Beauty From Ashes

Friday, October 4^th, 2013, will go down as the craziest day of my life to date.  If it could go wrong it did.

I was headed to the beach to meet some girlfriends for the weekend.  Before I connected with them I planned to hike to the summit of Neahkahnie Mountain – just me and God for some one-on-one time.

I woke up with a sore throat and the start of a bad cold.  I drove my husband’s new car, and on the way to the beach a rock flew up and chipped the windshield.  Things were not starting off well.

Once I got to the trailhead I realized that the trail system had been updated since my hiking book was written. I wasted almost an hour trying to track down the narrow, single track trail through the thick woods that I was supposed to follow.

Sweaty and highly frustrated, I stopped to use the bathroom before I headed out.  My shirt got snagged in my backpack strap, ripping a huge hole in it.  Normally I wouldn’t care but I was wearing my finishers shirt from a recent triathlon.  One more thing going wrong on a day that was supposed to be a fun.

As I prepared to use the bathroom, my phone slipped of my back pocket and plunged into toilet.  Fighting back tears, I fished it out of the grungy toilet (thankfully it wasn’t an outhouse), dried it off, tried to sanitize it as best as possible, and powered it off.

I contemplated turning around but I’m stupidly determined at times.  I made myself stick to the plan and headed out on the hike.  By myself.  With a phone that probably  was on it’s way to the Phone Graveyard.  Through thick, scary, dark woods.  What on earth was I thinking?

The trail was hard to follow with several dead-end rabbit trails and frantic moments as I retraced my steps to find the real trail again.  The woods were eerily empty.  I only saw two hiking groups the entire day and they were both heading down while I was on my way up.

I was ALONE. And I felt it.  But I also felt like a dark Evil was pursuing me.  No matter how hard I prayed I couldn’t shake the feeling that danger was around every corner.

By the time I reached the summit of the mountain I was a crabby ball of nerves.  I powered my phone back on and miraculously had cell coverage.  I sent my friends and Curt a cranky text message about what a terrible time I was having, adding that I would never hike alone again.  EVER!

I tried using the self timer on my phone to take a picture of myself with the ocean view but my phone kept tipping over on the rock.  Disgruntled, I retrieved my phone and headed back to my picnic area.  As I squatted to sit down my foot snagged the strap of my camera.  I watched in horror as my camera bounced from rock to rock, teetered on the edge of the summit, then careened off the edge.  It hit the ground below and shattered into three pieces.

Crouched on the edge of the mountain, I fully gave into the heavy emotions and fear I’d been battling back all day.  Screaming, sobbing, shaking.  It was awful.

With trembling hands I called Curt.  I was sobbing so hard he initially couldn’t understand a word I said.  Once we established that it was my camera and not ME that fell off the top of the mountain he began the process of helping me restore logic to my brain.  He told me to leave the camera behind and get the heck off that mountain.  But I couldn’t leave my camera.

The mountainside was steep but navigable.  I carefully slid down to the area where my camera landed.  The lens had flown off the camera into a thicket of thorns.  I tried to find it but only ended up with a thorn deeply embedded in my thumb.  Eventually I found the lens cap and the camera, but it was a shattered wreck.  A total loss.

I couldn’t stop crying and shaking.  I knew I needed to climb back to the summit to get my things but formulating logical thought patterns was cumbersome.  I packed the remains of my camera and my food into my backpack, strapped it on, tried to calm down, then picked my way off the summit back to the trail.

Sunset was two hours away, but it was already getting dark in the woods.  The thick presence of Evil was practically suffocating me.  I was terrified.

I tried to pray but felt like my brain was frozen.  I started running, but quickly tripped and fell.  Tears started flowing again.  I fell a second time. This trail was not safe to run.  There were too many hazards and obstacle, but I kept running.  The harder I ran, the more I felt Evil breathing down my neck.

I tripped a third time and fell.  Hard.  This time I ripped a hole in my brand new hiking pants.  I called Curt again.  (We realized after the fact it was miraculous the call went through because there was no cell reception in the thick woods.)   I wept into the phone, “I’ve never been so scared in my life. “

He prayed for me.  Told me others were praying.  Reminded me to quote Scripture out loud and pray.  And urged me again to get out of there.

I hung up and said out loud to myself, “The only thing that could make this worse is if I saw a snake,” then thought to myself, “Or if I get murdered.”  Two minutes later in the darkest, muddiest part of the woods was The Snake.  It covered the entire width of the trail and lay motionless, staring at me with its dark, beady eyes.

I screamed.  My scream echoed through the woods and I heard in it the depth of the sheer terror I felt.  I wondered if I might die.

In that dark, dark moment the Holy Spirit brought to my mind a verse from the second letter to Timothy in the New Testament.  “God has not given us a spirit of fear but of power, of love and a sound mind.”  

The Light of the World pierced the darkness of my paralyzing fear.

I mumbled it under my breath.  “God has not given me a spirit of fear.  But of power, of love and a sound mind.”  Said it again out loud, this time a little stronger.  “God has not give me a spirit of fear, but of power, of love and a sound mind.”  The more I quoted that truth from God’s Word the further the Fear subsided.

I was still terrified but I no longer thought I was going to die on that mountain.  Evil fled from The One who defeated it with his blood on the cross.

I quoted that verse over and over, all the way off the mountain and into the safety of my friend’s arms.

That day rattled me to my core.  I have never cried so much or been so scared.  Once I realized I was okay, I grieved the loss of my camera.  It wasn’t until my camera was gone that I realized the huge role photography played in my life – as a creative outlet and as a way to bless other people.

The Enemy intended October 4^th, 2013, to be a day that ruined me.  But My Jesus created beauty from ashes. 

Our insurance company replaced my camera.  Within days of receiving it, I did a soft launch of Jodi Stilp Photography LLC.

I photographed family after family after family that fall.  Taught myself how to use the photo editing software I bought.  Peppered my photographer friends with more questions than they probably ever wanted to answer.  Got licensed, a logo, and bought business cards.

The winter was spent drawing up a detailed business plan.  I interviewed friends, former clients, potential clients, and one photographer after another.  Met with two web designers who were generous with their time, talent, and knowledge.  Slowly but surely the little details came together.

It has been a wild ride, but each day of living the dream makes it come more alive.  It is with great joy and gratitude that I announce the official launch of Jodi Stilp Photography LLC.

I could not have done it without the help of Allie Rice from Allie Creative.  She designed my incredible logo and helped bring clarity and focus to my ideas.  Her ability to organize random ideas became the basic structure of what became a detailed business plan.

Luke Groeneweg took the brainstorming notes from my meetings with Allie and transformed them into a website that exceeds anything I could have hoped for.  He patiently fielded my lists of questions, funneled vague ideas into brilliant page layouts, and worked around my unpredictable schedule.  www.jodistilpphotography.com is his work of art.  “Thank you” doesn’t seem sufficient.

Sara Shearer and Jenni Carmon, my friends who are professional photographers, gave me a crash course in shooting portrait sessions, loaned me their equipment, offered insightful and valuable feedback, and cheered me on.  Their encouragement and expertise gave me confidence to keep shooting portraits.

My husband and kiddos have graciously endured a dirtier-than-normal house, non-gourmet dinners, and picked up the slack to allow me to add a job back into our schedule.  My kids have served as photo assistants on many of my shoots and are still content to receive payment in the form of candy.  They are my favorite!

Finally, thank you to my Mighty Creator who designed beauty, gave me an appreciation for it, and helps me capture it through my camera lens.  He gets the fame and credit for any beauty you see.  My Jesus makes all things new and creates beauty from ashes.  It doesn’t get any better than that.