A True Spiritual Rescue Story in the New York Mountains
During a solo trip to Los Angeles earlier that spring —
a trip where I first sensed that the mountains and plants were “alive” —
I felt something awakening inside me.
I didn’t fully understand what was happening,
but ever since that trip,
I found myself irresistibly drawn to nature—
as if something in me had quietly woken up.
So when a friend’s family invited us on a weekend camping trip,
I happily said yes.
I never expected that a simple weekend camping trip
would turn into a life-threatening experience—
or that a young beech tree in the middle of a mountain forest
would save my children’s lives.
Day 2 — Entering the Trail with Four Children
The next day, the children wanted to walk the mountain trail.
But all the fathers were fast asleep after lunch,
so I decided to take my three kids plus my friend’s son and start the hike.
New York mountain trails don’t always have clear paths.
Sometimes you only see a small blue mark painted on a tree.
If you lose sight of that blue mark…
You’re out.
And yes—we lost it.
Lost in the forest
It became darker as the sun began to set.
The trees blocked the sky, and the forest floor grew dim.
The children were exhausted.
My oldest daughter—who was four at the time—
was on the verge of tears.
And then suddenly I realized:
“In about fifteen minutes… it will be night.”
No cell signal.
No direction.
And I was the only adult.
My heart started racing.
Panic was right behind me.
So I called out silently, inside my mind:
“Gyu—Michael—please help us!”
That was when I saw it.
The Pillar of Light
Ahead of us, a pillar of golden light appeared.
It wasn’t a supernatural light—
it was sunlight pouring through a rare opening in the trees,
a small place where nothing grew.
But the moment I saw it,
something inside me said:
“That place is our sanctuary.”
Gathering the children,
I headed toward the light.
The Sanctuary
When we reached it, I saw two large fallen trees forming a perfect X on the ground.
Because of this, that one spot had no canopy.
It was brighter than anywhere else in the forest.
And in the center of the X,
there was a young beech tree standing straight and strong.
The Beech Tree
I sat the children down on the fallen trunk.
I stood beside the young beech tree,
thinking desperately:
“What do I do?
How do I get my kids safely back before the sun sets completely?”
I walked around the sanctuary with my phone in hand,
hoping for a signal.
Nothing.
The fear came back.
My hands and legs were trembling.
Instinctively, I reached out and grabbed the beech tree with my left hand,
holding onto its trunk firmly.
Then I looked at my phone again.
One bar.
Just one.
But it was there.
My phone—
which had not been working, completely out of service—
suddenly showed a single bar of signal.
I let go of the beech tree.
No service.
I touched the tree again.
One bar.
I shouted:
“Kids!
Mama found a magic tree!”
Holding the beech tree with one hand,
I dialed 911 with the other.
And the call went through.
Rescue
When the rescue team arrived,
the rangers kept asking:
“How did you call 911 from here?”
“Which carrier are you using?”
“It’s impossible to get a signal in this mountain!”
Even I was confused at that moment, but I simply pointed at the young beech tree.
I realized something that night:
I truly had become friends with the mountains.
And the mountains in L.A.—
the ones that welcomed me first—
had spoken to the mountains in New York.
Nature had protected us.