This week I received a treasure in my mailbox; it was an unexpected letter from a former neighbor and walking partner. We’d last exchanged Christmas correspondence three years ago. She came across my letter when she was cleaning out her chest of drawers and looked up my website. After reading some of the drafts that came from my memoir, she said, “You inspired my writing bug.”

There were two areas of my posts that particularly resonated with her: care-taking of my mother who’d had dementia and the magic of Sedona. My neighbor shared from her heart about being caught off-guard two years ago when her mother became ill, declined rapidly, and died . How sad it was that years of care-taking of her father — with dementia and other medical problems, had taken a toll on her mother’s health. How beautifully my neighbor wrote of this event in her life that had impacted her so deeply.

From that poignant account of her mother’s last days, she went on to speak of a happier time last November when she and her husband traveled to Sedona. At a phase when she described a “need for a reset”, she found the “vivid colors and grandeur of the red rock are indeed as mesmerizing and awe-inspiring as imagined.”

I understood her need for a reset; that’s the state I was in when I first traveled to Sedona.

For me, it followed eight months of breast cancer treatment. I needed freedom to move about without being under the microscope of my oncologist or caring family and friends. My doctor cleared me for work travel — to attend a pharmaceutical meeting in Phoenix, Arizona followed by a research conference in San Francisco, California. In between the meetings there was time to travel — but it would have to be alone; none of my coworkers were going to both events.

After studying the map and praying about where I could safely travel alone for the first time, the idea came to go to Sedona. Mama had been there to visit her friend and said, “It’s the prettiest place I’ve ever seen.” Not surprising since Mama loved rocks 🙂 It was just a two-hour drive from Phoenix. Since I’d never been in that area of the Southwest, after visiting Sedona I’d venture two-hours further to the Grand Canyon.

I drove away from the Phoenix airport in my rental car on noon that Thursday morning. Mid-afternoon I drove around the curve to my first sight of nature’s red rock sculptures of Sedona; it took my breath away. I had to pull off the road to take in that magnificent site and to thank God that I’d arrived.

I had twenty-four hours to spend in Sedona before I had to drive to the Grand Canyon. With no schedule, no fellow-travelers to confer with about what to do, where to go, I drove around “as the Spirit led me.” I traveled down roads just to see where they ended, discovering pastures of horses grazing in the afternoon light, unconcerned with the woman in that car watching them. I found a hiking trail at Oak Creek Canyon and walked along the water then sat on a rock to soak in that place. Eighteen years later, in 2019, I would remember those moments when I chose a cover for my memoir.

I ate dinner, a tasty burrito in one of the many downtown restaurants, letting go of my awkwardness at eating alone in the family-filled dining room. Instead of hiding behind my book, I put it down and watched the interactions and felt thankful for my supportive family back home. I missed my husband and teenage sons, but I was glad to have a break from the mother-duties of cooking and picking the boys up from their activities. It was the first time I’d had for just me in a very long time.

I ended the day following the advice of one of the shopkeepers; go out to the airport to see the sun set. Wow! I was glad I did. Along with other cars that dotted the side of the hill, I sat on the back of mine and joined in the collective “ooh and ahhh” as the sun spotlighted different facets of the rocks. The following morning, I explored more of the area and said a prayer of thanksgiving while lighting a candle at the Chapel of the Holy Cross that sat high atop the red rocks of Sedona.

While I only had twenty-four hours in that place, it was different from any twenty-four hours I’d ever had. I didn’t force an agenda, a check-off list of where I should go, but listened to the locals and then moved about as I felt led. There was time to sit and ponder, to feel the breeze on my face and the sun at my back. There was time to Just Be.

Now, I’m thankful for the letter from my neighbor that has reminded me of the power of that twenty-four hours in Sedona. I’ve stayed in other places much longer, but being present and moving by the Spirit, letting go of control, impacted me in a new way.

May you find the places and state of Just Being that help you to move further along your path, finding freedom in letting go.

Connie