Hiking as an object lesson....Part I

I am a recovering quitter.  When my plate gets not only too full, but too chaotic, something’s gotta go, so I have had a history of just shoving the entire thing away for some peace, quiet, and sanity.  Of course, the Lord has been working on me through the years, albeit through some not-so-fun methods like the torture of hiking.    I am not a big fan of hiking, so I have a couple of hiking stories to share with you to illustrate my point because the Lord has used these as object lessons many times through the years. (Can’t we do something instead, like a cheesecake eating marathon?)

Hiking fun story #1: The Smoky Mountains

When my husband (Marty) and I were first married, we decided to head down to Gatlinburg, TN, for a vacation.  I love that area.  The Smokies are smokin’ pretty!  Marty wanted to go for a hike and over-nighter in the area.  I dreaded it.  I worked in an office full time and was not in any shape for that.  However, I did it without voicing my objections because we had just attended a marriage conference the year prior where we were advised to do things our spouse wants just to let him/her enjoy something.  Marty is a hiking/outdoors-y fanatic.  Let’s say that the joy of hiking for him can be compared to the same joy I get by watching a well-executed Nutcracker ballet with girlfriends:  ethereal and sublime. 

We went to a hiking store in town called The Happy Hiker (an oxymoron for me) to get advice on the best trails and to pick up some yummy supplies, like dried up eggs.  I made it abundantly clear that our route meet the following criteria:  by a stream, not too strenuous, water close by at the camp site, and a view at the top.  The guy at the store promised all of these things.  Good.  Let’s get this over wi--- I mean, have some fun!

When we started out we were perky, energetic, and freshly showered. In the pictures below, note the large, heavy, 600 lb. backpack I was not accustomed to carrying on my person.  (I suppose I could have prepared by carrying it around the office wearing my high heels and EDS standard-issue blue suit.)  Note my brand spanking new, en vogue waffle-stompers that had not been broken in but were stiff and unyielding.   (And garsh, ain't my man a looker?) 

We walked up hill the entire time.  It was hot.  It was buggy.  Yes, we were by a stream, and that helped.  We even got some nice pictures.  But it was hot, buggy, and uphill.  After several hours of this, I was exhausted.  We had no idea how far we were from our goal, and I had had enough.  The plate was full. I sat down on a log and started to cry (yes, whiny baby cry.)  Some other hikers were coming down the trail and as they passed, I asked them if there was a McDonalds up there.  No one was amused.  I'm thinking they were all lobotomy patients.  Anyhoo, my feet were blistered and swollen. I was dirty and sweaty.

Marty told me we couldn’t be that far from our goal, ordered me to set down my backpack, and promised that he would come back after it.  After some objections from me about him having to come back to retrieve it, I relented.  Guess what?  Just around the bend was the site.  No view.  No place to pitch a tent for all the large boulders in the area.  The water was down a 15 foot drop - which meant there was no way to make those delicious, reconstituted eggs.  

As we sat and assessed our situation, I made the ignorant mistake of removing my boots and socks.  (In order to fully appreciate this, harken back to the movie “Planes, Trains, and Automobiles” and the scene on the airplane when Del Griffith – a.k.a. John Candy - removes his shoes  and socks and tells Steve Martin his dogs were barkin’.  If you haven’t seen the movie, go no further in life until you do.)  While I did so, I prayed silently and fervently that Marty would change his mind and decide to leave.  Marty evaluated our surroundings and saw that there was nothing we could do there.  He asked me what I wanted to do.  (Thank you, God!  THANK YOU, GOD!!)  I said, “Really, if you’re asking, I would like to hike on out of here, take a shower, go for steak and a baked potato with sour cream, a dip in a pool, and settle into a nice, soft bed."  He agreed.  The heavens opened and angels descended right there.

I then had to squeeze my bloated, untaped (huge lesson right here), blistered feet back into my boots.  Five hours up the mountain.  Three hours back down.  I pounded it down to get out as fast as I could.  

Before and after:

The steak and potatoes were delicious, the pool refreshing, and the bed heavenly.   Hiking is fun!

My Scripture for today, if I were to have written it, would read like this:  "Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, when you face cheesecake of various kinds, knowing that the testing of your taste buds produces endurance..."  James 1:2

Next: Part II – The Quitter Hikes in the Tetons (This is where the lessons really kick in.  You know:  the ones that have nothing to do with cheesecake.)