I made it
I survived the hike. Didn't make it to the summit due to altitude sickness (some dizziness, nausea, and the like), but I think I made it to about 12,500 or 13,000. We couldn't have asked for better weather (clear blue skies, nice breeze) and all around it was a good time.
I think I'm becoming addicted to hiking. I'm going again on Saturday. And eventually I will make it to the peak of Greys (maybe not Torreys...kind of scary).
Tomorrow, I will do something I've never done before. I will be hiking a fourteener. For those of you who don't know (and I was sure one of those not too long ago), a fourteener is a mountain that is 14,000 feet in elevation or higher. The goal is to hike to two (Greys and Torreys). We'll see if that happens.
We're going as a staff for our annual 'retreat.' I can't imagine it not being a bonding time.
The hike is about 8 miles round trip. The estimated time it will take us is 6 hours (4 hours up, 2 hours down). We will gain 3,000 feet in elevation during the hike. The trailhead is at 11,200 and the peak is 14,200. What fun! I'm told I'll see mountain goats, amazing views, and tons and tons of rocks.
I'll let you know how it goes...
change
I decided to change the name of my blog. Don't know really why; just felt like the thing to do. This next year (or so) will be interesting, if nothing else. Interesting is the word I use when trying to be optimistic about something I perceive to be stupid or weird or regrettably dull. Hopefully this next year will not be any of those, but will prove to give new meaning to the word interesting...the literal meaning: arousing a feeling that accompanies or causes special attention to...
Regardless, this changing the name of my blog is to accept the possibilities and realities of where I am, who I am, and who I'm becoming (the latter of which I consider to be of utmost importance). Moreover, it's about God, His timing, His purposes and giving Him the glory, honor and praise due his name.
Question of the Day: Why do you do what you do?
Poem: "The Calf-Path" by Sam Walter Foss. Public Domain.
The Calf-Path
One day through the primeval wood
A calf walked home as good calves should;
But made a trail all bent askew,
A crooked trail as all calves do.
Since then three hundred years have fled,
And I infer the calf is dead.
But still he left behind his trail,
And thereby hangs my moral tale.
The trail was taken up next day
By a lone dog that passed that way;
And then a wise bell-wether sheep
Pursued the trail o'er vale and steep,
And drew the flock behind him, too,
As good bell-wethers always do.
And from that day, o'er hill and glade,
Through those old woods a path was made,
And many men wound in and out,
And dodged and turned and bent about,
And uttered words of righteous wrath
Because 'twas such a crooked path;
But still they followed—do not laugh—
The first migrations of that calf,
And through this winding wood-way stalked
Because he wobbled when he walked.
This forest path became a lane,
That bent, and turned, and turned again.
This crooked lane became a road,
Where many a poor horse with his load
Toiled on beneath the burning sun,
And traveled some three miles in one.
And thus a century and a half
They trod the footsteps of that calf.
The years passed on in swiftness fleet.
The road became a village street;
And this, before men were aware,
A city's crowded thoroughfare,
And soon the central street was this
Of a renowned metropolis;
And men two centuries and a half
Trod in the footsteps of that calf.
Each day a hundred thousand rout
Followed this zigzag calf about,
And o'er his crooked journey went
The traffic of a continent.
A hundred thousand men were led
By one calf near three centuries dead.
They followed still his crooked way,
And lost one hundred years a day,
For thus such reverence is lent
To well-established precedent.
A moral lesson this might teach
Were I ordained and called to preach;
For men are prone to go it blind
Along the calf-paths of the mind,
And work away from sun to sun
To do what other men have done.
They follow in the beaten track,
And out and in, and forth and back,
And still their devious course pursue,
To keep the path that others do.
They keep the path a sacred groove,
Along which all their lives they move;
But how the wise old wood-gods laugh,
Who saw the first primeval calf.
Ah, many things this tale might teach—
But I am not ordained to preach.
a new phase
my grandmother is moving into an assisted living place on friday. fortunately, i get to go there this weekend to be with her. this makes me really sad. it also seems unfair. i know it's life. i know it happens. i've known that it was coming for a little while. non of that makes it easier. if it's hard for me, i can't imagine how it is for my mother (her mother is the one going through the transition) and my sister (she lives with my grandparents). i've made the choice to be away, to further my education and pursue what i believe is God's will for my life. my family has always been supportive of my decisions to do this. yet it is times like these that make it hard to be away and in rushes thoughts of 'what ifs' and feelings of guilt and selfishness. so i know those aren't from God, so I try to dispell them as soon as they rear their ugly little heads (i'm trying to ponder what facial expressions would be on the heads of a creature called 'guilt' and an animal named "selfishness"). instead i try and think of all the amazing times i was blessed to have with my grandparents and all of the incredible truths they taught me through their lives and words.
the saddest thing i've heard so far, coming from my granddad, said to my mother after he realized what was going on (he will stay at the house until a room opens for him at the assisted living place): "you don't blame me, do you?" as if he'd failed to be the provider and care-taker of my grandmother, his wife of 61 years. How sad. Of course there's no blame.
The good thing is that my grandmother is the one who suggested the move and she is ready. The hard thing is that she is fine mentally, just running down physically. It's not the case for my granddad. He's getting more confused each day and his memory is going. That makes my heart hurt.
I know that death is inevitable. I even have the hope of them having it better in heaven. But the whole death thing is not natural. It's not what God desired. So it's hard and sad and weird. Selfishly, I think the thing that makes me the saddest is the chance that whoever becomes my family will not know the wonderful legacy, the beautiful, Godly, loving, wise people God gave me as grandparents. I know they wouldn't desire it one second, but I do wish (and used to think) that they would live forever...
