It's On You - Mountain Chronicles II

"Strength." - Shade's answer to the pre-trip question, "What are we going to the mountain to learn?"

 

"Push through." - Shade's answer to the question, "What are you going to do when it gets hard?"

 

 "I will cheer for you, I'll encourage you, I'll go with you, I'll lead you, I'll serve you, I'll take some of your load, but the largest part of this climb is yours...and I can't help you with it." - Yours Truly, with some coaching from my friend Keith, to my son, Shade, on our first day's hike 

 

Something in me is crying as I begin writing this one...I'm not sure why.

 

Maybe it's because the lesson from this part of the trip is so good, but scary. So necessary, so true, but sometimes I just wish it wasn't.

 

Maybe it's because I still haven't totally learned this one, and don't want to.

 

Let me start by saying that sometimes it is my good heart that hurts my kids. It is my deep love...my willingness to do anything for them...that could end up handicapping them. Limiting them. Holding them back in a childhood that is not supposed to last forever. I don't mean to do this. I have full intentions of intentionally helping my kids grow up. I'm not pushing it, mind you. On the contrary, I love them as children, but sometimes I can feel myself loving them as children so much that I wouldn't mind them staying there. Or, at least, my desire to be a "good and loving dad" makes me help them (or bail them out) a little too much.

 

Okay, moving on...

 

Shade crossed the bridge over the wide and fast-moving Upper Animas River with enthusiasm and a bounce in his step. We had a half-mile hike back down river to a trail that started going up (and up and up) that followed along the beautiful Needle Creek (one of those "whoa...look at that!" creeks that tempts you to stop around every corner and gaze on it's flow, it's waterfalls, its nooks and crannies). We began this trek at over 7000 feet, and were going to go steadily up (meaning, less oxygen in the air) and far (meaning, we will spend all day doing this). Within the first mile, the glamour, excitement, and romanticism of this trip was quickly overcome by the harsh realities around us, and the plan before us.

 

Shade didn't blatantly want out, but he sure wanted it easier than it was.

 

He started complaining about his feet, and his knees, and how "he can't breathe" and that his pack was too heavy. We took regular breaks, which quickly became his favorite part of the climb (can't blame him there, it was quickly becoming mine too!). I was right with him every step, and started feeling like I might have been a little over-zealous about how much weight he was carrying. He's a 60 pound kid and he was carrying about 19 pounds. Keith and I split about 9 pounds of that (thinking about the idea that none of us were carrying 1/3rd of our body weight). But still, despite all my pre-trip warnings and preparations about the difficulty of this first day, Shade was struggling with having to endure it. Where is the fun in this?

 

Pause. A few weeks earlier, my wife had a bunch of girls over in our living room late one Wednesday night. Shade and I were in there enjoying their company when he pulled a first. He said, "Dad, can I talk with you privately?"

 

"Sure," I said, as I went with him into the other room. He was wanting to confess something, and as it came out of him, I could see he was looking for reassurance, motivation, and courage.

 

He began..."I'm real excited about our trip to the mountain. Except for one part of it that is making me nervous. That first day that you say is going to be so hard."

 

I nodded. "Yeah, me too, Shade. It's going to be a tough day. But you remember when we were praying together, asking God about why He had us going on this trip? About what He wanted you to learn? What gift He wanted to give you?"

 

"Strength," Shade replied.

 

"Yeah...strength," I said. "And I think that's why He's sending us to this mountain. Because He needs us to have that first day. A day that's hard, that will make you need strength in order to succeed."

 

I filled with pride that this was enough for Shade. He nodded, and said with a snap of optimism and acceptance in his voice, "yeah...okay." Then he went on back to socializing.

 

Before I get back to the story, it's probably important for me to tell you that, while I would not have been able to identify this at the time, I believe that I was secretly thinking that if worse came to worse, I would be able to be Shade's strength...which now I know was really cheapening what God was setting up, not to mention vastly overestimating the strength I would have on this trip.

 

Okay...so Keith and Zach are plodding along really consistently and strong, and Shade and I are moving really slow because of Shade's complaints and pain, and our way-to-frequent stops. It was getting tough on both of us, but praise God I wasn't getting impatient, crystal clear on the fact that this is why we were there. So I asked Shade to look at me in the eyes, and mustering my best loving-but-firm-and-confident look, I said, "Buddy...we are going all the way. We are going to hike all day until we get to our campsite. And you are going to carry that (I pointed at it) backpack. So you can decide if you want to use your energy trying to change that, or use your energy accomplishing that."

 

I loved him as he looked in my eyes and measured what I was saying. I loved him. My love exploded for him (and I already love him so much, I didn't think that was possible). I wanted to take back what I said out of love. I wanted to attach his pack to mine. I wanted to say, "If you can't make it all the way on your own, don't worry, I'll carry you." But I didn't. I just looked at him in the eyes as he was deciding whether he could adjust to what I was saying as the unchangeable truth. And I loved him. And I would love him no matter what he decided in that moment.

 

Pause again. It really, REALLY helped me knowing that God told me to bring Shade to this mountain. See, there are other mountains we could've climbed that didn't require such a long hike, nor such a steep ascent. If it were on me, I would've chosen a much different place...less challenging. I can't tell you how many times I wanted to relieve his pain (and mine) by changing the plan, taking care of him, going down early, etc... But I kept going back to that other mountain months ago, where I heard God say, "Go back. Take Shade." Seriously...if I weren't convicted that this was from God, I wouldn't have had the strength myself to demand that he push through.

 

So just like back in the living room, only this time with much more difficulty (because he was in the midst of his pain), Shade said, "yeah...okay". Then he went back to climbing.

 

From this point on (for the rest of this hike, but also for the rest of the week), Shade got better and better. And by that, I mean that he accepted the difficulties inherent in this trip more and more readily. He got stronger and stronger. My son pushed through.

 

I can write that now, but I wouldn't really acknowledge this on the trip...too afraid that I was just being a little too optimistic about this, just seeing what I wanted to see so desperately. But without any prompting from me, as we were driving home, Keith busted out with the statement, "I feel like Shade just kept getting better and better as the week went on. He started out struggling, but just kept doing better." This was one of the many gifts that I feel like God gave to me by having Keith and Zach join us on this trip (there were countless). I contained it in the car, but my heart leapt right through the roof! I wanted to blow up with a freakin' excited, glad-to-be-affirmed yell of victory, "I DID TOO!!!!!"  

 

Shade didn't have to get better and better for this trip to have been excellent. Shade didn't have to exhibit strength, stop complaining, or make it through the hike that day without more help from me for me to love him.I just love him. And I love helping him. And I love him feeling helped.

 

But I loved helping him in this way, too. In this way where he seems to be learning that he has a reservoir of strength to pull from when things get hard. Strength that will help him achieve things that he starts out thinking might be too hard. Strength, not from me, but from God.

 

About a month or two before our trip, a real special friend named Pam called me having had a recurring dream that she felt like she was supposed to tell me about. She said, "I could see you and Shade going up on that mountain you're going to. It had some sort of relation to Abraham and Isaac. It was the identical dream two nights in a row. And I had the distinct feeling that Shade is going to get something from God up there that has nothing to do with you."

 

I smiled huge when she told me this. This would be my dream, I thought, and I instantly prayed that God would please make it so. I thought of all the students I've known and loved as they were trying to "attain their own faith" (rather than feel like it was just their parent's idea for them) for over 14 years (not to mention remembering my own transition into my own faith). And so for Shade to be getting special "things" from the Father, at such a young age, that had nothing to do with his dad on earth would be worth the world to me.

 

Dear Father...In the name of Christ, give my kids a relationship with You that has nothing to do with me. The sooner the better, Father. Thank You for letting me be in their lives.

Witnesses - The Mountain Chronicles I

"Then the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain where Jesus had told them to go. When they saw him, they worshiped him; but some doubted." - Matthew 28:16-17

"What have we gotten ourselves into?" - Keith, as we crossed the suspended bridge over the raging Animas River with our young sons, to the the trailhead leading into the wild

For those just picking up on the story, I just returned from a much anticipated backpacking trip with my 8-year-old son Shade in the Weminuche Wilderness just Northeast of Durango, Colorado. This whole trip was in response to what I felt was God's invitation and direction to go on it...so the journey was full of all the excitement and doubt, anticipation and fear that comes along with the idea that you are "following God". We had a difficult and great time.

Our fellow father-son duo, Keith & Zach (9) from Houston, arrived in Amarillo on Saturday, and after attending church with us Sunday morning, we all four packed into Keith's Corolla, drove 8-9 hours to Durango, Colorado, checked into the Holiday Inn Express that my wife booked for us through Priceline, and got our last night of sleep in a bed.

We were up early the next morning, and after breakfast, went down by the lower Animas River (that our hotel was settled next to). We had explored it briefly the night before, so we revisited a hole in the large fence along the riverwalk that allowed us right down by the water (where we found the raw material for some perfect hiking staffs for our boys, by the way). We began this long-awaited morning by sharing with the boys a story from the Bible in Exodus -- about Moses meeting God on a mountain, calling him to take a dangerous, difficult journey -- one that Moses saw as too difficult and gave God several excuses as to why Moses shouldn't do it. All of them boiled down to Moses thinking this journey was going to be too hard for him.

"What should Moses do here, and on his journey, when it gets hard?" we asked our boys.

"Push through," they said. We've all been talking about this trip for a few months now...ever since Keith and I were together on that other mountain in Colorado and felt like God called us to take our sons to this one...so they both knew the "right answer". They said it like they were in Bible class, knowing that the Sunday School Teacher wanted them to answer correctly, satisfied and proud that they did, but sortof unattached to it's implications, unaware of how personally it would apply to them in just a few hours.

And so now, we delivered our brief words of guidance, and warning. "When we get off that train (the Durango Silverton Narrow Gauge Steam Engine that would deliver us to our trailhead in the wilderness), we are going to have a long, uphill journey with heavy packs. It's going to get hard...so all day long, we want you to be asking yourself, each other, and God...'what will I do when it gets hard?'"

We prayed and headed for the station. It was very exciting. There are mostly tourists on this train (the ride alone is worth the trip) and it was sort of cool being decked out in our mountain gear, hoisting our packs onto the freight car, and finding our seats while looking a tad less civilized than the rest of the hundreds of passengers.

The train trip was beautiful and fantastic, like a step back in time. This train has been used in dozens of movies because of it's age (over 100 years old) and it's setting (right through the mountains along the Animas River). After exploring every train car multiple times, Shade came back and settled down with me in our seats, and we entered into an anxious silence, staring at the beauty out the window, knowing that our time in this comfortable seat with the access to cushions, bathrooms, and concession cars was about to be over.

2-1/2 hours later, as we approached our stop where we would be left behind in the wilderness with only our packs and each other, we all took advantage of the on-train facilities to have one last sit down on an actual toilet...since our next experience would be on the edge of a rock or squatting over a hole we dug. (Excuse my being graphic, but this is a major part of multiple-day backpacking. Scores and scores of people (not just women) will never lay eyes on what my 8-year-old son saw because they are unwilling to endure this very thing.)

The conductor came and retrieved us. We were about to stop.

As we walked from the back of the train to the front, past all the people in each train car, we heard whispers and utterances of astonishment and wonder: "They're getting off!". Keith pointed out the whispering and stares of awe by saying, "This is cool," and I smiled...I couldn't help but think of the pride that might be swelling up in our sons as they experienced the "stares of respect" as they walked into their mixture of excitement and fear preparing to finally get off the train and don their loads and start the brutal 3000 ft ascent over 6 miles.

I think every boy (and man) needs moments like this. Moments where he walks courageously into fear, into some sort of danger or adventure, into the wild, if you will, where he will be without all of his "climate controls" and totally exposed "to the elements"...but to have WITNESSES of it, well that is something special. Something gets cemented into the masculine heart when this happens...when you walk away from the herd, and they watch...sometimes in awe, sometimes thinking your crazy, sometimes inspiring someone to do the same, some scoffing at the sincerity with which you do so, or maybe something else, but they do watch. I think this cementing in a boy's heart needs to happen repeatedly (and dad's do well to both set this up for, invite, and be witnesses of it for their boys). Part of being a man, I'm convinced, is being a pioneer of some sort. Bold, brave, courageous...not without fear, of course...but capable of facing it, walking into it, come what may. Of course, we need to be able to do it without witnesses, as a matter of our integrity and inner character...but when there are witnesses, something gets cemented. Developed.

Just another thing convincing me of our need for community in this life.

Charles Mackay said: “Men, it has been well said, think and operate in herds; it will be seen that they go totally mad and even commit suicide in herds, while they only recover their senses slowly, and one by one.”

There is so much more to say, but this quote resonated with me after I got home...I felt a sense of clarity again after this experience. A "recovering of my senses." It was good that we were leaving the herd on the train, and it was good that my 8 year old was learning to do it so early. I pray God cements it into him, and allows him to develop the character that enables him to do so in every relationship, every circumstance, every opportunity and every challenge in life.

And I hope God does the same in Shade's dad.

More to come.