A Prayer Request on Good Friday

...for Daniel

The Granite Dells | Fujifilm X-Series

Of all the places in all the world, at a cafe,’ 5,300 feet high, in a town surrounded by wild rock formations, boulders balanced precariously as lions waiting to pounce, fingers, hands stretching upward, some curved around as if to embrace our flesh yearning for meaning -- we would meet Daniel.

The first few days on holiday would bring unforeseen, moments from teary-eyed strangers leaving us questioning what was inevitably to come. Rare encounters with owners of the same dog breed as ours, same age and rainbow bridge goodbyes subsequently experienced within days of each other on a mountain in the middle of Arizona. You see, this trip was about our years of marriage, however it was also about the years left with our adopted senior dog, eking every last bit of energy from his oversized Pembroke frame.

So when we happened upon Daniel, his bedraggled approximate 5’10” frame, weathered face, painful cough, and large backpack stuffed with what seemed to be all his worldly possessions, it was no coincidence we would walk away weighted down by the fortitude of his battle. Like the Granite Dells, which began 1.4 billion years ago, with Precambrian granite protruding from the valley floor into the azure blue of the West, where the Yavapai, “People of the Sun,” and other Native American tribes would roam over 9,000 years ago, utilizing the area's resources for agriculture and gathering, Daniel would come west from Maui, to do the same. To gather up chance, hope and sustenance.

On Maui, Daniel’s lifelong home, he had spent years surfing and informed us he had traveled most of the world, almost spoken as antidote to his singular living and pending demise. In 2023, at 48, he fled his home as the deadliest fire in U.S. history swallowed Lahaina like a fire breathing Leviathan rising out of the sea. With his own car in flames, he took the closest available car and began to make his way to Main Street where he would collect other islanders fleeing on foot. As they approached the police barriers, preventing escape, Daniel hit the gas, bursting through -- leaving authority and panic covered in dust.

Entire families would burn to death in their homes, cars, and several would sprint toward the water, treading helplessly, as the dragon’s fiery breath blew from sail to sail.

“His body also was like the beryl, and his face as the appearance of lightning, and his eyes as lamps of fire, and his arms and his feet like in color to polished brass, and the voice of his words like the voice of a multitude.” - Daniel 10:6

Did Christ speak to our Daniel? Did he survive a fire of Biblical proportion only to construct the courage to come west and yet fight another behemoth? Could it be our tears are never enough to drink from, nor the salt that burns our face, enough healing sting to cure the open dizzying wound of humanity? That the fate of Daniel who lived over 500 years before Christ was born. Christ, who bared our burdens and exacted our sins, would be speaking to us today for the future of our own given destinies? Life preserved through divine presence in the fire? For our Daniel who spoke his life’s chance into the faith of the unknown, a voice of a multitude, where “friends” would disappear at his most dire, yet a Friend for life would be his unknowing guide, possibly breathing cure into his broken body?

I hope. Oh how I hope.

One month ago, while working for a tiny home manufacturer in Lahaina, Daniel felt strange and sore. Enough to go to the doctor, who asked, after chest x-rays, if he had fallen? “No, I haven’t fallen or had an accident. I just don’t feel good.” “Well,” the doctor said, “you have five broken ribs.” Miffed, Daniel went home to heal and began to feel worse.” Several MRI’s later, he would discover, in a matter of two weeks, he had stage three colon cancer. After much research, the mountain town of Prescott, Arizona would be pinned. An impetus on a worldwide map of saving graces and “a place to crash.”

When his friend didn’t show, Daniel rode a bus from the airport to our unplanned destination, setting his backpack down on the patio of Wild Iris Coffeehouse. Drawn to the dainty blossom trees on the serene and roomy patio, we interrupted our walk and settled next to Daniel in a patch of shimmery sunshine. A picture of a couple and a dog with a ride. Still waiting for a response from his friend, we would talk about his life, offer a meal, prayer, a ride, our information, anything, as he finally said goodbye and walked toward hope.

Some will say, “we are living through history.” Something big. Dying in droves. There are many days I feel this deep within my core, a shift, a man-made force/choice, begging for a spotlight. But there is a stark realization that once we reach death’s invitation, the will of prayer, love and kindness is our sole soul medicine.

C.S. Lewis said, "When the author walks on to the stage, the play is over."

As we reflect on Good Friday, God’s sacrifice, His only Son, Jesus, on the cross, the gift of atonement, forgiveness and reconciliation to Him, may we find our way to the stage of one more chance.

Of all the places in the world…

May we find peace

which surpasses all understanding

in chaos and uncertainty.

May we seek gratitude,

giving thanks for one more day.

May we see ourselves

as His children

and may we love

by praying for each other.

For Daniel.

Watson Lake surrounded by Granite Dells

Old man, take a look at my life, I'm a lot like you
I need someone to love me the whole day through
Ah, one look in my eyes and you can tell that's true…

- Neil Young

J O H N 3:16