one long hike

Darkness. 2AM and heading up the trail. The journey begins.
Headlamp. One foot in front of the other. Hard to see.
City lights. Skyscrapers appear as dots in the distance. Standing above civilization.
Daybreak. Sunbeams break slowly over the horizon. Orange and pink.
Light. Slowly climbing up the boulder field. Watch my step.
Sun. Risen fully and revealing a majestic landscape. Beauty of destination.
Wind. Storm coming in faster than expected. Change our plans.
Breathe. Take in the accomplishment of what we've reached. Savor the moment.
Look. Descending, seeing the darkened path we'd climbed. Take some pictures.
Sigh. See the parking lot around the bend. Return to familiar.
Smile. Greeted by children's smiling faces, warm embraces. Never forget it.
Reflect. The mountain will still be there later. Today will not.
Cherish. Enjoy my last day with these children, with this ranch. Love matters most.

This past Friday I set out to climb Long's Peak (roughly 14,200 feet). I'd been anticipating it for weeks and couldn't wait to see from the top of the mountain I'd looked at every day for half a summer. The poetry-esque thing above tells a bit of the day's story. Basically, we hiked up to a place called the keyhole which is a mile or so away from the summit. The keyhole's the point at which you determine if the conditions are safe enough to go on; unfortunately they weren't. Lots of fast wind bringing in storm clouds. So we had to turn around. But we were SO close. I mean it would've taken us another hour or two, but when you've already hiked five it's not that big of a deal. I was disappointed for sure, but life just happens that way sometimes and you gotta move on. As one of my hiking buddies said, "It's not like that mountain's going anywhere anytime soon." And the view from the keyhole itself was stunning so at least we got some payoff for our hard work.

Because we didn't spend the extra time summiting, we got back to the ranch by mid-morning, just in time for wrangler breakfast. Looking back on it, I'm glad that things worked out that way. Ya see, this past week (week 6 for me) brought with it a fantastic group of kids that I really bonded with (the kids are always great but sometimes there's that little something added to make an extra connection). Getting to hang out with my kiddos on their last day (and the day before mine) was totally worth it. Seeing them with all their joy and energy made me smile real big on the inside and out. And I wouldn't have traded it for anything.

That mountain's not going anywhere. But opportunities to spend time with and show love to other people do.

from chaos to peace

Just finished up week 4 at the ranch. I came away from it with a new appreciation for the energy and creativity of 8 year old boys and their urge to jump and climb on things - which often ended up being me (my hat will forever bear their loving marks).

I have to say that this week wasn't an easy one for me (not that every other week has been complete "pie in the sky" - though there has been pie consumption involved, of the apple variety). Mid-way through I started feeling sick and I spent the rest of the week either in bed or feeling like my head weighed a hundred pounds. It wasn't fun. And with the ill health came low spirits, which in my opinion might have been worse.

Friday night, things started to turn around... Friday is the last night for the guests so we do our final fireside service which includes time for them to share anything that's on their mind about the week. I'd been given permission to take a nap late that afternoon and probably could've just slept through till morning, but I really wanted to be at fireside so I moseyed (yay for ranch lingo) on down there, and I'm glad I did. Guest after guest stood up to say what an incredible time they'd had all week, how they'd been ministered to by God and through others in special and life-changing ways. It's hard to capture in words the atmosphere of a Friday night fireside. Just place yourself around a fire at dusk, surrounded by people you dearly love, with a majestic mountain peak in the background; peacefulness and thanksgiving fill the air.

Now it's not like I hadn't been to any other firesides, but this one stood out to me because it was a clear reminder of why we do what we do. We (the staff) aren't serving here because it's the best paying job or the easiest job - we serve here because we have a love for God and people and the work He's doing in their lives. And playing even just a small part in that process is an incredible and humbling thing, something that makes each day and each task - no matter how small - very worth it.

And as I listened to all the testimonies from the guests that night, suddenly my aches and pains and discouraged thoughts just didn't seem all that important any more.

one step at a time

As I write this I'm sitting outside on the back steps of the staff house looking up at a host of stars. Wish I could see this many stars everywhere I go. I've been trying to remember all the constellations I memorized for astronomy but only a few have been sticking out. Alas.

At any rate, the past couple of weeks have been very full and very fun. I traded out card games for cops & robbers, and coffee-drinking excursions for karaoke. That's another way of saying I'm not working with the teens anymore. Tweens are a blast but definitely keep ya on your toes. Wouldn't trade it for anything, though. Every week I get to run around the ranch catching goats, screaming "Get him!" toward the work crew guys as the kids go running to tickle them, and assist in the lassoing of housekeepers (highlights of the photo scavenger hunt). This last week in particular had a great group of kids (super sweet), and I definitely teared up when I had to say goodbye. I can't tell you how many times they asked me if I'd be back next year so they could see me again; warmed my heart. I'd love to come back but we'll see what happens; one step at a time. It's awesome, too, how we not only had a blast doing all the crazy things that the tweens end up doing but how we also had some really good lesson times (our one serious moment of each morning) that they seemed to really understand and I hope sticks more than who won what game.

In addition to having fantastic tweens, I've had a few neat surprises:
Surprise #1: I finally saw the elk! I'd been waiting and waiting to see the elk I'd heard so much about, and one morning I was sitting outside where I'm at now and look up to see 2 elk in the woods. Beautiful moment.
Surprise #2: On Wednesday I was extremely blessed to go white water rafting with one of the families who had two boys in the tweens group. Long story of how I got to go, but I was so very thankful for the opportunity. I got my fair share of freezing water, but it was well worth it. And I got a neat object lesson out of it, too, which I'll share in a minute.
Surprise #3: On Saturday I went hiking with some people up to a place called Ouzel Falls. Almost went for a nap that afternoon, but I'm glad I didn't because the hike was just what I needed. And guess what we found at the top past the falls? SNOW! In late July, just chilling there. Really cool.

So, while I was rafting I noticed something: We paddlers had no idea what we were doing. The guide sat in the back yelling out instructions and we compliantly obeyed. We obeyed because we trusted that he knew what he was doing and we didn't. And also because we didn't want to end up trashing around in the water with all those rocks around. There were times when honestly his instructions didn't make sense to me. But if we'd ignored what he said and done what we thought was the right thing to do we'd have landed ourselves in the water for sure. Translate this experience into another scenario: I don't know what life's gonna look like for me, and I don't know the way I ought to go to get there (wherever "there" is). That's why being obedient to God is so important. Just like with that rafting guide, I've got to obey even when it seems crazy to me. Otherwise I'm gonna land myself in a bad situation (it may not be wet and cold but it sure won't be best for me). And most of the time we don't get a gameplan or map in advance. We just have to listen and obey, taking one step at a time. That's why I said earlier that I don't know if I'll be back out here next summer. As much as I'd love to (gosh, I'd love to do something like this for the rest of my life - especially in the beauty of Colorado), we'll just have to see what happens. And it's like that with everything. I don't know what next semester or next month or even tomorrow is gonna be like - what joys and what troubles I'll face - but my Guide does and I trust Him to lead me safely.