Today I was thinking to myself, I wonder what I usually write about on my blog around birthday time. And that right there reminded that I am indeed getting older.
My 29th birthday is tomorrow, and I've been celebrating hard for a week now. Last Thursday night I took off for the folks' place for some mama-daughter shop and eat retreat time, something that has become something of an annual tradition. This year, it was Williamsburg and Iowa City shopping followed by the Lincoln Cafe for dinner. Then Derrick came down and my parents came up for a play day including Sunday brunch, apple orchards, and the perfect weather for some romping and picnicking in the Mines of Spain. It was such a great weekend to kick off birthday week.
But unfortunately, the calendar didn't know it was my birthday, and the week at work hit me hard. Projects stacked up, deadlines loomed, and I even had a mini meltdown last night. Poor Derrick was the recipient of that episode.
But now that I've made it nearly through the week, just one short work day left in front of me, I can look back and remember that even though the week wasn't perfect, it still was sure good. I am blessed to have a career to pour myself into that I love, a man who loves me even when I make life miserable, family that I can enjoy and spend time with, and enough projects to keep me moving my whole life. This is good stuff, people. This is blessing.
It always seems that we're just waiting, right? Just waiting until we've got life all together. Just waiting to be an adult, or waiting for that big promotion, or waiting for Mr. Right to come along. Some things we must wait on, and they can be worth the wait. And some things depend on God's timing rather than our own. But I think that far too often, we find ourselves waiting on the wrong things because frankly we won't ever have it all together or be perfectly financially stable or win the lottery... But life can be so good without those things. So let's blow past all those things we're waiting on but won't ever necessarily come true. Let's live into the blessings we've been given despite all those things we're waiting for.
In that spirit, I deem tomorrow the first day of the year of "Go!" It is not the year of "Wait" or the year of "Caution" or the year of "Get it all Together". Messy, wild, crazy, filled with ups and downs, bold, emotional, adventurous, brimming with blessings, not always perfect. That's my 29th year. The year of "Go!"
Thursday, October 25, 2012
Monday, October 08, 2012
Life on the Edge: Lessons from 14,000 Feet
Below is more or less the chapel talk I gave today. It came packaged with lots of pictures of views and scenes from our mountaintop adventures, but I guess you'll just have to thumb through my facebook photos for the full effect. Enjoy!
---
Five years ago or so, my dad and I had a crazy idea. We wanted to take a vacation, just he and I to do a little hiking. But we decided that it couldn't be just any hiking. No, we decided that we would climb 14,000-foot peaks in Colorado. With 58 14ers in the state of Colorado, we had quite a goal in front of us to climb as many of them as we could in our lifetime. And now, each summer, we load up the truck and take a road trip to hike for a week or so together. As of this past July, we've conquered a few of them...okay, 21 summits together. With those 21 summits, we've hiked 149.5 total miles while gaining 63,750 total feet in elevation (or 127,500 feet of total elevation change), all in a matter of 16 total days of hiking. To give you some perspective of what climbing 14ers is like, usually the hikes we attempt are between six and eighteen miles long round trip and gain anywhere from 2,000 to 6,000 feet from trailhead to summit. Usually there are trails to follow, but not always. And we usually plan between six and twelve hours to complete one peak. So this is not ropes and helmets and ice picks climbing, but it's no walk in the woods either.
It's been an incredible and indescribable journey so far, and along the way, I've learned a thing or two about technical hiking and scrambling as well as the proper equipment and fitness required for such a hobby, but I've learned so much more about God, life, my dad, and myself in the process. There's just something about the wilderness...there's a silence out there, without all of the buzzing and noise of normal life, and it just seems like conversations have freedom to roam where they otherwise might not, and the thoughts and prayers in my head and heart seem almost crystal clear, and there's just something about the experience that creates countless opportunities to grow.
Now please keep in mind as we get started here that I'm no preacher, so this is not really a sermon as much as just a few reflections and lessons learned from an adventure loving girl learning about life while living on the edge.
The first lesson I'm going to share today is one of the most recent and freshest, most vivid memories I have from this past summer. And that is, sometimes, friends, it can be dark!
Summer afternoons in the Colorado mountains are, if nothing else, predictably unpredictable. You can count on most afternoons to be wrought with thunderstorms, perhaps with sleet and hail, and probably lots of lightning. In order to avoid being the only lightning rod for miles up there above the treeline, hikers need to plan to be heading down off of a summit by about noon each day. Now I will confess to having left more than one comfy warm hotel room bed at the very uncomfortable hour of 2:45 am or so to drive some nasty mountain pass to a trailhead and get ready to hike by 4:00 or 5:00 am. And in case you aren't all that familiar with that time of day, it is dark!
On one particular morning this past summer, we were at the trailhead, ready to climb by about 4:15 am, knowing we had a very long and difficult hike in front of us. After fumbling around the frigid parking lot for a few minutes trying to stuff last minute gear into our packs, which is by the way my least favorite part of each hike, we took off up the trail with flashlights in hand. Now, I'm not afraid of the dark per se, but there have been very few circumstances in my life in which I have experienced such total and utter darkness as this particular morning.We had to hike for nearly an hour and a half like this before the sun gave any indication that it wanted to rise. My eyes were constantly trying to strain just beyond the flashlight edges, looking for anything beyond the tiny bit of light I had with me. I could hear flowing water on one side of me, but I didn't know if it was a stream right near the trail or if it was a hundred foot cliff to the water below. And I can't tell you how many rocks and roots I tripped and stumbled over as we went. Every step became a challenge because I honestly began to doubt that the ground would continue to be underneath my next step.
To me, this was actually strangely familiar because it represented how I sometimes felt in life. In times of trials or struggles, I find myself beginning to beg God to show me more than I can see. I strain to try to understand what is beyond what I can comprehend. I honestly begin to question if there will be something to stand on in the next step I choose. Maybe you know this feeling too? What happens when we get there, to that very dark time in life? I suppose I could just plop down on the trail and wait for sunrise. "No thank you! I'll just wait for things to get better." But we can't ever move ahead that way, can't accomplish what we set out to do, can we. Instead, when we get scared of the darkness of life, we can cling tightly to God knowing that He is the one that puts our paths in front of us and that the sun will indeed rise at some point. We can have confidence that we will not be left in the dark forever. But it is in the darkness that our faith and ability and the necessity to trust in a good and loving God can grow.
And when our faith grows, so can we. Which leads us to lesson number two: I'm stronger than I thought I was. And I'm stronger this time than last time.
Our first year out, we didn't know too much about climbing mountains. Sure we had done a few leisurely strolls through the likes of Yellowstone National Park and the Mines of Spain, but we were not mountain climbers. We weren't aware of proper equipment needed, the right clothing, good food for the journey, or proper physical conditioning. We just, well, we just went. And for whatever reason, that first year out, we decided to try something that you can only find in exactly one place in Colorado: a four peak combination hike. What that means is you hike up the side of one mountain, then you hike down a saddle a few hundred feet, then back up to the next peak, then down another saddle, up another peak, down another saddle, up another peak, then down the mountain side of a forth peak. And we just went. Looking back, I'm not really sure what we were thinking. There were times on that journey that my lungs burned so bad that I thought they might actually explode. My legs cried out for mercy, and I found myself wondering, "Um, why are we here again? Is this still fun? Can we go home now, please?" It was cold and windy and steep and that ten miles or so that made up the trail from end to end seemed like it would never end. I remember looking up along the trail in front of me and picking out one of the closest pile of rocks I could find and telling myself to just make it to that rock, then I could take another break. My dad was usually a few hundred feet in front of me, yelling to me to keep up. There were moments that I wasn't sure I could. But do you know what? I could, and I did. Together we made it through all four peaks and managed to do two other summits that same week. If I wouldn't have been tested with some really tough climbing that day, I would have never known how strong I really was.
Four years later, we're doing peaks that are far harder, believe it or not, than that four peak combo. We're doing steeper, longer journeys that require more knowledge and care and equipment. And over the years, we've acquired those things that we have needed to keep us safe and successful. Each year provides us with opportunities to gain strength and confidence through being pushed to what we think our limits are and surprising ourselves when we surpass them. And that, friends, is known as growth. When we're just walking on flat ground, our abilities, the true potential of our strength isn't really made known to us. All we know is that we can walk. But when we're called to do something tougher, like climbing a mountain or serving others or making the right choice in a difficult situation, only then can we find out what capabilities we've been given. And over time, when faced with numerous "mountains", whatever they may be in life, we grow. We get stronger. Some days, let's be honest, growth is no fun. Some days, it's like being on peak two of a four peak combo with thirty mile-per-hour winds whipping you in the face and going back or going forward are both the same torturous distance away. Some days growth is hard. But strangely, even though it's hard, I think few of us can argue that it is not also good. Gaining in wisdom and knowledge and strength and abilities are all good things and allow us to be God's presence in the world in whatever we're doing, but we only can really know the strength that has been given to us when we are pushed to the edge of what we even thought possible.
Last lesson for the day: the risk is worth the reward.
Lest we lose perspective here, I want to take this moment to let you know that climbing to 14,000-feet is hard! It's hard! The air is thin. I mean like suckin' wind every ten steps thin. It's high. Most people that are affected by altitude sickness begin to experience symptoms between 12,000 and 13,000 feet. That's where many people might find themselves with a headache or a bloody nose or worse. Yep, it's that high. The terrain is steep. It's rocky. It's sometimes unpredictable and dangerous. Add into that a few pounds of food and water and layers of clothing on your back, the potential for storms and wind and rain and snow, and of course the occasional wild animal encounter...it's no easy task, these hikes. So why do them? Why work so hard, train so long, risk life and limb just to hike up a big pile of rocks and then back down again? Well...this (these views) (pictures) might have something to do with it. I wish these photos did any justice at all to the beauty of this special place. But there is also just some sort of personal satisfaction that comes with the accomplishment of gaining the strength to be able to climb like this, of growing physically, mentally, spiritually. You see, I feel like I've been given this gift in life, this deep desire to climb these mountains, to get to the top, to experience the wild of it all, and to experience God in it all. And to me, the reward is worth the risk every time.
We have been given a great gift, too, you and I, far greater than a few mountain views. We've been given the great gift of salvation by a loving God. But when we accept it, life doesn't suddenly look all smooth and even just because we said yes to the gift. When we accept in our hearts the gift that God offers us, we are not guaranteed that the risks of life disappear. Life is still hard. Trails are still steep, and sometimes they're dark, but we can have confidence in the reward that awaits us in the end. So it becomes worth every trial, every struggle, to live into the life that God has gifted us.
I want to share with you a brief word out of Hebrews, chapter 10, verses 35 and 36 that goes like this: "Therefore do not throw away your confidence, which has a great reward. For you have need of endurance, so that when you have done the will of God you may receive what is promised." Now, I'm no Bible scholar, and I'm not sure I can do this, but hey, I already made clearly known that I'm no preacher, and I think that maybe that gives me some liberties here. You see, to me, this verse sounds a little bit more like this: Friends, do not throw away your confidence, which has a great reward. Even when you have to walk in the dark, have confidence that God puts ground beneath your feet. Keep pushing ahead. For you have need of endurance, and you will gain that endurance with every step you take, every challenge you overcome, every mountain that you climb, you will grow so that you can do the will of God and you may receive what is promised. And trust me, the risks that you'll encounter along the way, each of them will be worth the promises you will receive in the end.
---
Five years ago or so, my dad and I had a crazy idea. We wanted to take a vacation, just he and I to do a little hiking. But we decided that it couldn't be just any hiking. No, we decided that we would climb 14,000-foot peaks in Colorado. With 58 14ers in the state of Colorado, we had quite a goal in front of us to climb as many of them as we could in our lifetime. And now, each summer, we load up the truck and take a road trip to hike for a week or so together. As of this past July, we've conquered a few of them...okay, 21 summits together. With those 21 summits, we've hiked 149.5 total miles while gaining 63,750 total feet in elevation (or 127,500 feet of total elevation change), all in a matter of 16 total days of hiking. To give you some perspective of what climbing 14ers is like, usually the hikes we attempt are between six and eighteen miles long round trip and gain anywhere from 2,000 to 6,000 feet from trailhead to summit. Usually there are trails to follow, but not always. And we usually plan between six and twelve hours to complete one peak. So this is not ropes and helmets and ice picks climbing, but it's no walk in the woods either.
It's been an incredible and indescribable journey so far, and along the way, I've learned a thing or two about technical hiking and scrambling as well as the proper equipment and fitness required for such a hobby, but I've learned so much more about God, life, my dad, and myself in the process. There's just something about the wilderness...there's a silence out there, without all of the buzzing and noise of normal life, and it just seems like conversations have freedom to roam where they otherwise might not, and the thoughts and prayers in my head and heart seem almost crystal clear, and there's just something about the experience that creates countless opportunities to grow.
Now please keep in mind as we get started here that I'm no preacher, so this is not really a sermon as much as just a few reflections and lessons learned from an adventure loving girl learning about life while living on the edge.
The first lesson I'm going to share today is one of the most recent and freshest, most vivid memories I have from this past summer. And that is, sometimes, friends, it can be dark!
Summer afternoons in the Colorado mountains are, if nothing else, predictably unpredictable. You can count on most afternoons to be wrought with thunderstorms, perhaps with sleet and hail, and probably lots of lightning. In order to avoid being the only lightning rod for miles up there above the treeline, hikers need to plan to be heading down off of a summit by about noon each day. Now I will confess to having left more than one comfy warm hotel room bed at the very uncomfortable hour of 2:45 am or so to drive some nasty mountain pass to a trailhead and get ready to hike by 4:00 or 5:00 am. And in case you aren't all that familiar with that time of day, it is dark!
On one particular morning this past summer, we were at the trailhead, ready to climb by about 4:15 am, knowing we had a very long and difficult hike in front of us. After fumbling around the frigid parking lot for a few minutes trying to stuff last minute gear into our packs, which is by the way my least favorite part of each hike, we took off up the trail with flashlights in hand. Now, I'm not afraid of the dark per se, but there have been very few circumstances in my life in which I have experienced such total and utter darkness as this particular morning.We had to hike for nearly an hour and a half like this before the sun gave any indication that it wanted to rise. My eyes were constantly trying to strain just beyond the flashlight edges, looking for anything beyond the tiny bit of light I had with me. I could hear flowing water on one side of me, but I didn't know if it was a stream right near the trail or if it was a hundred foot cliff to the water below. And I can't tell you how many rocks and roots I tripped and stumbled over as we went. Every step became a challenge because I honestly began to doubt that the ground would continue to be underneath my next step.
To me, this was actually strangely familiar because it represented how I sometimes felt in life. In times of trials or struggles, I find myself beginning to beg God to show me more than I can see. I strain to try to understand what is beyond what I can comprehend. I honestly begin to question if there will be something to stand on in the next step I choose. Maybe you know this feeling too? What happens when we get there, to that very dark time in life? I suppose I could just plop down on the trail and wait for sunrise. "No thank you! I'll just wait for things to get better." But we can't ever move ahead that way, can't accomplish what we set out to do, can we. Instead, when we get scared of the darkness of life, we can cling tightly to God knowing that He is the one that puts our paths in front of us and that the sun will indeed rise at some point. We can have confidence that we will not be left in the dark forever. But it is in the darkness that our faith and ability and the necessity to trust in a good and loving God can grow.
And when our faith grows, so can we. Which leads us to lesson number two: I'm stronger than I thought I was. And I'm stronger this time than last time.
Our first year out, we didn't know too much about climbing mountains. Sure we had done a few leisurely strolls through the likes of Yellowstone National Park and the Mines of Spain, but we were not mountain climbers. We weren't aware of proper equipment needed, the right clothing, good food for the journey, or proper physical conditioning. We just, well, we just went. And for whatever reason, that first year out, we decided to try something that you can only find in exactly one place in Colorado: a four peak combination hike. What that means is you hike up the side of one mountain, then you hike down a saddle a few hundred feet, then back up to the next peak, then down another saddle, up another peak, down another saddle, up another peak, then down the mountain side of a forth peak. And we just went. Looking back, I'm not really sure what we were thinking. There were times on that journey that my lungs burned so bad that I thought they might actually explode. My legs cried out for mercy, and I found myself wondering, "Um, why are we here again? Is this still fun? Can we go home now, please?" It was cold and windy and steep and that ten miles or so that made up the trail from end to end seemed like it would never end. I remember looking up along the trail in front of me and picking out one of the closest pile of rocks I could find and telling myself to just make it to that rock, then I could take another break. My dad was usually a few hundred feet in front of me, yelling to me to keep up. There were moments that I wasn't sure I could. But do you know what? I could, and I did. Together we made it through all four peaks and managed to do two other summits that same week. If I wouldn't have been tested with some really tough climbing that day, I would have never known how strong I really was.
Four years later, we're doing peaks that are far harder, believe it or not, than that four peak combo. We're doing steeper, longer journeys that require more knowledge and care and equipment. And over the years, we've acquired those things that we have needed to keep us safe and successful. Each year provides us with opportunities to gain strength and confidence through being pushed to what we think our limits are and surprising ourselves when we surpass them. And that, friends, is known as growth. When we're just walking on flat ground, our abilities, the true potential of our strength isn't really made known to us. All we know is that we can walk. But when we're called to do something tougher, like climbing a mountain or serving others or making the right choice in a difficult situation, only then can we find out what capabilities we've been given. And over time, when faced with numerous "mountains", whatever they may be in life, we grow. We get stronger. Some days, let's be honest, growth is no fun. Some days, it's like being on peak two of a four peak combo with thirty mile-per-hour winds whipping you in the face and going back or going forward are both the same torturous distance away. Some days growth is hard. But strangely, even though it's hard, I think few of us can argue that it is not also good. Gaining in wisdom and knowledge and strength and abilities are all good things and allow us to be God's presence in the world in whatever we're doing, but we only can really know the strength that has been given to us when we are pushed to the edge of what we even thought possible.
Last lesson for the day: the risk is worth the reward.
Lest we lose perspective here, I want to take this moment to let you know that climbing to 14,000-feet is hard! It's hard! The air is thin. I mean like suckin' wind every ten steps thin. It's high. Most people that are affected by altitude sickness begin to experience symptoms between 12,000 and 13,000 feet. That's where many people might find themselves with a headache or a bloody nose or worse. Yep, it's that high. The terrain is steep. It's rocky. It's sometimes unpredictable and dangerous. Add into that a few pounds of food and water and layers of clothing on your back, the potential for storms and wind and rain and snow, and of course the occasional wild animal encounter...it's no easy task, these hikes. So why do them? Why work so hard, train so long, risk life and limb just to hike up a big pile of rocks and then back down again? Well...this (these views) (pictures) might have something to do with it. I wish these photos did any justice at all to the beauty of this special place. But there is also just some sort of personal satisfaction that comes with the accomplishment of gaining the strength to be able to climb like this, of growing physically, mentally, spiritually. You see, I feel like I've been given this gift in life, this deep desire to climb these mountains, to get to the top, to experience the wild of it all, and to experience God in it all. And to me, the reward is worth the risk every time.
We have been given a great gift, too, you and I, far greater than a few mountain views. We've been given the great gift of salvation by a loving God. But when we accept it, life doesn't suddenly look all smooth and even just because we said yes to the gift. When we accept in our hearts the gift that God offers us, we are not guaranteed that the risks of life disappear. Life is still hard. Trails are still steep, and sometimes they're dark, but we can have confidence in the reward that awaits us in the end. So it becomes worth every trial, every struggle, to live into the life that God has gifted us.
I want to share with you a brief word out of Hebrews, chapter 10, verses 35 and 36 that goes like this: "Therefore do not throw away your confidence, which has a great reward. For you have need of endurance, so that when you have done the will of God you may receive what is promised." Now, I'm no Bible scholar, and I'm not sure I can do this, but hey, I already made clearly known that I'm no preacher, and I think that maybe that gives me some liberties here. You see, to me, this verse sounds a little bit more like this: Friends, do not throw away your confidence, which has a great reward. Even when you have to walk in the dark, have confidence that God puts ground beneath your feet. Keep pushing ahead. For you have need of endurance, and you will gain that endurance with every step you take, every challenge you overcome, every mountain that you climb, you will grow so that you can do the will of God and you may receive what is promised. And trust me, the risks that you'll encounter along the way, each of them will be worth the promises you will receive in the end.
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