I Look to the Hills

At age eighteen months I contracted polio and was sent to a convalescent home with other children also afflicted by “infantile paralysis”. At the doctors’ suggestion, my parents left me alone in the home for treatment. It was a traumatic time that left a mark on my soul. 

Me with a brace on my leg after my bout with polio.

The disease also left a mark on my body, weakening the muscles in my left foot and hip. 

The news story of my illness.

 Thankfully in time, I was able to walk without braces or other assistance. I felt great triumph and joy when, at age thirteen, I learned to ride a bike. 

Getting my driver’s license was freedom! Finally, I could move without the restrictions placed upon me by polio. For me, there’s nothing better than the open road. 

So, it was with a great expectation of joy that I left the rainy skies of my home in the Pacific Northwest to go on a 3,000-mile road trip to Idaho and California with my sister, Ruth Ann. 

Rainy Washington State.

 What I didn’t expect was that this journey to sunny skies would also be a time of deep reflection. 

We had a wonderful visit with our Idaho cousins. It was fun catching up on current happenings and reminiscing about our time working together as teenagers on our grandparent’s cherry orchard in the summer.

Me and my sister Ruth Ann with our Idaho cousins.

As I steered Ruth Ann’s gray Subaru Forester onto Nevada US 93, we I chatted happily about our visit with our cousins and the next phase of our journey. 

My brother, Tom and more cousins.

First, we’d travel to Palm Springs where we’d bathe in the sun and soak in the pool. 

Then we’d drive to Temecula, California where we’d take our old friends, Janet and Matt, to The Refinery Church for Easter–the home of my favorite pastor, Casey Graves. 

Me and Ruth Ann with Casey Graves.

At first, Ruth Ann and I were so busy talking about our visit with cousins and our upcoming plans, that I hardly noticed the barren desert we were driving through. 

But as towns all but disappeared, and we passed yet another sign saying No Services for 80 Miles, I began to feel unsettled. 

 At a tiny gas station perched forlornly on the side of the road, Ruth Ann took over driving. I climbed into the passenger seat of the Subaru, suddenly overwhelmed by the immensity of the dull, gray desert surrounding us. 

The Nevada desert.

It reminded me of a season in my life when I’d suffered a loss that left me severely depressed. My emotional world had felt as gray, and flat as this land in Nevada.

Eating had lost its pleasure, and I couldn’t sleep. Everything was uninteresting and hopeless. It was as if this season of dark sadness would never end. Just like this stretch of highway 93.

As we drove further South, a range of craggy, snowcapped mountains appeared out the window. Hopeful at this sign of progress toward our destination, I kept my eyes trained on the magnificent peaks soaring in the distance. Soon we were in a valley ringed by rugged mountains bright with snow.

Nevada mountains coming into view.

 These verses popped into my mind:

“I lift my eyes to the hills. From where does my help come? My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth.” Psalm 121:1, ESV

Suddenly I was reminded of the friends and family who had prayed and supported me during my season of deep depression. God had provided these people to stand like mountains of hope to guide me through the valley of depression and to the other side.

My friends knew that I knew that I’d been left alone at the convalescent home as a terrified young child with polio. And they knew about the loss I was grieving.

At their suggestion, I went to the doctor and got an antidepressant and something to help me sleep. 

Then my friend, Jill, began to organize others to help me pay for a type of psychotherapy called Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing that is used to help people heal from distressing and traumatic life events. The EMDR was very effective and soon my depression began to lift. 

I was relieved when we finally drove into Palm Springs and the world was transformed with color, interesting sights, and new fun. 

Just like when I had traveled through my deep valley of depression to a fresh world of a restored life, and the hope of new possibilities.

 Sharon Brown was born in Emmet, Idaho surrounded by a loving family. She earned a degree in secondary education at Boise State University and taught in Emmet until 1974 when she moved to Vancouver, WA. There, she taught at three different middle schools before her retirement. Besides spending time with her family, Sharon enjoys Bible study, visiting with neighbors, reading, and traveling.