My An Arkie's Faith column from the June 5, 2024, issue of The Polk County Pulse.
“Wake up, wake up,” my sister-in-law hollered up the stairs to the loft. “I hate waking you, but you must see this.” I sat up in bed and rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. Looking out the windows that stretched across the entire end of the cabin, I saw an incredible sight.
It was the last week of September 2020, and we were staying at the Wildwood Cabin high atop a mountain north of Ponca, Arkansas. Perched on a hillside, so high up on stilts that the deck is in the treetops, the cabin seems straight out of a fairy tale. Oversized windows provide a sweeping view of the upper Buffalo River wilderness.
The sun was coming up as I lay in bed, my heart filled with a profound sense of awe at the sight of the Buffalo River valley. The orange glow, like a majestic canopy, spread over the valley stretching below the cabin. White clouds filled the valleys, and it looked like a vast, white ocean stretching as far as my eyes could see. The wispy tops of the clouds added to the illusion of looking out over a body of water. I quickly dressed and went down the stairs and onto the deck, eager to immerse myself in this breathtaking beauty.
After a difficult spring and summer, we were on our first out-of-town trip since the COVID-19 outbreak. We visited our favorite place in Arkansas, the Ponca and Jasper area of the Buffalo River. I knew it would be a great day with the beautiful sunrise and the otherworldly view from our cabin. Today, we were going somewhere we had never been before: the lower section of the Buffalo River.
After spending a couple of hours at the old, abandoned mining town of Rush, we headed to Buffalo Point. When we arrived, I pulled into a parking spot and exited the car. The views of the river and bluffs were terrific. The large bluff at Buffalo Point is named Painted Bluff. It gets its name from the water seeping over the top portion of the bluff, darkening the rock and giving it a painted look.
After taking in the spectacular view, I started walking down the steep path to the water’s edge to get a better look at the bluff. After taking only a few steps, my phone buzzed, alerting me that I had received a text message. I was surprised because there was no cell service, but I had a new message. As I read the text, I couldn’t believe my eyes. It said, “Hey there! You might not remember me, but I was the editor at the Star a couple of years ago. I’ve moved back to town, and the Pulse offered me a job as editor. I’ve been here for about two months now. In that time, I’ve noticed your column is no longer in the Star. I was really disappointed with that because I really enjoyed your column. I’d be thrilled, as I know readers would, if your thoughts were circulating again. I hope you’ll consider sharing your thoughts with the Pulse and let me know if it is a possibility.”
It had been over six months since I had written anything. I had gone from writing every time I had a chance to writing almost nothing. When COVID-19 sent the world into a tailspin in March 2020, the column I had written for over four years was one of the casualties. Like many other people, the pandemic turned my world upside down. I felt like nothing would ever be right again. It seemed like I was trying to swim upstream through molasses. This trip to the Buffalo River was starting to give me a new lease on life. I had always found solace in writing, a significant part of my identity. The absence of it during the pandemic had left a void in my life.
When I told my wife about the text message, she said, “That is an answer to my prayers.” “What do you mean,” I replied. “I have been praying that you would be inspired to write again,” she answered. I immediately knew what to do and quickly texted, “I would love to write for you.” With a new reason to write, I had an article finished in a couple of days, and my column, An Arkie’s Faith, debuted in the next week’s issue of the Polk County Pulse.
Writing again was a beacon of light in my life, lifting me out of a dark place filled with lethargy and depression. With a renewed sense of purpose and a weekly deadline, I started looking for the positive things around me instead of focusing on the craziness that still flooded the world. We can never know what might have been if something in our lives had never happened, but I am sure that the text message I received while looking at the breathtakingly picturesque Painted Bluff changed my life. I know that over 190 articles, 200,000 words, and a book exist because of that text.
Most people underestimate their ability to make a difference. They ask, what can just one person do? But we never know how our actions will impact someone’s life. Jude 1:22 (NKJV) says, “And on some have compassion, making a difference.” You have the power to make a difference. You can have compassion. You may not be able to change the world, but you can significantly impact someone's life. John F. Kennedy said, “One person can make a difference, and everyone should try.” In Zechariah 7:9 (GW), God tells us to “be compassionate and kind to each other.” Imagine the profound difference you could make by being kind and compassionate to others.
Just like a text changed my life in 2020, I recently received an e-mail explaining the changes at the Pulse that would affect me. Learning that the Polk County Pulse would no longer exist filled me with a profound sense of loss. The Pulse has been more than just a platform for my writing; it has been a community where I could share my thoughts and connect with readers. The news of its end felt like the loss of a dear friend.
Gentle Reader, I want to thank Jeri for sending that text and the Polk County Pulse for allowing me to share my thoughts with you for the past four years. I want to thank all the readers of An Arkie’s Faith, especially those who have contacted and encouraged me. “It’s time to say goodbye, but I think goodbyes are sad, and I’d much rather say hello. Hello to a new adventure.” – Ernie Harwell
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