A Mountain Top Experience

I have never had the pleasure of snow skiing. Because I am afraid of heights, I have never felt the need to strap a couple of sticks of wood to my feet and be drug up some mountain side on a rickety little 'lift', only to be dropped at the top, then propelled through the cold and snow to the bottom. The thought has just never appealed to me. Call me crazy!

My mother, however, thought at one point in her life that this might be a good idea. I don't know if she really wanted to, or if my Dad conned her into it somehow. My mother is not known to be a big risk taker, so I can't imagine it was her idea. Maybe the allure of the scenic Colorado pictures was just too overwhelming for her. Over the years, she has told us the story of her one big skiing experience.

It seems she actually went through all of the procedures to allow her to GET to the the top of the mountain. She donned the gear. She took the mini course to instruct her how NOT to hit a tree at blinding speed. She knew the basics, climbed aboard the lift and got to the top.... and did so while looking particularly stylish in her 70's snow bunny garb.

Once there, however, she discovered she was too frightened to actually launch herself down the side of the mountain. She tells of how embarrassed she was by the precocious children who had attended the instructional class with her. They had all caught on and raced with confidence past her as they hurled themselves headlong to the bottom, somehow avoiding trees and other obstacles (like my mother who was frozen with fear!)

She said her salvation came in the form of a snow conditioning truck. It was this vehicle's job to go down the mountain and prepare the snow for safer skiing. My mother got behind it, pointed her toes inward so she STAYED behind it , and followed it down the mountain to safety. She knew she had to follow that truck. She knew that with her limited talent in skiing, if she were to have strayed from the path it had prepared, she would be doomed.

Isn't our walk with Christ like that? We know so little, He knows so much. Why would we want to be anywhere but right behind Him, following Him to the safety of the eternal lodge....complete with roaring fire, snugly blanket, hot cocoa and marshmallows? Why stray from the path only to meet with icy spots and trees and maybe an occasional rabid raccoon? Focus on His taillights and He will take you right where you need to be!

The Payoff

My brother does not understand my love for horses. We own 4 at our farm and sees me spending hours in the stall, up to my knees in unmentionable filth. He sees the bruises where these large animals inadvertently step on me and bump me. He sees me sweat as I haul water, move hay, stack bedding , unload feed and do the countless other tasks it takes to care for them. He knows it is hard for me to get to the farm at times to do chores amid my work hours and the time I must spend with my children and family. He knows the financial obligation they take and he chides me about not being able to ride them much. He sees the riding as the pay off for the work. Since we were young we have not seen eye to eye on this issue.

In the same regard, I do not understand his desire to hunt. I can't see spending thousands of dollars and hundreds of hours sitting precariously perched in a tree in the freezing cold weather to murder a helpless, beautiful animal. I don't understand why he showers in 'earth scent' and camouflages himself in the silliest of attire to be able to hang a boiled, bleached head on his wall at the end of the season. He claims the trophy buck is an ample payoff for all of the time and effort.

What he doesn't see about the horses, and I refuse to see about the hunting, is that its not about the activity itself. Its about everything that goes with it. With my horses, it is a way to bond with my daughter. It stirs up memories of times with my Dad in the horse barn when I was young. It is about teaching responsibility and putting another's needs before our own. It is about commitment and respect. It is about the laughter we share as we haul manure and ride the old John Deere. It is about the anticipation of the birth of new foals in the spring.

This past spring, the horses became a lesson in life and death. We had an orphan foal that we tried to save. Bob ( I know- silly name for a horse- but it really worked for us!) taught my children compassion. In the wee hours of the night, as I lay in the straw with him, gently inserting a feeding tube into his little nostril, he taught me to cry again after an emotional drought. His weak greeting as I entered his pen gave me hope. His perseverance showed me strength. The loss of him made us all experience grief and opened doors of conversation we might otherwise not have had.

My brother tries to explain his love of hunting is about communing with nature. It is about seeing life in its most basic elements. It is about quiet time to reflect. It is his solace in a dark time. It is his celebration in the good times. The stillness of the woods calms him in the chaos of his life. There, more than anywhere, he can feel close to God. Slaying the animal is secondary to the experience.

I feel this way about my church. So often, I put in a lot of long, hard hours doing 'Godly' duties. I spend a lot of time connecting with my congregation and trying to be a productive member of that family. All of that work is secondary to the things I take away from the experience of being a part of that community. My children learn invaluable lessons. I am supported and encouraged in my life and my endeavors. I am helped along a path where my rewards are not tangible, but ethereal.

I will continue to tease my brother about his hunting, and I'm pretty sure he will never let up on me about my 'stupid horses', but I'm also pretty sure we understand each other much better than we will ever let each other know. Maybe someday, he will make the connection and realize that with church, its all about the ultimate payoff.....heaven!

Speedbumps

How many of us hate speedbumps? I'm a lot safer in my driving that I used to be, but I still like to race across a parking lot if I know there is no one in my way and there's a great spot right up front. My kids chant, "Parking Karma. Parking Karma." as we approach and beat out all of the other cautious drivers. My vehicle isn't really very happy with me though when I inadvertently hit a speedbump. My 1998 Dodge Durango with 140,000 miles on it complains like a geriatric with advanced arthritis when it is stopped short by those annoying concrete half-tubes designed to ensure the safety of the pedestrians in the area. I don't like them. They could damage my vehicle of advanced age (like denting my grill on an old lady is any better!) They are there to warn us. They are there to let us know that the possibility of collision may occur.

I often wonder what purpose my husband has in my life. He's not as ambitious as I am. I tend to be driven (or continually in overdrive if we are going to continue with the car analogy!) He is not. I have often affectionately referred to him as 'my little speedbump'. He slows me down. It annoys me. I have told him MANY times, but he isn't changing his ways, so in order to get along, I try to change mine.

This is not easy. I am someone who sees every little thing that needs to be done and I want it done....YESTERDAY!! I don't want something in the way, hindering my progress. I would like help, but if I can't get it, I would at least like to work at break neck speed and race wildly about. Of course, in my flurry of activity, I tend to get irritable. I run the risk of colliding with my family....both mentally, physically and emotionally. I yell more. I parent recklessly. My health suffers.

God calls us to be still at times. How do you do that when there is a stack of laundry that is growing legs and transporting itself to the laundry room, a mountain of dishes that could become a science experiment, vacuuming that could produce enough hair to spawn another pet, homework to help with and dusting (did I say dusting? I haven't dusted in years, as evidenced by the 'dust rhinos' under my furniture and my hairy ceiling fans!) With that whole Proverbs 31 thing hanging over my head, it's amazing I find the time to bathe daily and not become a candidate for the psych ward.

John ensures that I DO sit still at times. He makes me slow down and ease myself over him as he lounges on the couch of our insanely small home. His 6'4'' lanky frame can extend from where he is sitting all the way to the TV stand, so he creates a physical speedbump in our living room (which is central to all of my activities.) Unless I plan on perfecting the hurdles, it is imperative that I slow down. His legs, coupled with the Lego/Matchbox mine field produced by my children, cause me to take shorter steps and place my feet more carefully.

When he is not planted there, he likes to converse with me in the other epicenter of our home...the kitchen. He usually finds that he is most comfortable in the corner of our L-shaped counter where I do all of my cooking, and where he is strategically blocking the doors to all of the cabinets in which I keep my supplies. For some reason, the kitchen table that is 3 steps from that location is just too far to have an adequate conversation.

I will continue to be annoyed, but I am coming to terms with the fact that this whole process is biblical. I will add SPEEDBUMP to my list of things I have to love about John in a biblical context. God put him here for a reason. I just hope I don't hurt him when I trip over him!