An hour later I arrive at the opening of the trail that leads to the hill. I’d made a stop at home first to retrieve the postcard Nathan had sent me. I need to confirm the connection between the tree and the last card I had ever received from my brother.
I make my way into the woods and my pace becomes quicker as I know I’m getting closer to the palm’s location. The sun is beginning to set and the shadows of the trees leave fascinating images on the ground. All the snow is beginning to melt away but the crisp fresh air that accompanies the frozen flakes is still present. The pine leaves start to rustle as the breeze blows through the expanding forest.
Just as I’m about to reach my destination I hear voices coming from the direction of where I’m headed. I slowly continue to the opening of the meadow and as I gaze into the distance where the palm tree sits I can see several people standing on top of the mound.
I walk through the meadow to get a closer look and I can now make out the faces of some of my classmates. I observe some of them kneeling by the tree with their eyes closed. Others have their hands rested on the palm tree. I move forward to the hill to find out what’s happening.
As I reach the bottom of the mound I hear someone say, “This is probably a waste of time. God would you please just give me a new Mercedes? I promise I’ll take care of it.” I look up from where I’m standing but I see no one talking. Everyone is standing still and silent with their heads bowed; it appears that they’re praying.
I hear another voice. “I know I need to study more, but football is important to me and I need to go to practice. If you could just give me an “A” on my last test I won’t have to quit the team.”
Suddenly several voices go off at once and I hear bits and pieces of each request. Their mouths are not moving yet I can still hear their words.
Some prayed to be the strongest. One wished for bigger breasts and another prayed for popularity. This continues for at least twenty seconds and I start to panic as I watch my classmates standing silently.
I close my eyes and cover my ears to try to make it stop but I can still hear them. The ability to grow a mustache, the desire to become famous, and to become president are the demands that wrap up the jumbled prayers.
All the voices start to fade. In the end I hear a faint soft voice saying “…please don’t let her die.” Then everything becomes silent.
I slowly open my eyes and remove my hands away from my ears. I look up to see all of my classmates now staring back at me, completely aware of my presence.
“Zenny!” I hear someone yell from the hilltop.
“Hey everyone,” I speak softly.
I walk to the top and wonder if they can see me shaking. I’m breathing hard and trying to understand if I’ve adopted superhuman powers. I gaze at everyone and they all either look confused or embarrassed.
“Oh hey,” says Daniel Rodman the school’s football quarterback. “I didn’t think you would show up here. Umm, a few of us just wanted to see if what you were saying was true so we decided to come up here and check it out ourselves.”
“Well, I don’t think all of you will hear the voice of God so soon,” their presence here makes me uneasy; “these things could take time.”
“Yeah we know that,” says Chelsea Denny, a school band member still dressed in her uniform. “But you also said that God told you He would answer your prayer after you prayed at this tree. So we figured we might as well throw some requests its way and see what happens.”
“Right,” I say uncertainly. “I’m sure it couldn’t hurt to try. All of you are praying so that probably makes Him really happy, but who knows if He’ll actually answer my prayer.”
“We think He already has,” says Daniel. “I used to think you were a freak but now I just think you’re really weird. And I accept your weirdness!” he yells and pats me on the shoulder.
Everyone nods and smiles. It seems they are proud of the fact that they have graciously accepted my oddness. Apparently they’re doing me a favor.
I force myself to focus knowing this is my chance to ask them questions about the Professor.
“You guys had mentioned that this tree was planted as a memorial for a teacher at the university. What was his name?” I ask.
“Yeah, Professor Hamling,” says Chelsea, “he taught History classes at the university.”
“What happened to him?” I ask.
“He died about six months ago. When he moved here from New York he had been sick for a while.”
Sick from what?” I ask. Chelsea seems to notice my curiosity.
“Leukemia,” she says glumly. “They had an entire website posted with his biography so people could donate for funeral costs. It’s probably still active if you want to find out more about him. My mother worked in the Administration office at the university and she’s met him before. She said he was always talking about God’s grace even though he was sick. Everybody at the university loved him, and they knew he liked coming up here to hike. So they all got together to plant this tree for him.”
“Why did they choose a palm tree?” I ask.
“I don’t know, they figured that’s what he would want. It’s still a mystery to everyone how the palm has survived so well during the winters here, it’s always thriving. Maybe there really is something special about it,” she says while looking up to examine its leaves.
“So how long do you think it will take for our prayers to be answered?” Daniel interrupts.
“I’m not really sure,” I say as they turn to me for advice on something I’m clearly not familiar with. “Maybe soon if it’s really important. What did you all pray for?”
Everyone becomes silent and they start exchanging nervous glances, waiting for someone to share their request. I look towards Chelsea expecting an answer.
“Oh,” she giggles, “I prayed to end world hunger. Whoa, look at the time,” she looks down at her wrist to check an imaginary watch. “I better get going.”
As she hurries off everybody else on the hilltop decides to leave as well. I watch them all scatter out into the meadow towards the trail.
And here I am. Alone at last with the palm tree that has become the most significant thing in my life. I step back to examine the tree that no longer glows brightly, but still holds a sense of radiance. I walk closer to it and rest my hand on its trunk. I stand there for a few minutes but nothing happens. I move both hands to rest them on the tree. The moss that covers it feels cool and damp and it secretes an Earthy scent.
I decide to try something different, something I’ve never done before. I had told everyone that I was praying to God when he spoke to me, so that’s what I’ll do. If the man I had seen really was a ghost then the existence of a spirit could support the idea that God really does exist.
At this moment I need to let my guard down and disregard some facts of our reality. I must allow myself to believe in something that I cannot see. I’m scared yet eager to discover the truth.
What have I got to lose? I shut my eyes, bow my head, and began to pray out loud.
“Hey God, umm, what's up?” I laugh at myself and then begin to feel sad that I don’t even know how to start a prayer, still I continue.
“I know that I’ve never talked to You before but this past week has opened my mind to a lot of new things. I’m not sure what I saw the last time I was here and that’s what I’m trying to figure out. I saw something or someone, things that I’ve never seen before. All I know is that after it went away I wanted it to come back. The man I saw said he was sent here to help me. I’m not sure if he was sent by You but I heard you do good things so I’m hoping you had something to do with it.”
Tear drops unexpectedly start to trickle down my cheeks. I’m not sure where all this emotion is coming from. I guess it’s because this is my last chance to find something worth living for.
“If You did send him here to help me I would mostly like to say…thank you. And if You are still with me please send me a sign. Please send me a miracle. Amen.”
I keep my head bowed and remain silent, expecting a booming voice from the Heavens to speak while a flash of lightning strikes down. But minutes pass by and nothing happens. I lift my head and open my eyes to inspect the tree.
Its glowing appearance has not returned and the mysterious man assumed to be the ghost of Professor Hamling is still nowhere to be found. Maybe I am losing my mind. But I hope more than anything I’ve ever hoped for that I’m not wrong about this tree.
I remember Nathan’s postcard I had put in the back pocket of my jeans. I hold it out in front of me to compare the image on the card to the palm that sits in front of me. Sure enough the scenery is identical.
***
I wait near the palm tree for almost two hours. For a while I think maybe God is testing my patience so I keep waiting a little longer. But the woods have become dark and the thin jacket I’m wearing is not enough to withstand the cold night. Feeling defeated I make my way out of the woods to head home.
I walk into my house helpless, tired, and disappointed that I was unable to find definite answers. I must be doing something wrong. This time I was ready and expectant of some type of spiritual presence but I received nothing.
I plop myself on the couch and take a minute to reassess my situation. Luckily the house is quiet. My mother isn’t home, probably on another date with Mr. Right. She left me a note on the refrigerator that says: I’ll be home late. Dinner on stove.
I look over at the stove and see a can of chicken noodle soup sitting on top and the can opener rests beside it. This new guy she’s seeing must be leaving her in a better mood. She never makes a conscious effort to show she cares for my well-being.
I suddenly remember my classmate mentioning the website dedicated to the Professor. I run to get my tablet and quickly turn it on to see what I can find. Surprisingly the university still has a link to the website dedicated to him. Once I click on it I’m stunned to see a picture of Professor Hamling photographed with other staff members at the school, only he doesn’t look like the man I saw that night.
He’s completely bald, most likely caused from his hair loss during treatments. His body looked very thin and the effects of his disease had taken its toll on his appearance. His eyes looked tired but were still the deep green color I remember seeing. He smiles brightly in the photo and it’s all I can focus on. Despite his circumstantial exterior he was still absolutely beautiful.
I anxiously read through his biography searching for information that will lead me to discoveries. Most of what I read is revealing and properly introduces me to the man I had seen. It turns out the Professor was only thirty-five years old when he passed away. He had never married and had no children. He was born and raised in Boulder but moved to New York City to pursue his dreams. Interesting, just like Nathan. He was a masterful guitar player. He had a love for ancient world history and he was also a devoted Christian.
They used a quote from him on the webpage that says:
“Teaching others is what I was sent here to do. I approach each day with a wholehearted passion to discern the truth and knowledge within the world.”
Near the bottom of the webpage is a screenshot image of the university's newspaper. It seems he had even made front page news when he arrived at the school. The headline reads: “Reputable Professor leaves Manhattan to shine light on Boulder.”
As I read through the editorial I discover that Lukas Hamling was actually a controversial teacher of Ancient History. Excerpts from the article read:
“His curriculum drifts away from traditional lessons as he explores the desire to find the truth hidden in this world. Hamling also claims he has found significant evidence that disproves several stories in American history books.”
Professor Hamling had gone so far as to make the statement:
“Historical evidence has been corrupted and altered to support ideas crafted by people with ulterior motives.”
The article gets candid when it describes how his teachings landed him in hot water with the Board of Education. Apparently they had been easy on him because they knew he was sick, but after the enrollment rates for his class skyrocketed he was given the option to comply with the school’s ideologies or to leave the university indefinitely. Professor Hamling chose to depart from the university that same day. He returned to Boulder to spend his last days with his family.
This man is absolutely fascinating. For a moment my excitement prevails above the major discovery that is displayed right in front of me. My brother attended the same university in Manhattan where Lukas Hamling taught. And according to my findings he was also enrolled as a student around the same time the Professor became infamous.
Dear Diary,
Where do I go from here? I’ve just made a huge discovery and I still feel lost. Even with all of this new information I’m still not sure what my next step should be.
Do I track down the family of Lukas Hamling for more insight to his life? Should I travel to New York City and seek out my brother’s friends to find out what they know?
I went back to the tree hoping I would see another apparition but nothing appeared to me. I even prayed for the first time in my life asking God for a miracle. I’m still waiting.
Unless…maybe Lukas is my miracle? He did appear moments before I was going to attempt to end my life. I probably wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for his interference.
OMG. I feel like an idiot. Here I am demanding proof of something extraordinary when I’ve already been slapped in the face by a phenomenon. What the heck is wrong with me?!?
Here I am insisting to see more proof before I believe, but there has always been this lingering feeling within me that I’ve known the truth all along.
Something has happened to me throughout my life that has broken my ability to see the truth. I don’t know why or how but this world has left me blinded. I was too proud to admit this…God does exist, and He’s trying to tell me something. For some reason I’ve been given a second chance. Now it’s up to me to find out why.