, the wind blew us around, our bodies responded to stretches and poses, and soft, silent contemplation. Ben was absolutely dead still for a long time, his eyes closed in meditation, and Aubrey was also personally involved, trusting, her hair blowing back, her muscles straining, her eyes closed. I studied the ground, the particles of earth beneath me, the softness, the thought that others--- for thousands of years, maybe even Nephi himself, had walked here, had seen the sun rise from this vantage point, had prepared for their day, their lives, their life's work. The sky had changed from yellow and blue to pink and orange and even purple.

I watched as stars faded and disappeared, and the moon slid from the sky tenderly.

Our bodies refreshed, we three--- yes, we three, in Aubrey's unpretentious way--- offered a prayer on that mountain top in the dawn light. It wasn't long. It wasn't deep. But it was full of confidence that God could hear us. I started thinking things I hadn't ever before. Moses high on Sinai, asking for direction from God, Joseph Smith in the grove, humbly trying to figure things out.

We didn't talk about it, we planned the cave expedition, and when we got back to the bus, we rounded up our little sightseeing companions and drove off to be there by 10. The Grotos de Garcia caves were not very well maintained, but they were deep and lovely and so beguiling--- so strangely compelling, again thoughts of who had been here before me, who had come here, not the ones in recorded history, but the ones before that--- The Lamanites and Nephites, the Mayans and the Aztecs.

Deep thoughts.

Holli met us for lunch, and then took me and Ben away to a radio station for an interview. It was a good interview. I was glad, because the mood I was in--- speculative and contemplative led me to songwriting at times like these, not speaking assignments.

I met Aubrey afterwards, she had gone shopping and had collected another little pottery thing and some hair do-dads for nieces. Also a small woolen blanket she liked. And she'd contacted the missionaries who came to the Parque Fundidora where there was a fake river walk and open spaces, but we found a gazebo type thing, talked for a few minutes, they answered some questions and finally gave me the blessing I asked for.

I hadn't had a blessing--- that I can remember--- ever. I'd seen them given, and held the microphone for guys giving their babies blessings at church once or twice. But I could not remember being the one to sit in the chair with hands on my head and hear the voice of God through his servants. And ---- I know it was the voice of God.

I had been thinking about the spirit I'd felt in connection with concern for Aubrey the other day, and how that was possible, and about my own worthiness, and my perceptions. I still had perceptions of things that made me feel like the church and I were too fundamentally different. But the blessing said if I kept doing what my Bishop had told me, and prayed every day, sincerely wanting to know truth, I would be told truth--- every single truth I sought would be given to me.

I felt the sting of tears.

I looked up during the blessing at Aubrey. She was standing there, her arms folded and her little bags on the ground at her feet. Her eyes were closed, her hair pulled back in a loose pony tail, and the way the sun glinted off her curls made her look like an angel. I knew I wasn't good enough for her.

It was the first time I'd really understood how my unworthiness affected me. It felt like generations were rushing at me. Down the corridors of time, I knew my choices had changed the course of many lives. And not all my choices had been good ones. Years of promiscuous living had hardened me. Aubrey was strong, but would she be able to tear down all the brick walls I'd put up?

Ben was with us. And lo and behold, he asked for a blessing too.

Shock didn't even begin to describe my feelings about his humble request. The missionaries, both from the states, had given him a very comforting blessing, telling him his humble searching was noted by the Savior and his questions would be answered, and his family would be protected by his legitimate and sincere desires to change his life.

I was shook up.

The missionaries left, we walked to the snack bar and had some kind of cold drink, and we sat by the fake river and talked about nothing. And it was good.

I'd never felt so close to anyone as I did to Aubrey and Ben and God right then.

I had a TV appearance before dinner, and I couldn't have eaten anyway, so asked Aubrey just to make me a smoothie and her herbs for later, and meet me at the green room after the interviews. Before she and Ben had parted ways with me, she'd taken me aside, down by the fake pond thing, with a few real geese and ducks and frogs---

She'd taken my hand as she stood in front of me. "Rafe, you keep giving me these perfect days."

"It has been a rather remarkable day." I agreed, starting to do the run down in my head of songs I would be playing at the gig tonight. Not that I wasn't paying attention to her, but I just had this inner clock that counted down time to performances and started prepping me.

She lifted my hand and slipped a ring on my fourth finger. I was so startled I could hardly speak. She was looking down at it, smoothing the skin of my fingers.

"Think of me when you sing tonight." She said softly. "Think of our quest and how we are changing our lives around, permanently and for the better. I am honored to be a part of your journey, Rafe Stryker. You give me so much--- love, and acceptance--- I don't think I've ever felt so much love. It's almost bigger than I know how to express." Then she brought my hand up and kissed the fingers, each one, her eyes on mine. "One kiss for each song you sing about love and life. As you wrap your fingers around the mike, or play your guitar, keep your amazing worth in the back of your mind. Your life is blessing mine."

I didn't want my mouth to drop open, but I think it did. I didn't want to look like an idiot, but I couldn't even respond, I was so moved.

And now, I sat here, in the green room looking at that ring. It was silver, or white gold, and had a shield on it, with the letters remembered from my childhood, CTR--- standing for Choose. The. Right. I know she hadn't meant anything specific, but just to give us another moment, another memory, another beautiful strengthening chink in our armor. But it stood for something amazing.

There were songs I couldn't sing tonight, songs in our playlist. Songs the audience loved to hear. I knew I couldn't sing them. I couldn't bear to hear my voice singing words that dishonored this beautiful awakening I was feeling. This funny forgiveness I felt coming from somewhere outside myself, and the way my brain sort of felt all melty when I thought about my own issues with the church and with God--- as if I could forgive as well.

But I could give them something in exchange. I could give them Fall into the Ocean, and they could be the first to hear it live. And maybe that would be enough.

I went to tell the guys.

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