I heard my husband cry out and I looked back through the rain to see him lying on the muddy concrete slab of the viewing area. Our already stressful day was about to get more so. I was also about to re-learn a valuable lesson about how Divine Spirit is always available to help, if I listen.

We were on an overdue vacation, and so far, it looked like we should have done a “stay-cation.” The morning of our flight I hurt my back and the flights to Arizona were painful. It started to rain the second day we were there, and we joked about it being a “warm rain,” fully expecting it to be a brief episode. It was not.

We heard about a wildlife sanctuary in a remote part of Arizona where thousands of sandhill cranes gathered this time of year, and decided, being good Alaskans, we wouldn’t let a little rain stop us from exploring. We borrowed a friend’s older truck for traveling the back roads, and set off on the (what was supposed to be) two-hour journey. Three hours and 80 miles of bumpy roads later, we arrived at a small sign indicating the turn into the parking area.

Looking back, there were several points prior to and during the trip that Divine Spirit was nudging me to make a different choice than to continue our little plan. Rather than listen to my intuition the little self (ego) prevailed and I ignored the inner voice.

We stepped out of the truck into the rain and the most bizarre mud we’d ever experienced. Again, being good Alaskans, we knew all about mud. But this mud (we learned later) was a clay-based mud that sticks to itself; our boots became heavier and we became taller with every step. If we were smart we’d have gotten back in the truck. However, as I stated before, self-will was running the show.

We continued on the trail trying to see whatever birds we could through the rain. The much-heralded thousands of sandhill cranes were apparently smarter than us and had gone somewhere else for their flocking pleasure. The 40 or so cranes left behind were little specks with long necks in the distance. My husband walked out on a concrete viewing platform and slipped in the mud falling hard on his hip and shoulder — the shoulder with the torn rotator cuff. He was in pain and covered in mud, including his camera and binoculars. Adrenalin kicked in and we went into triage mode. No broken bones and he could still move his arm. We were 10 minutes from the truck, three hours from home, and caked in mud.

Bird-viewing abruptly over, we clumped our way back to the truck in silence. The mud on our boots was not budging so we removed them and placed the boots and his coat into a garbage bag. Another bag protected the front seat from our jeans. The silence continued as we left the parking lot, soaking wet and in our socks.

We needed to find a gas station before starting the long trip back. We drove to the closest dot on the map, a tiny town with nothing but an old gas station. A bearded and grizzled old-timer came out and told us “cash only.” Steve got out of the truck, stood in his socks in the rain and talked to the old guy while the gas was pumped. I sat in the truck, crying. I asked Divine Spirit for help with my emotions, a combination of anger, fear and sadness. I could hear the men talking, and then, clear as a bell the old-timer said, “Dang, that could have been a lot worse … you got off good!” It was Divine Spirit speaking through the gas station guru, or what I call “the golden-tongued wisdom.” It was what I needed to hear. It could have been a lot worse, in so many ways. We were lucky.

I’d like to say all it took was one lesson to remind me to listen to Divine Spirit, but the truth is, my little self still runs the show much of the time. More and more, however, I have experiences showing me that following my inner voice is the easier, softer way. And when I don’t listen, gas station gurus and the golden-tongued wisdom are there to help.

• Wendy Hamilton is a member of Eckankar, The Path of Spiritual Freedom. “Living & Growing” is a weekly column written by different authors and submitted by local clergy and spiritual leaders.