a cautionary tale

We’re vacationing in the Smokies. We are spending a lot of time hiking and picnicking in the national park. Coming from flatland Indiana, the rolling hills and towering peaks are a startling contrast. So we’ve been driving and hiking through the mountains and valleys, drinking in the beauty of it.

Trekking up a mountain requires physical agility. Madison, our 8 year old daughter, is a trooper (most of the time). Once on a trail up a steady incline she declared that her body “just wasn’t made for this.” Other than that, she is willing to tackle any obstacle. Abigail, our 16 month old, enjoys the royal treatment and is being carried everywhere.

The trails are strenuous but relatively safe for hikers. The trouble came for us when we diverged from the beaten path.

A couple of days ago we were hiking it. The trail was climbing steadily and we were doing fine, growing tired but thinking of taking it all the way up the mountain. About a third of the way into it, we noticed a trail to the stream running next to us with a perfect little rock outcrop where we thought it might be nice to sit and relax. Upon approaching this rocky rest stop I noticed that there was a large gap where the water flowed through, which we would all have to cross in order to reach our selected rest spot.

Like most mothers, I worry incessantly about possible horrendous outcomes of normal, everyday experiences. What if our car falls over the edge of that cliff? The drop there is pretty steep, and the ground is littered with rocks… I’m sure we would all die if we fell down there... Or when my husband stood near the edge of a waterfall with our toddler and casually propped his foot up on the cliff edge – a once peaceful scene was transformed as images of Thane and Abigail tumbling to a rocky death filled my mind.

So I am learning valuable lessons in trust and talking to God when I get scared.

But back to the infamous hike… So we’re off the beaten path, getting ready to cross the roaring rapids (not really, it was just a stream). My husband is contemplating how best to get across and I am wondering if we should do this at all. As I am telling him that I don’t think this is a great idea, he decides to cross the stream with our toddler in arms. I’m starting to get angry now. Did he have to cross with Abigail in his arms!? So I ask him to hand her back to me, which he does with success, though I take note of the difficulty of passing a twenty pound toddler over a 2 foot divide. My husband decides that the rock is good for resting and bids the family to come over. Although I am nervous, I decide to trust him and pass Abigail over the divide again. This time, unsuccessfully.

Yes, I said unsuccessfully! My balance shifted as the weight of our toddler transferred and I slipped on the rock. I couldn’t catch myself and I couldn’t catch my daughter.

But what threatened to be disastrous, wasn’t. Thane caught my arm and my fall was broken. I was wet, but I wasn’t hurt. Thane caught Abigail and she didn’t fall either. She was completely unscathed. Thane pulled me up I climbed onto the rock with him and Abigail. Madison waited in the wings on the other side, totally agape and not entertaining the idea of coming over at all.

My first reaction? Anger. Oh yeah, I was angry. I was so angry I just sat down on the rock, thinking of what might have happened.

The next reasonable course of action was getting back over to the other side without another fall, which we accomplished. After that I picked up our bag of supplies and proceeded to make my way down the mountain. Wet up to my stomach, shoes sloshing with water and my family following behind me, the anger strangely melted away. Acceptance replaced it and a sense that one of my horrible scenarios came true, but ended differently than I anticipated. Gratefulness replaced anger as I reflected on what we just experienced.

Thane asked me if I trusted him more or less after this incident. My answer was a little more and a little less. I trust him less to know the limitations of his family. I trust him more to rescue us when we fall. And, I trust God a little more too. I believe God was there when we fell. I believe he was there as Thane pulled Abigail and me to safety. He was there in my anger, and he was there in my gratefulness.

Just a word of caution… when hiking, don’t pass toddlers over rocky outcrops and rushing streams.