The Quail, Bishop Jakes and Me

After I made the turn off Route 181, Highway 186 stretched in front of me, heat waves rising from the pavement in the early morning sun. I had always enjoyed driving this three and one-half mile stretch of road. It ends right at the base of the Chiracahua National Monument, veering left and up to the Monument, and veering right and around the mountain. Because of the elevation, cottonwood giants line the cool basins of the road, and wildflowers cavort in the meadows. It is not unusual to see a herd of deer or antelope grazing in the mountain coolness.

My client lives on the “around-the-mountain” road – the last ranch before officially entering National Forest land. Elliot once owned all the grazing land between 186 and Willcox, and may still, for all I know. He is a wonderful 92-year-old man who lives in a sprawling ranch house surrounded by lush green grass and big trees. His children call every day and visit from Tucson and Safford every weekend. They are a lovely family, and it is an honor for our caregivers to be with Elliot on an around-the-clock basis. I enjoy my “checkup” visits very much, and that day I was especially looking forward to sitting beside Elliot and teasing with him.

The Arizona quail have always enchanted me with their little topknots bobbing as they walk, slightly leaning forward - Mama and Daddy, then babies. The old Bangles song “Walk Like an Egyptian” floats between my ears every time I see them.

There was only one quail, not a family, on Highway 186. I braked the car so that he could scurry on safely to one side of the road or the other, but he began running - first one way, then the other, while I tried to maneuver opposite him. In a few brief seconds, I sensed his panic. I could almost hear him screaming, “Help me! Help me! Which way should I go? I’ll go this way…no…I’ll go that way! Help me decide which way to go!”

My left front tire flattened him. Too late, I stopped the car and cried. I could see a dark spot on the road in my rearview mirror…not even carrion left…just a dark spot on the highway.

“He was me, Lord,” I cried. “I see myself running first one way, then another, screaming for help. Please guide me, Father. I don’t want to just be a dark spot on the highway. Please guide my life as you want it to be, because I know that Your Will is Perfect.”

Finally, I drove on around the mountain to Elliot’s house, feeling a sense of peace that I had, once again, “given it to God.” But, one hour later, as I left my client’s house, my mind was running first one way, then another. “I’ll try this way! No, I’ll try that way!” I was mentally making an email and registered letter list of everyone from Al Sharpton to Senator Obama. Rosie O’Donnell even entered my frantic brain (well, Oprah had never written back nor called). Someone, somewhere, somehow, just had to come to our rescue and right this wrong!

When I had driven close enough to see the little brown spot on the highway, I felt shame.
“I’m sorry, Lord. I asked you to take it this burden, and then I took it back. Lord, why is it so difficult to give up control? Especially when it is obvious that no one but You cares, Lord!”

I had a peaceful evening, knowing that everything was in the Mighty Hands of God, and I did not have to give the whole matter another thought. I would not be a little brown spot on the highway because I had no direction. The Lord would direct me. “I will trust in the Lord with all my heart and lean not into my own understanding. In all my ways I will acknowledge Him, and He will direct my paths.”

I walked Little Bubba and Piggy, ate a bit of dinner, and then fell asleep on the couch.

The next morning dawned irritatingly hot. It had been 107 degrees the day before, and it looked as if the coming day would be even worse. One of the dogs had thrown up his or her dinner in the hallway, and I stepped in the mess barefoot. I was “on edge,” and verging on anger. I showered and said my morning prayers, but my mind kept jumping from my prayers to my problems.

During my shower, I had loosely formed a plan: I would organize a concerned taxpayer’s group, and we would have an Arizona Tea Party 2007, “Taxation without Information.”
We would let people know how the state and county had broken the law, let them know the harm that had been done to the frail elderly and to the schools. We would let them know how the county and the state had suppressed this information “For the Greater Good.” And, we would let everyone know how Cochise County and the State of Arizona had hurt Carolyn and me. A newspaper headline even composed itself in my head: “County and State Fall Under Federal Investigation.” I paid no attention to the nagging little voice that said, “Hey…remember… the whole U. S. of A. participates in LGIPs, so nothing I do or say will matter.” I was determined to do this. This was the answer. I, the great I, had deemed it so, and the great I would start the ball rolling by shooting off a letter to Cochise County, inviting them to come to the Tea Party. (Cochise County would, of course, apologize and tell the crowd of 5,000 how they had fixed things so that the debacle would never happen again, and, that if the County ever again invested money, it would be because of a vote of the people.)

My endorphins were raging and my fingers were itching to get to the computer keys, but fortunately, I don’t have DSL – just regular “dial-up,” and it gives me time to think before I jump. While the old Compaq was grinding open windows, I flipped on the TV, and there he was, Bishop T.D. Jakes, with a message I had not before heard, called Night Seasons. His presence filled the room from the television. “I’ve got a message for someone,” he announced as his presence grew bigger than the TV and he stood in the middle of my living room. “ Don’t write that letter! Don’t make that phone call!”

My whole being shook. “Lord, you are talking to me through Bishop Jakes again!” Tears rolled down my cheeks as Pastor Jakes strode about the stage. The message continued. “Be still, and know that I am God!”

The letter did not get written; the phone call was not made. The Arizona Tea Party of 2007 will never come to pass. I am still. I know that God is God!