“You're my cave to hide in, my cliff to climb. Be my safe leader, be my true mountain guide”
(Psalm 31: 3-4, MSG)
A year ago, my boyfriend at the time decided to end our relationship, and my world was rocked; I had thought it was forever, and it wasn't. He had turned my life upside down by coming into it, and now it felt like the rug was being ripped out from under me, and I was lost. Absolutely and positively lost. I didn't want my old life back, but I didn't know how to find my way in a new life either. What does this have to do with climbing Mt. Hood? Or what does a breakup have anything to do with mountains in general??? Well, in the past year, the Lord has led me on an incredible journey that has given me a perspective on life that still amazes me. It hasn't always made sense, has been filled with ups and downs, pain and confusion, but also... Healing. Growing. Changing. Strengthening. Maturing. And has led me to discover mountains. And I think it's a tale worth telling, as vulnerable and hard as it is.
It's hard to think of a year ago, because it seems like a lifetime ago. A different lifetime. It's hard to remember the truth of who I was... A girl filled with so much anxiety about something as simple as going to the gas station. Grocery shopping was torture, I would literally talk myself out of buying any dairy products that happened to be in the same isle as the beer, or if I couldn't find something instantly and get the heck out of there, well I'd just have to live without it. I hated having terms applied to me, “farmer”, “cyclist”, “girlfriend”, because I didn't feel I measured up and could get rejected. Oh and the mere thought of wearing shorts... Oh. My. Goodness. Let's not even visit that mess of anxiety. And then you factored in relationship things, and I basically was just freaking out about absolutely everything all of the time. Here someone was questioning why my #1 criteria for new car shopping had to be how many miles it got per tank, or why selling my house was out of the question. And I didn't get it. Yet I thought he should get it. He should understand, and somehow make everything all better.
Do I blame him for walking away? No, I'm actually grateful. As hard as it was to accept and make sense of, I'm grateful. I was a mess. And am still a mess in a lot of ways, but I'm getting better, and wouldn't be where I am today without him walking away. So yes, as strange as it may seem, I am, and will continue to be, grateful for the heartbreak. And to be fair, I know it wasn't all on me, I think he had his own mess too—everyone does. But the thing I've learned most in the last year is that there is so much beauty in our messes, if we only choose to love ourselves in them as God loves us. And be grateful for them. But that's not always easy.
How do you love yourself when you hurt people you love? How are you supposed to be grateful when you screw up your life? When you feel like you've never done anything important? Aren't good at anything? Have nothing special to offer? When you've let God down? Feel like you're a disappointment to everyone that matters to you? How do you love yourself when you feel like a failure? I remember journaling in the midst of my breaking, and taking a picture of what I'd just written and sending it to my dear friend with something along the lines of “What the f*$# is wrong with me??? How the f*$# did I become such a f*$#ing mess? How the f*$# will I ever fix all this f*$#ing s*$# that is wrong with me????” Yeah. Fun times. Plus I used to have a swearing problem--my bad. How very much I want to go back in time and give that poor broken and lost girl a hug and tell her it's going to be okay. How I'd love to whisper in her ear the truths she so, so needed to know in order to get her head on straight, and start living life.
Many, many years ago, I was hurt by someone I had chose to place my trust in. It was at a bad time in my life, when I was sick of watching how much Christianity can hurt people I have always felt a passion for protecting, for fighting for. The ones that don't fit in, the ones that need God's love the most. The ones that Christianity likes to shun, or decide aren't worth God's love. But how could I love God and hate Christianity? So I decided to forge my own way, and go against God... So when God told me I shouldn't be with this person, well, that was all the reason I needed to be with him anyway. So when I wound up hurt? A big part of me felt like I deserved it... And being in college at the time, I heard enough stories that I knew I wasn't “special”, heck, I was “lucky” by comparison of what other girls had survived! So I just tried to carry on. To ignore it. My go-to when trying to get past things I don't want to deal with is change and distraction. So I launched myself into things I would never have seen myself doing... I joined a sorority, I chose to move to New Zealand for 4 months, I applied to be a representative for a trade convention all the way in Florida, I went on trips, got involved in a dance club at school, and just kept busy!
But then everything changed... College was over. Life began. I bought a house, and remodeled it, and got settled into working on the farm full-time, so was busy for a time. My friends had went back to their hometowns, and I found myself... alone. Years passed, and what did I have to show for it...? What had even filled those years? I was just existing. I don't remember when I finally started to “wake up” a little, if there was something that sparked it, or if I was just gradually becoming unsatisfied with merely existing, but little by little, I felt a compulsion to find my way back to "being good" with God... And little things would slip past all the walls I had built up, and find their way to my consciousness... A hike in Hawaii that is illegal but that looks beyond amazing... Oh but I could never do that, look at all those steps. This absolutely insane “hike” that goes up a granite face with only little cables preventing you from falling hundreds of feet off the cliff edge... Yeah, those people are crazy, and you could never do it anyway... As much as I tried to dismiss these things as crazy, as stupid, insane, or that I could never physically do them, I couldn't get them out of my mind. So I finally decided maybe I'd do some little hikes and see how it went... Maybe, just maybe, I could muster the courage to try...
I was watching my niece one day, and used “occupying” her as an excuse for moral support to drive up to McDowell Creek Falls for the first time and hiked the loop (after reading absolutely everything there was to find about this not even 1.5 mile loop on the internet! Because I have to over think everything and control-freak-the-heck out of everything, obviously, or it just might not be safe). And I found myself intrigued! Then I drug a friend with me... Then I went more and more, and tried out some other places and trails, sometimes even by myself, something I always swore others were moronic to do. I found myself wanting to go further, with more elevation gain, and to see new sights... I confided in my friend that I felt like I wasn't living life, that I was in a rut of just existing, and asked his help in breaking me out of it. So we committed on having an adventure each month for a year... We failed, but the adventures we did take were incredible! But just a few months into that year of adventures, when I'd taken a huge adventure to Costa Rica on my own, was feeling rather invincible, and like I'd finally figured all my “mess” out... That's when love came knocking down my door and turning my life on end. I had a false sense that I was great now! I was ready! And oh was I wrong...
It turns out I have an issue with pride. Funny, I thought that since I always thought terribly of myself, I obviously had missed the bullet on being proud! But trying to share my life with someone while needing to control-freak-the-heck out of life? Definitely destroyed the carefully (and pridefully) constructed image that my life was fine and dandy and brought all my mess to the surface... All of it. All those nasty bits you thought were hid away so deep there was zero chance they'd ever be seeing daylight again? That even you had forgotten about? Yeah, no. And then it was over, but the mess was all still there! No denying it, no ignoring it—it was all in my face demanding to be dealt with. No ability to just retreat behind my carefully constructed walls, because they'd been shattered. And I had a decision to make... I'd been fighting and fighting for years to find my way back to God in a meaningful way and making little progress. I'd been trying churches on and off, but they all reminded me of what I'd hated about the faith to start with... Yet here I was, utterly shattered and heart broken, with all this mountain of issues piled on my head, and knowing I was completely incapable of fixing any of this mess on my own. I was beyond overwhelmed, and exhausted to the point the mere thought of another day of living was almost enough to do me in. I didn't know what to do, I felt helpless. And I ended up hitting my knees in a way I'd never done before... With the full weight of conviction of how awful I'd been to God, that he owed me nothing, but recognizing for the first time how completely unable to control anything about my life I truly was. Instead, I surrendered it to the only one who could.
God was beyond good to me. He weighed things on my heart that were exactly right to steer me in the paths I needed to go... I knew I had to find a way to be grateful for the hurts and the breaking, or bitterness would consume me, and I knew a bitter person was not who I wanted to be. God led me to "stumble" upon the book Uninvited, by Lysa TerKeurst, which explained the idea of choosing gratitude over bitterness, and suggested finding “perspective changing opportunities” to help. So I started working in my town's soup kitchen—something I'd always wanted to do, but never felt like I was “good enough” to be able to. I wanted to ignore my negative feelings about myself and my problems, and instead learn to choose serving others and focusing on their needs rather than my own (less bad) problems. I barely got out the door the first night before breaking down in tears because the manager had thanked me for coming in to volunteer... Didn't he get it? Didn't he see what a mess I was?? Didn't he realize it was me that should be thanking him for letting messed-up-ol'-me come through his door??? But it got easier. And my heart grew. I found a church that preaches God's love. And my heart grew some more. Emotions came through that I'd never experienced before. It's like I was coming alive again. I was enjoying people, and could feel comfortable around them. And step by step, God was there... Directing me. Changing my heart. Showing me how to grow and heal, how to find my way to the woman he wanted me to be. I climbed South Sister on a whim, to see if I could... I went on an epic trip hiking in Utah's National Parks, climbing things like Angel's Landing and going into the backcountry of Zion to find the Subway. I fulfilled a goal for the year and climbed Mt. St. Helens. And in the midst of my adventures, I continued to seek God, to be surrendered to him, to recognize him being in charge--not me.
I was confused though. As much as I was enjoying my life, I was overwhelmed too. It felt like God kept showing me these different things I was freaking out about, and why... But the list kept growing! How was I ever going to keep myself in check on all of these things? I had figured out by this point that I'd been desperately trying to protect myself (even the swearing! Oh my...), but was shocked each time a new way was revealed and the lengths I'd gone to in order to do so. More tears and break downs, and finally another conversation with my dear saint of a friend... could it have anything to do with getting hurt previously...? To even acknowledge the idea, that it could have affected me, just made me sick, like it was giving him power over my life, but it was the only thing I could think of, there had to be a core cause. My friend thought it had, and everything just fell into place... in what felt like seconds at a computer (which I know was God directed, since I'm usually very challenged with all things techy), I had a list before me that described all my self-protection attempts to a "T". Page after page explaining everything I'd been living with for over a decade, everything God was walking me through the process of discovering... And to see it there in black and white, to have a label attached to it... The power of that hurt finally fell away, and the devil lost his grip of fear on me. And oh does it make me feel stupid at times that I never connected the dots. I like to think I'm a somewhat intelligent person, but sometimes... Not so much. I remember when my ex and I were still together, and I was trying to explain one of my freak-outs... He was goofing off and trying to tickle me or something, and the degree of terror it induced in me... Wow. But even then, in the midst of my mess and denial, I was rational enough to explain to him that things like that are hard for me to see as “fun” when I have so many memories of similar things leading to getting hurt... Goofing off turns to almost broken arms, or fingers I couldn't move for years without pain, or bruises I got to try and hide. Well intentioned “fun”, with someone who was “careless”, and it had left its scars... I had described my problem. Yet I refused to see a solution for it or the bigger impact of the situation, to see that the other “hurts” had left their scars as well, and just how much I was trying to protect myself from the world. I had failed to recognize what I'd just described is better known as PTSD.
When that piece of the puzzle fell into place, all of a sudden I could see the bigger picture perfectly clear. All of the freak-outs made sense. I could see beyond them to see the truth that was waiting beneath the surface, of what I did want out of life. I could recognize that the freak-outs were just wasted energy of trying to protect myself from the world... And how impossible a job that is. Life is messy, sure, and we'll get hurt along the way. No matter what we do, no matter how effective we are at keeping people at arm's length, or hiding behind modest clothes, of compartmentalizing what aspects of ourselves we show to others... We can't keep ourselves from getting hurt. By putting myself down constantly in my head, I wasn't changing how others saw me—just because I wasn't desirable in my own mind didn't mean no one else would find me desirable and hurt me as a result. Speaking profanely wasn't putting on a "gruff" enough of an exterior or offending people enough to keep them away (or avoiding the beer isle or gas station...) Clinging to everything that was mine with a death grip wouldn't protect me from feeling lost or worthless... Oh my. To think back on all of the ways I tried to protect myself is exhausting. And to think of how ineffective all those efforts were! I feel so full of sympathy for that poor frightened girl, because the truth was staring me in the face the whole time.
God is our healer. Our redeemer. Our protector. He is the only one that determines our worth. Our identity. Our purpose. He's the one that loves us at our worst, who promises to love us no matter how far we stray from him. He is the one that pursues us, even in our own self-inflicted darkness. He directs us, and weaves these incredible stories for our lives with all of our “messes” as his media. All of my life, I've heard these things, learned of his promises, committed verse upon verse of his word into my memory. I've loved him and felt his presence with me... Yet somehow, I never got it. When I'm weak, then I'm strong? What does that mean??? Until you've experienced it, you can only conceptualize what Paul is saying. When you've never seen how God can drag you up out of the mire you've created for yourself and felt him embrace you even in such a state, you can never fully grasp the redemptive love he has for you. Until you've felt the weight of an unbearable burden—like keeping yourself safe, keeping your life together and in control, making your way through life all on your own—all be lifted off your shoulders, you never fully grasp the freedom God offers us through salvation. I get it now. I get how we can be grateful and be filled with joy in the midst of storms, I get how we can turn to Jesus to provide strength when we're at our weakest, and how we can trust in God even when we can't see any possible way through the mess we find ourselves in. God is good. He has shown me this fact, over and over. And he kept showing me until I finally grasped the concept.
A couple of days ago, I climbed another mountain: Mt. Hood. This past year, the idea of mountains has never been far from my mind. I used to ride my bike to find peace, but this year the bike has sat idle, and my peace comes from hikes and mountains. My life has seemed like one giant mountain. One I desperately wanted God to step in and move out of the way, and which he was refusing to do so. There have been many set-backs, and times I've fallen flat on my face, and felt like a failure, and like I'd utterly lost my way. I felt like I kept climbing and climbing, just trusting that I'd some day get to a summit and finally get that downhill ease happening, and yet it was never arriving. I've worried I'd heard God wrong, and simply must be on the wrong path... Even the decision to climb Mt. Hood seemed like a mountain in and of itself. I had planned to go climb Half Dome this fall—to finally bring my journey of becoming a hiker full-circle and tackle the beast that inspired this all... And was utterly devastated when I didn't draw permits in the lottery early this spring. I tried to swallow the disappointment, and accept that Half Dome wasn't God's plan for me yet (that this didn't mean I'd never get to climb it), but it was hard.
I
decided to tackle “Plan B” instead (Mt. Hood) but how? I finally
had a plan in place, and it fell through... More disappointment, more
feeling like a failure. And do you accept the no as being from God, or do you fight harder for it??? I scrambled to find a new plan, knowing
the peak climbing window was already shut and that harvest was
knocking down my door. I found a group that was going and was
welcoming me with open arms, yes, finally! Okay, so it'll be slower
than my ideal, but it'll get me to the summit... I'll take it! But
then more things went awry—my dog ended up in the hospital hours
before I needed to leave, my car was having issues and I worried
wouldn't make the trip up to Timberline, I was hearing reports of
very unsafe amounts of rock fall, and on and on... How many “signs”
could there be to say you shouldn't be doing something? Yet I needed
this summit! I needed to remember who I was—and not because an
accomplishment was giving me worth, or another summit in my book gave
me any sense of value, but in the bigger sense... that I'm a girl
that can tackle a mountain because God is fighting with me, a girl
that has worked her butt of to get to a place of confidence in who
she is in God's eyes and able to dismiss what others may think of me,
and a girl who can face things that would have left me shaking in my
boots a year ago. A girl who is strong, brave, talented, caring,
loyal, fierce, who perseveres and doesn't give up, and who loves
God with a passion. Yes, I needed this summit, and felt a peace
in the midst of the storm that God would give it to me. And he did.
As I walked through the darkness, focusing on just keeping my feet following the path of those in front of me, seeing only what was illuminated by my headlamp, only knowing I was gradually moving “up” to an unknown... There was such joy in my heart. All I could do was make lists of all of the incredible things about God, about his love for me. And I knew he was going to bless me with the summit. There was never a moment of doubt. When the sun started coming up, and I was facing the most difficult part of the trip, the steepness of the climb making it look impassable, the rock and ice looming overhead making it look like an accident begging to happen... yet I had no fear, only excitement--of the climb ahead and of God's amazing creation surrounding me.. There was zero room for fear. Joshua 1:9 is on my bathroom mirror, reminding me each morning that I don't need to be afraid, that I am commanded by God to be strong and courageous because he is with me. And looking at that last bit of climb, knowing full well I'm still utterly disabled by my fear of heights if I let it have any foothold in my mind... I finally got it. I don't need to be afraid. God is with me.
God works in crazy ways sometimes... sometimes it's a heartbreak, sometimes it's a mountain, sometimes it's getting groped by a homeless man (true story), but there is always beauty to be found in the messes life brings us. We just have to be open to letting God reveal it to us, to choose to be grateful even in the pit of despair, and to face the challenges with courage because we know God is fighting with us--and making us better because of them. And yeah, sometimes we fail, sometimes we get caught up in feeling sorry for ourselves and overwhelmed by the weight of what is "wrong" with our lives, but even in those moments, we have to find strength in God's truths. He loves each of us. Knows exactly what each of us need. Has a plan for each of our lives, with purposes greater than we can fathom. He is good, and he is for us. And he's got this. We just have to trust, and walk in faith. Even if it's up a mountain.
I see the world so differently than I did a year ago. Gone are the fears and need to protect myself from the world, and present is the excitement for what life has in store, of finding out what my two legs can accomplish, of making up for all of the living I've been missing out on, and to see what God continues to do in and through my life. So here's to more mountains... Preferably the rock kind, not the life kind. I like them better, and there are lots of them left on my list, with the next challenge already picked out and on the calendar! Lord willing, of course ;)
