Afterglow

"You are a very tall family" the lady behind the counter remarked. She then proceeded to tell me about a place where I can get custom clothing for tall women. I internally chuckled because, though I'm 6' tall, people rarely remark about my height; not to say they don't notice that I stand out like a giraffe in New York City, but they simply don't remark about it too much. When I'm with my boy bookends (particularly Madigan and Declan at present), the input is free flowing. When I was a young girl growing into adulthood, being tall was so incredibly difficult. My twin and I STRUGGLED and I am so thankful we had each other through that challenging season. Pushing 6' as a 9th grader is a tough role for a girl because most of the young men in our sphere of friends had not reached their full height yet. To be the tree(s) obnoxiously standing out on the cliff edge didn't conform to my profound desire to blend in as an awkward and incredibly gangly teen. And now, these many years later, standing next to my 6'3" and 6'2" boys, I marvel. My height doesn't bother me anymore and I certainly don't stand out like I used to. I love the way they carry their height because frankly they have the heart to match their incredible stature. As they get taller, which I'm sure they will, their height will only attempt to keep up as the embodiment of their internal strength and magnificent personhood. 

We did some more training this week for a hike we're going to take down the Grand Canyon near the end of December. We hiked 30 miles this past week, taking on O'Learys Peak twice; I find it to be a tedious trail with seemingly endless switchbacks to gain 2000 feet in elevation. I'm annoyed by it and yet cannot deny that it is an effective training trail. It has been fun to watch the boys rise to the challenge and bite off training for another adventure. We mostly have fun out there and even Lochlan is learning how to push himself past general comfort at times. 

It's a world full of hurt, frustration and imperfection, and yet I see the afterglow of Creation in all that is around me. So much I have been given... and in these things I find the fullness of life. 

 

Some lessons are painful

 Recently, Lochlan went missing on a trail hike he was on with a friend of ours. He sometimes bursts with energy and takes off at a gallop, no matter the technicality or elevation gain of a trail. My most serious concern on this particular trail system was that he might become confused about all the adjoining trails and ultimately lose his way back to the car, even though this is a trail he is familiar with. However, we all spread out to find each of those intersections and we did indeed find him at one of them, clearly debating which path to choose. He was completely unconcerned about the fact that he was solo hiking at the point and he wasn't worried about whether he might not know the way. 

{Lochlan will be wearing a GPS device on all hikes now}

I've been considering this incident a lot; it is representative of so much. With Lochlan, I've been searching, hunting for answers, desperately trying to find the path (forward) where he can be found, feeling incredibly lost in the process, rabidly fighting fear, not knowing where to look, wondering, waiting, running, hoping, and trying to remember to breathe. The search feels endless, the mountain(s) daunting. 

And, simultaneously, I wonder in my own life, in my own walk of faith, of living, am I so often like Lochlan, running the trail ahead of me in oblivion to all that I'm missing as I carry onward, not realizing I'm alone when I don't have to be? Am I approaching the crossroads without careful consideration, without the input and perspective of others who might well know better the path forward? 

I'm responsible to train up these young men to be all they can be. Yet, I find they are the ones training me in the way(s) they live their lives, in the fullness of their compassion, through the kindness in their hearts, through the challenges they face and conquer. I also find myself learning through the incredibly difficult things we encounter together, like the hunt for our missing wanderer. 

Tomorrow's mountain paths may be familiar, or they may be new and require something we don't yet know we have. 

I literally don't have a title

 

The miles I've traveled... the miles yet to go; they are a gift, a treasure. I have almost 300,000 miles on this old truck and yet when I go to start if each morning, it never fails me. I know it will age out someday, but not this day. This adventure mobile has been such a gift to me and it has carried me from one beautiful memory to another. When I reflect back upon even just the last two weeks, I find a thousand moments, memories I want to hold onto and savor. 

The blessing of family: parents, siblings, cousins, aunts, uncles and adopted family. None of us get to see each other enough, so when we are afforded the opportunity to do so, I find myself holding each minute carefully.

I awoke this morning with the to-do list for today/this week/this month pressing down upon me. It's still dark outside, though the sky isn't as dark as it was 10 minutes ago. If I could just set aside sleep for a month or so, perhaps I could get a better handle on all that I am behind on. I find that when the cabinet breaks, the stairs crack, the weather stripping comes loose, the fence post breaks, the roof leaks and the disposal gets jammed with another Lego, I feel the burden of those relatively small things as far heavier than it should be. I have many miles to go before I sleep - the sleep I wish I could avoid. Life, at a full gallop, is too fleeting; so, I have no choice but to let the beautiful minutes pass, but I will not let them fade.