I used to be terrified of snakes. Just thinking about their heads and the way they move made my skin slither. When I moved to the woods, I began walking every day. Slowly. Silently. Just looking. Absorbing my surroundings. The first time I spotted a snake sunning on the rocks by the pond, it stopped me in my tracks. My heart began to race and beat painfully hard in my chest. I was frozen, before I slowly backed away. I didn’t walk for days. And when I did begin again, I was on alert. So alert that as I was crunching over the fall leaves, I sensed the tiniest movement and again stopped short. I stood in place staring hard at the litter around me. And could make out the narrowest tongue, tiny eyes and oval head. I stayed still, staring. Then slowly walked away. Days after, I was walking down the path between my brother’s house and mine, when I noticed four feet of black cord moving to conceal itself underneath the wooden steps where I was walking. I paused to watch it go, then continued over the planks. Not a week later, I crossed my driveway right next to a slender black and white head popping up out of the monkey grass. “Aww cute” was the first thought I thought. Followed by, “wait, what.”

Somewhere in the walking. Somewhere in the absorbing. Somewhere concealed. Something basic changed. And it surprised even me. And I wonder if this is what it means to be transformed by the Holy Spirit.