My first thoughts turned to my daughter who had turned 16 in the middle of the night. Because I didn't have cell phone coverage, I'd have to wait to contact her through the mercy of a friend and another phone service provider. Mrs. Book initiated a FaceTime call that went unanswered so we rallied the entire Book family to shoot a Happy Birthday video and a guided tour of our camp. It was already well into her work day and I knew we'd have to wait for evening to talk.
After shooting the video, my new family convened at the Train's front door to discuss the day's plans. In the middle of the night a new-to-me-family, the Blends, had arrived. There was a considerable amount of excitement as people exchanged hugs, introductions, and travel details. It was decided, that although some of the group had already been on the hike, it was worth everyone's time to return to Rifle Falls State Park to climb in caves and around the waterfalls.
The girls packed snacks, carseats and cameras while the guys got flashlights, knives, and fishing gear. We loaded people into cars for the short drive to the trailhead. Somewhere along those nine miles, the radiator hose in the Book's vehicle cracked and burst, spraying coolant everywhere, and rendering it temporarily useless. As the men discussed the best approach to solving the issue, the kids climbed trees and threw rocks in the stream. Kids are so great! What a blessing to be unencumbered by the cares of adulthood. They simply have faith that they are loved and cared for and joy, wonder and a sense of adventure paired with obedience are their primary concerns. And I marvel that these are the attributes of the childlike faith the Father has called us to, whether we are 10 or 100...
I digress. It was decided to let the engine cool, collect kids from trees, and rally the people for a short hike to base of the falls. Both Baby Book and Baby Train had fallen asleep, so the mommas elected to sit in the cars until they woke up.
There was a convergence of three separate falls at the base of the mountain and a collection of rainbows and streams to shoot with my Nikon. The Blend family had with them a collection of four beautiful daughters and an adorable, pre-teen son representing their family of nine. Mrs. Blend reported that the older girls have made it a game to avoid ever having their photo taken, so I made shooting their family my priority. Mommas absolutely need photos of their babies...
After passing the waterfalls we found our first cave to explore. Mr. Book had hidden a collection of silver coins (dimes) for the younger kids to seek as a tangible lesson to a biblical truth he had taught in the dark. As we exited the cave we found the fresh-eyed babies awake from their nap and we continued together up the mountain to the next caves.
At the top of the mountain there was a small lake stocked with trout that the group chose to take a detour to. The wound that had been opened up the day before on the Frying Pan was further medicated as I watched Doc and the dads teach the wives and children about casting, patience, reeling, netting and releasing live trout. It was cathartic to watch the families interact and to see the "man's" activity become something inclusive of everyone, regardless of skill and interest level.
Eventually, Mrs. Train, Mrs. Book and I wandered our way back towards the falls to take the loop back to the cars. These two ladies are a rich, deep source of strength of character, conviction and discernment. I cannot remember what it was like not knowing them and we all marveled at how the circumstances had knit us together only a month before on the other side of the United States.
By the time the men and kids caught up to us we were above the falls looking over the water and the valley. I wish I had the ability to capture the shadows and light and colors as there were in reality, but I took my time attempting it while the family waited patiently, all the while chattering and laughing and playing with kids.
Back at the parking lot we dished out fruit to the kids and made plans to cram together in the Blend's RV that was parked down the road, so that a couple of the dads could work together to solve the radiator hose issue with Mr. Book. Doc carried my heavy bag, while I grabbed a kid hand, and the whole group made its way to the far-away lot and piled into the camper. Mrs. Blend had gone back to the vehicle early and made a vat of macaroni and cheese to feed a kingdom (my kind of girl), and nachos for everyone. The work-together-to-serve-one-another mentality, mixed with the common-threads revealed in the sharing of our most recent personal spiritual growth testimonies, was starting to gently expose other injured places in my heart that I hadn't known were there. The nine miles back to camp were internally overwhelming as I assessed the injury and tried to determine its root.
Back at camp we discovered that the wind had demolished our little tarped together cove that the men had built around our tents for shade and protection. Tarps were torn and stakes were uprooted; my tent was holding on by one stake and the place looked as war-torn as I felt.
After re-staking my tent and making a sad attempt at the tarps, I left the moms discussing wife and mom stuff in the RV. I needed to get alone to think. I felt like I should cry, but I couldn't and I didn't know exactly why I wanted to anyway. I'm no longer a wife and the mom stuff wasn't applicable to my current mothering stage. In that moment, I lacked content to add that didn't simply feel like a massive highlighter to all of my life's failures. These ladies seem FAR ahead of me in nearly every way and I'm blessed to have been included at all, but I needed to assess wounds and ask the Great Physician for insight and to find a cell signal to call my daughter.
The trip into cell coverage added to the internal discomfort. There were texts from clients needing scheduling changes and from two separate people I've been assisting as a form of "ministry". Both are in unsafe situations, both had attempted to contact me at some point during the weekend. I was unable to reach either, which added to my heaviness. Additionally, one of my kids is going through some personal trials and needed to talk it out. I returned to camp feeling like I never should have come. What was I thinking? My real life isn't like this with all this support and family-feeling and love... Then enemy of my heart was hard at work to whisper lies and half-truths over my thoughts and I knew I needed to get back to The Family.
By the time I reintegrated with the group Doc, the Blends and most of the kids were playing football in the street and the moms were putting together "walking tacos" to feed The Family. I watched these ladies easily whip up dinner for everyone while I sat doing nothing on the outskirts of the camp site. I thought back to my first decade and a half of marriage and family-raising. I used to be that way then; I could host any number of people for a lavish, made-from-scratch dinner. I had the tactical ability and the gadgets and the time to make it all perfect.
Back then I also hosted bible studies, prayer meetings, progressive dinners... I worked in the church nursery, ran a day-care and an at-home hair side-business. I donated time to the pastor and his secretary for odd jobs like bulletin board building and for special events like marriage-matters dinners. I volunteered in my kids' classrooms, chaperoned field trips and sat on the Steering Committee that founded MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers) in Alaska, while planning monthly MOPS events. I participated in fundraisers and trainings and sang on two worship teams. I visited hospice patients and and, and, and...
Now I sat here realizing that all of it had been of little to no value- not to my marriage, not to my children, or my personal understanding of scripture, or understanding what it looks like to walk out obedience to any of it. Furthermore, I was no longer capable of handling even a fraction of that kind of load...
Accepting this new level of grief, trying to fully assess all of the wounds from the shots I've taken from the enemy over the years, I realized something critical: I've never actually left the battle before, at least not long enough to assess whether or not I'm still battlefield ready. Is it possible that years ago, rather than "standing firm," I should have checked in to the infirmary?
Because the weekend was't over, there is no way for me to fully assess, or address practically, any of the things that were being exposed. All I could do is bleed and embrace the next fire-chat conversation and keep moving forward according The Great Physician's surgical agenda...
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