
Just over a year and a half ago, I graduated a three year, certification training program to become a spiritual director. I don’t direct anything really, it took me on a deep interior journey while learning how to be present to others, listen well, and help others contemplate and discern the movement/presence of God in their own life.
The weekend of graduation was our end of year retreat. A piece of that retreat was education about the life and works of Howard Thurman, with some bonus meditation on some of his works. I’m not writing to teach you about Howard, just enough to highlight how God introduced me to this amazing man and a connection to God through nature.
On retreat, I learned as quoted from the website, https:/www.howardthurmanfilm.com/howard-thurman, “He (Howard) found refuge during times of loneliness and trepidation in an old oak tree in his back yard. It was while young Howard stood with his back placed firmly against the tree that he first felt the unity of all living things and engaged in what he would later call, “the religious experience.”
I also had a “religious experience” on retreat. The connection in my mind and heart are the roots of Howard’s tree and mine, sensing a connection, making the journey, to finally meet, embracing each other like long lost friends, running to each other after a lifetime of being apart. In that moment, I envisioned Howard and I meeting and spontaneously acknowledging a connection, greeting each other in a warm embrace, both with an unspoken understanding that we already knew and loved each other. Love across generations, miles, and time with no regard for anything, except love, acceptance, and understanding of the other. That “religious experience” poured out of my heart and onto the page in front of me and this is what happened. Two oak trees, representing two humans, connected to each other by God and the merciful love bestowed on each of us. It was also on that weekend, the desire was planted in my heart to go to Daytona to visit Howard’s childhood home, sit with my back against his tree with the hope of not so much a “religious experience” , but possibly a spiritual one.

I feel the need to share a little bit about my own oak tree connection. My oak tree stands, and has stood, for what arborists estimate to be at least 700 years in the back yard of my dad’s childhood home. My experience of that oak tree wasn’t the same as Howard’s, yet since my childhood, I have felt a connection to my oak tree, so much so, it is woven in and through my heart and my life’s story.
In my childhood, that great oak was a fortress, a safe place of sorts, extending its long arms to welcome me to its embrace. I could even walk up into the branches, as it’s reach would touch the ground in some places. As I grew up and years passed, that oak tree became a long standing reminder of the many wonderful memories myself and our family made under its cover. That’s not the end of that story, but I want to get back to Daytona!

Nearly a year later, I made my way to Daytona Beach to visit a dear friend. I asked her in the planning of our visit if she would be willing to go on a little field trip with me. To my delight and excitement, she agreed.

When we arrived, we parked to the right side of the house. As we stepped out of the car and began to wander around the home and property, I found myself drawn to one particular tree. It was not marked and there was at least one other oak tree on the property, yet my heart and soul knew which tree belonged to Howard.
It was at that moment, I sensed an almost tangible presence of Howard, as though he knew I came to sit with him under his oak tree and he chose to join me. My heart and soul were deeply touched as I sat with my friend. I became overwhelmed with emotion and tears fell from my eyes.
As I stood up and walked towards the front of the house, fully prepared to take a few more photos and head home. A woman pulled into a parking space near our truck. By the time she got out of her car and made her way to the front of the house, we were there waiting to greet her and inquire a bit more about the house.
I am certain this was all God’s timing. After introductions the woman stated she had passed by only a short while ago and noticed us there, under the correct tree, Howard’s tree. I shared with her (briefly) about my introduction to Howard and my joy at having made it to visit his home. As it turned out, she is affiliated with the home and shared that while they normally conduct tours, they were on pause due to the need for termite treatment. We talked a bit longer out in front of the home and to my surprise and delight, she invited us in to see inside.





Wow! What a gift and blessing to delve deeper into the life and legacy of a great man. From top to bottom, left to right: Me just inside the front door, Howard’s bedrooms, his view of his tree, a different perspective of the staircase, and the cute little back porch (just outside the kitchen of my memory serves me correctly).
I could only imagine in my heart, from my own studies and what our guide shared, what life might have been like for Howard.
As the tour finished, we were in the front living room area where preparations were being make for a couple of sessions of summer camp. Through conversation amongst the three of us, I shared my love of creativity and how I had even had the joy of teaching art for a short time up in Virginia.
What happened next came as a tremendous and joyful surprise…
…I was invited to come and lead a short expressive arts session during the week of camp for the older kids. What? Me? I knew it was God’s hand and timing and our great Creator doesn’t make mistakes, so I gladly accepted.
I pray you’ll come back again soon to read the rest of the story and see what great things took place during summer camp.
🧡 Kimberly
Oh what a lovely story of your spiritual experience. God is so gracious to lead us to special places as you described. He takes such good care of His children. I’m so glad that I know you Kim, and your Southport tree. I so look forward to the continuation of the story. Blessings, Pat
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