Last September I took a vacation with God. It wasn’t anything elaborate or expensive. I simply felt like we needed time alone together - just me and God without the many distractions of work, emails, cell phone calls, and the beloved family.

Let’s call it a Godcation. And why not? First there was the Mancation, which gained popularity earlier in the decade, where the guys would get away to blow off steam and escape the daily grind. Typically the Mancation involved outdoor adventures, or Harley rides, or gambling extravaganzas in Vegas. Next was the Staycation, which, in today’s economic climate, is experiencing a big resurgence in popularity. This is where you take your vacation time at home.

Now, I’d like to recommend another new trend, using personal vacation time for spiritual growth.

I never considered a Godcation as unusual or creepy or anything of that sort. However, I must admit that on more than one occasion upon mentioning it to an acquaintance, to one who was perhaps less spiritually inclined than I, the response I got was generally a vacant, confused stare.

"Hey, Brad! Where were you last week?"

"Oh, I took a few days off to get away. I was up in the mountains."

"Wow, that sounds great! You and the family?"

"Uh… no. It was just me."

"                                                     " (Awkward silence.)

"Alone?" They furrow their brow and tilt their heads inquisitively, trying to guess whether it’s because of a mental health breakdown or the instability of my marriage.

"Yeah, alone. It was kind of a retreat, I guess."

"Oh. What did you, um….do?"

"Plenty. I went hiking, I read, I wrote. I prayed a lot. Actually I kept very busy."

"Alone?" they ask again, this time with a nervous laugh, the kind that says "He’s joking, right?"

"Yeah, like I said. Alone"

"Huh."

By this point in the conversation, my friend has veered so far out of his spiritual comfort zone that he feigns a doctor’s-office cough and grasps for something to physically hold on to while he scans the room to regain his orientation. Then he walks away slowly or changes the subject.

People think that a full grown, married, professional business man going off by himself into the mountains is just straight-out weird. They are not comfortable with the idea of alone. Alone with God is even scarier. Sure, they’re thinking, it’s okay if that same idea came from their nutcase cultish cousin, or maybe their priest or rabbi, but from Bradley? A normal, productive member of our Bucks County society? He’s going too far off the ledge.

It would probably be more acceptable if I told them I was going to a monastery or a Buddhist retreat center. "Oh, by all means!" they’d say. "I read in the New York Times about this wonderful retreat center in the Poconos run by the Benedictine Order of monks. Did you know they serve only locally raised organic food? It sounds just divine!" And in truth, some day I may check in to a monastery, too. A friend of mine seeks out these monasteries on a regular basis, three, four times a year, where he parks and unloads his spiritual baggage for a few days. There in silence, he meditates and consults with God on business, family, and his personal growth. Typically he writes long and passionate letters to God while he is there. What’s interesting is that before the retreat is over, God usually writes him back.

I’ve checked out some of those retreat centers, and I am a bit dismayed to report that they are generally quite Spartan. I prefer to treat God to a bit more upscale furnishings, so we tend to gravitate more towards the Great Lodges in the Adirondacks. I rent a small room for two or three nights where I can sit in a comfortable, over-stuffed chair, smell the wood smoke of the crackling fire all evening, and wake up to the sound of loons on the lake. It’s here, in the quiet midst of these ancient and beautiful mountains spread deep with a blanket of balsam fir, where they loom mightily over placid hollows of silver-blue lakes, here is where I think, pray, read and commune with the Almighty.

I have taken a Godcation every year for the past four years. This past September was not unlike the others, except that God gave me a bit of a scare. I think He was playing with me, and wanted to teach me a lesson. Well, that He did.

When the appointed time came for this year’s Godcation, I grabbed my journal, a good pen, my hiking boots, a backpack and a dorky-looking poncho. I loaded them into the car, and drove off into the sunrise to meet up with God in the great Adirondack Mountains.

The Adirondacks are a pristine swath of six million acres of preserved land in upstate New York. There are 42 high peaks interspersed with a multitude of lakes, and expansive stretches of rural wilderness that go on for miles. It is an ideal place to get away, to be alone with God. Sure, a few people get lost out there every year. It is a big place after all. But those unfortunate souls usually get into trouble because of plain old-fashioned stupidity. Each month, Aridondac magazine devotes a few pages to an intriguing section called "The Accident Report," where the park rangers report on these "incidents." It’s the best part of the magazine:

And here’s another good one. "Other incidents included a heart attack death of a fifty-three-year old male at Slant Rock." Poor sucker. I wonder how long it was before they found him. If he was alone it could have been days before they realized he was a goner, and then a few more before they found him. Shoulda kept up with the workouts, buddy! Yeah, and maybe you could have laid off the cheesecake, too. Fat guy thinks he can hike the Adirondacks. What was he thinking?

I consulted the Lord with my trusty hiking guide, and we carefully selected the first day’s hike: Hoffman’s Notch. This trail was particularly appealing because it was not far from the lodge we were staying at, and although it was a seven mile trail, the vertical rise was only three hundred feet. In other words, it was an easy hike. "Handsome streams, waterfalls and upland marshes edge the trail in its entire length," the guidebook said. Sounds beautiful. I figured I could hit the trail mid-morning, hike for a few hours, then turn around and get back to the lodge in time for dinner. God agreed heartily with my excellent plan.

By the time I reached the trailhead, the sky was turning a stubborn grey overcast. But I wasn’t going to let a few clouds bother me. Besides, I had that poncho in my backpack in case it rained. I parked the car, got out and found the signs marking the start of the trail. I took in a deep breath, relishing the scent of balsam evergreens, the smells and sounds of the forest, and the sheer joy of having uninterrupted time alone with God.

I had prepared a meditative hike for today, drawing from the words of the Psalms to reflect on God’s goodness. That would be a good way to start off the Godcation, to get us on a good spiritual footing. There was much to be grateful for, and I hadn’t nearly thanked God as much as I should.

The first few hundred yards of the hike were like a stroll down an off-country lane. The trail offered wide, roomy paths, and every so often a sturdy bridge crossed over one of those handsome streams that was mentioned in the guidebook. I began reciting words of praise and gratefulness in time with my steps, taking in the beauty of the forest along the way. Soon the path became more narrow and uneven, meandering through a forest that was becoming increasingly dense. Even though it had only been a few minutes, I felt a million miles from civilization. Not a sole to be seen. Ah, to be all alone in the big woods. Unfortunately, it was here that another thought crossed my mind, a non-grateful thought, interrupting my words of praise. "Gosh, I really am quite alone out here. What if…." I tried to discipline my thoughts. Oh, come now, Bradley, you’re a big boy. You’ve hiked in these mountains since you were a teenager. "Yeah, but what if I have a heart attack like the guy in the Incident Report? He wasn’t much older than me. Yes, I could have a heart attack. No one would find me for days!" I checked my pulse. Was that a shooting pain down my arm? A low grade anxiety crept up and hung by my side, dogging my steps as I delved deeper and deeper into the dark recess of the black forest. What if what if what if what if?? I couldn’t stop thinking about the fifty-three-year-old-male in the Accident Report. That could happen to anybody. I mean, at least any male who is closing in on the age of fifty.

Dying of a heart attack in the wilderness would definitely ruin my Godcation.

To be continued...