The Ghost In My Shelter

Looking into the empty three walled wilderness lean-to, I read a journal page stuck to the log. Its scrawl looked like it was written with smeared wet charcoal.

“BEWARE OF GHOST”

I don’t expect to find truth I'm looking for from a Ghost, dropping my back-pack on the floor I leaned back and listened to the forest's quiet whispers. My long hippie hair hung loose around my shoulders, and my worn boots sat beside my pack. I had been walking the Appalachian Trail for a month, weeks and days now, seeking solitude.

The mountains had become my isolated personal space. I've been doing a lot of reflecting lately, and felt that I need to take some time to focus on my mental health. A saying from home came to mind “The Lord does not look at the things people look at. People look at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart." and my heart was hurting. 

In order to take care of myself in the way I need right now, I’d stepped back from all communication and was giving myself the space to work through some things, not sure what things, but some things..

As darkness approached, I smiled to myself. This quiet isolated shelter was exactly what I wanted. Taking over I spread out everything on the lower of two sleeping shelves, and watched shadows dance across the forest floor, birds whistling their gentle evening songs, and tree frogs crooked in the distance.

Perfect silence. Perfect night.

Then—the forest erupted with sound.

Laughter, clanging metal pots, and cracking twigs shattered my peace and chased all the birds away. A line of boys emerged from the trees, followed by a few adults who struggled herding them like crazy hyperactive cats. My heart sank as they piled into my shelter, dropping backpacks and sleeping bags for their one night camp out everywhere, knocking my things over.

I retreated to the farthest corner, giving them a sharp cutting glare.

One of the tall kids said, "There's not enough room for all of us on the top shelf," 

Another said, "I guess someone will have to sleep down with the stinky old guy."

Old guy? I looked around at their leaders for “the old guy”, before realizing they were looking at me. I was only twenty! But looking at my sweat-stained shirt hanging to dry, I had to admit I wasn't all sunshine and roses

They drew fake straws and told the smallest boy with brown hair and matching pants that looked like he rolled in the dirt, “Sorry,” They told him, he couldn’t come up on the top shelf. When he came over, already talking, I realized my dream of peace was gone.

"H,i I’m Sammy, are you a hiker?”

“Um, duh”, and just pointed to my boots.

“Hey mister, where you from?" he asked..

"South," I muttered, hoping he'd stop talking.

"Where you going?"

"North."

"What're these big rocks for, mister?" he asked, poking at the stones with the toe of his sneaker.

"Keep annoyances out," I scowled.

"What's the big logs at the front for?"

"To keep out the bears that eat annoying kids!"

His eyes widened, I saw his lip twitch, and remembered what my Dad had said once, "Do not be interested only in your own life, but be interested in the lives of others."

"And chipmunks," I added quickly. "It's mostly for chipmunks."

While the other kids laughed and played cards on the upper bunk, Sammy sat quietly beside me, looking out at the forest. I felt sorry for him—stuck down here with the stinky old guy.

All shadows were now gone, “Shhhhh, lie down,” I demanded, hoping for quiet to return, and as it did and we all dozed off, I thought of chipmunks and bears and kids.

Then there was a scratching against the back of the shelter.

Sammy squeaked. "What's that?"

"Probably just a raccoon," I said, then seeing his fear grow, "or a chipmunk."

The scratching moved around to the side of the shelter, then seemed to stop.

Suddenly, little Sammy pointed out the front of the shelter. 

"LOOK! It's THE GHOST!"

In the fading light, some big white animal seemed to flap from a tree to a bush to a tree. Not as big as a bear, but big enough to worry me. It moved closer and closer, running and hiding, running and hiding. The ghost approached the logs of the shelter, my side.

Now I wish I was on the upper bunk too.

Everything was absolutely silent now as we heard small rocks tumble from outside. Suddenly something small and black scurried across the shelter floor. Then another. And another.

Six baby skunks were exploring the shelter, sniffing at our belongings.

“quiet! Quiet! QUIET!” I shook and whispered, but before we could react, we heard a large rock tumble away outside, and my backpack fell over. Something struggled through the gap between the dirt floor and the log wall.

It was enormous!

The biggest, whitest skunk I had ever seen.

 The Ghost!

Now I understood the warning note.

I froze and held my breath as I realized I was closest to the opening, closest to the momma skunk and her babies. One spray would be unbearable, choking, and blinding in this enclosed space.

Sammy’s eyes grew wide, and he pointed at my head. 

I held my breath... The shelter was silent except for scurrying little feet.

I felt something tugging my long hair—the momma skunk was standing on her hind legs, nibbling and pawing at my long, fragrant hair hanging over the edge of the bunk!

Then a little "achoo" from momma skunk broke the silence, and the startled baby skunks scampered back out through the hole.

Sammy giggled softly. "I guess even skunks think you need a bath too."

Looking over, I saw that Sammy still looked a little frightened.

"You know," I said, surprising myself by speaking first, "I think she was just curious. Her babies were exploring, just as you kids were."

"You were scared?" he asked.

"Yes," I admitted. "Everyone gets scared sometimes, even hikers who've been on the trail for weeks."

"I've never been camping before," he said. 

"Well, Sammy, you're doing great for your first time," I told him. "You're braver than I was on my first night out here."

In the morning, as I packed up to leave before the others awoke, Sammy rolled over and blinked sleepily at me.

"Will I be a good hiker like you someday?" he asked.

I looked at him—really looked at him for the first time and thinking of an old verse, “For he who does not love his brother, whom he has seen, cannot love God, whom he has not seen." 

—and I realized that if I wanted to be at peace here in the woods, I’d have to change. 

“Sammy,” I said, "You're already a great hiker, and someday you'll have even greater adventures."

References:

1 Samuel 16:7, Philippians 2:4, 1 John 4:20b