Letter from Jules Miles

Woman hiking up a path, experiencing the wilderness and the breath of God.

Photo by Mitchell Orr

Dear readers,

I’ve always had a fascination with the wind.

I love the way it seems to move just about everything in creation, from the tallest of trees to the small, cut shavings of grass. I love the way wind can send shivers up your spine or give our bodies a small moment of respite on a hot, muggy day. I love thinking about how the wind makes animals run for shelter or makes the trees whistle and whisper to one another.

I’ve known for a long time that in a strange way, God has always spoken to me in the wind.

On a nice spring day in 2008, I felt that wind calling me into the wilderness. My year volunteering at a Catholic camp and retreat center was coming to a close. It had been a year full of pain, heartache, and doubt. It was a year where my depression and OCD seemed to spike at every social situation, sending me into countless hours of obsessive, sleepless nights, and a near-in-patient stay at a local hospital. And it was a year where I got my heart broken again and again by people I trusted the most.

But on that day, that beautiful spring day amidst one of the snowiest years in recent Midwest history, I felt a bit of reprieve as the wind called me deeper into the heart of the wilderness.

The camp which had been my home rested on a beautiful 250 acres of rural Wisconsin. It encompassed thick forests, wetlands, and grassy prairies. There were streams and swamps and even a small lake which, as legend has it, was the home to a giant fish named Walter.

As my year came to a close, and as I tried to make sense of all the heartbreak I endured the previous ten months, I strapped on my thickest boots and ventured into the spring trees. Life finally seemed to break through the snowy ground as I saw small spring flowers burst out of the ground and trees dance around me with their new, freshly painted leaves attached.

I hiked for hours in that wilderness, stopping to take in the beauty that seemed to be created only for me on that particular day. I breathed in the fresh air around me as I embraced the silence of that wilderness, and thanked God for a small moment of peace in my heart. And then I came upon it: Ruah.

Throughout the acres of wetlands and wilderness at camp were small campsites, many of which were hidden to most of our smaller campers. Each site had fire pits and benches, none of which were particularly fancy. They were simple stops on the journey for our older campers and a few select counselors who were privileged to know of their existence. And one of these sites was called Ruah.

Ruah (if you want to be very technical, “Ruach” in Hebrew) is the word used in Scripture to designate God’s Spirit. But for the ancients, and in Scripture as well, Ruah in its most literal translation also means breath, air, and wind. You see, our ancestors knew something so deeply important about the movement of God in this world. He is physical; He is a constant Presence, moving and breathing alongside us.

I sat quietly at that site for what seemed like over an hour, allowing the Breath of God to flood my face with a cool breeze, to send shivers up my spine at the thought of His mercy, and to bring new life to the plants and creatures all around me. In what seemed like a year that I wouldn’t survive, God had brought me out knowing that His plan was bigger, and that as my story continued to unfold, I would need that year of heartbreak to understand the rest of His plan. “The wind blows where it wills...” as the Scripture says (John 3:8), and I knew that wind would continue to accompany me past the year of heartbreak and into the great wilderness of wherever God was leading me next.

Many years have passed since I let the physicalness of God’s Spirit move my heart in the quiet calm of that campsite. I have gotten married, had many babies, and continued to seek His plan for my life in the journey of this urban wilderness I now occupy. But I often, more times than I know, actually, find myself returning to that spot in my mind. Why had God allowed me to go through such an immense period of suffering and pain? What was the role of that year in this story of mine, a story which continues to unfold? And, perhaps the most difficult question of all, am I allowing God to be the real author of that story?

In the past few years, confusion, pain, and heartache seem to be circling all around us. While my life has continued in the chaos of the ordinary, I know that so many others seem to be experiencing their deepest fears, pains, and struggles, both within and outside of our Church. For years I asked God what my role in it all was. How was I to help those around me? How could I help others to find their own purpose and unveil their true stories? Almost exactly one year ago, as I continued to pray over these questions in my life, a word was imprinted on my heart: “RUAH.”

In my time as a podcaster (my podcast is called “Mystery Through Manners”,) I was shown again and again the power of stories to change hearts, enliven spirits, build bridges, and create empathy. With each listener email or kind comment, I realized so much of my mission to tell stories of faith was centered on wanting others to experience that same gentle peace that I had experienced so many years ago. It was the peace in knowing that everything would be ok. The peace which reassured my heart that God would use my pain for the greater good of my story.

And as I sat in my office a year ago, I began to envision a plan to let other women experience that peace through the sharing of their own stories. I wrote out on paper every detail of this new vision; a platform for Catholic women to use the medium I loved (podcasting) to share their wisdom, heartache, and peace through the power of storytelling. Their stories would be a source of light for others looking for their own place in this great big Story, and, God-willing, would help us all to feel a little less alone.

Ruah Storytellers is a daily podcast to accompany you on your journey of faith in the Advent and Lenten seasons. Each day, a different Catholic woman shares a brief story from her journey, allowing each of us to broaden our perspectives and unite us in faith. Ruah Storytellers was built out of a desire to draw us together through the power of stories, but it was not done in some abstract, soul-less world. The purpose of Ruah is to unite us in the physical; to show us the humanity of the other on this journey and, God-willing, allow us to recognize and unveil the quite literal movements of God’s grace in this world.

Today, my family and I decided to venture into the wind. We had scheduled a basketball game downtown as a Christmas surprise for our boys, and, as it goes in life sometimes, this game happened to correspond with a brisk, windy snowstorm. After debating whether to stay or go, we looked at the hopeful faces of our sweet boys and decided to venture into the wind.

Walking to and from the various train stations, we huddled together as the wind swirled around us. We shivered and pushed past its power, sometimes literally being drawn out of our paths as we made our way to our destination. We breathed a sigh of relief as we made our way through the cold and into the warmth of the arena. My husband and I looked down at the faces of our sweet boys. Their eyes widened and their mouths opened, gasping at the site of the game they had anticipated since Christmas morning.

And I smiled. Thank goodness we ventured into the wind. Its wild, untamed movements shouldn’t stop us from continuing to live our story. Instead, we should embrace the wildness, embrace the uncertainty, and yes, even embrace the pain, because God’s Spirit moves in ways we can’t always anticipate.

I’m not sure where you are in your journeys, readers. Today, it very well could be the snowy, chaotic wilderness of the Wisconsin winter that I experienced so many years ago. Or perhaps you’re experiencing that sweet, simple breath of God moving in the quiet of the Ruah campsite. Whatever or wherever you are, God continues to write your story.

God bless you, readers,

Jules Miles

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Quote from the letter, “I embraced the silence of that wilderness, and thanked God for a small moment of peace in my heart.”

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For Your Reflection:

Reflect on a time when God has spoken to you in a time of sadness or difficulty.
How did you allow God to guide you through your difficulty? How did you change as a result of that time?

Take a moment to pray and thank God for the plan He has for your life; ask him for peace as you venture into that plan.

Share your experiences by commenting below!