The Grand: South Carolina to Arizona (Part 1 of 4)

You've had those mornings.  When the alarm hits you like a sledgehammer out of The Happy Black, and you wonder why that stupid alarm is malfunctioning--I mean, you fell asleep only five minutes ago!--Oh, wait, you realize as you squint at your clock.  It was actually three hours ago.

This particular morning was like that.  Except that in this story, that alarm marked the beginning of an adventure that I fondly refer to as "The Grand."  As I rolled out of bed, I remember telling myself, "Don't get too excited.  You need to get some sleep before it's your turn to drive."

I've been thinking a lot about my hiking and backpacking memories, and in nearly all of these memories is my chum Torrye.  She and I have very... "throw caution to the wind"-type personalities.  Especially when it comes to adventuring.  Whether it was traveling across the country to hike the Grand Canyon or taking a weekend backpacking trip into the foothill mountains that were nearly in our backyard, we always had a story to tell.  And I love telling stories.

Getting back to this story, I want to give you warning ... at five o'clock in the a.m.?  Yeah, I looked like this:

And Torrye looked like this:

I don't have to explain why she's driving first.

And thus began our 30+ hour driving trip to... Arizona.

...from Travelers Rest, South Carolina.  We only stopped for the food, gas, and the bathroom (all three things usually went together--convenience store meals--*gasp!*)... and Torrye's little Honda did all the work.  When we did stop, however, we tried to take advantage of any opportunity to stretch our legs... literally:

Torrye calls me the monkey girl.  This photo was taken in Oklahoma... we had stopped to use the bathroom at the visitors' welcome center, and as we drove in, we stared in awe at these huge picnic/teepee structures. We both said out loud, "What are those things?!"  Let me tell you something about the two of us.  We are both small children cleverly disguised as responsible adults.

After maturely perusing through the visitor information, glancing at a few displays, and kindly chatting with the nice old ladies behind the desk, we stealthily drove around to the rear of the building ... those teepees were begging to be climbed.  I looked like an idiot, but I reached the top:

Torrye isn't a monkey ... so she walked off toward the woods, grabbed a log, and dragged it up next to a giant teepee.  And guess what?  No go.  Hehehe...

Here's a lesson for the kids about being a monkey: Monkeys have dirty feet. 

After that refreshing frolic, we got back on the road to Arizona.  There are so many road stories I could tell ... for example, accidentally finding Bridgestone's headquarters (that's a good story... I begged to be let in, then I had to go through security sign-in just to pee!) ... allowing our road buddy Harley the SUV to "push" the slow cars out of the fast lane... having all the truckers from South Carolina to Arizona honk at us... et cetera...

And oh, the things we saw in the rear view mirror.... 

Scary, right?

Hehe... Just kidding.

Here's one that's a little more scary:

The police. Actually, that happened on the way back from the canyon.  Torrye had been driving... we didn't have the papers he asked for... but he saw our backpacking gear in back seat of the car... and ... he let us go!!!  YEEHAW :)

Well, actually, he gave us a warning.  But I'm getting ahead of myself again.

(Ahem!) After the long drive to the canyon, we eventually saw this sign:

Our hearts broke.  We wept tears of great sadness, for our beautiful road trip was almost over, and we would soon be forced to leave our beloved i40.

NOT!  We were soo happy to be getting off the interstate and heading for a real state highway that would take us to the South Rim entrance of the Grand Canyon National Park.  After all, we were a little tired of seeing this for thirty hours straight:

Next time:

The Grand: Being Outdoorsy (Part 2 of 4)

find the space for memories

Today is story day. AND it's memory day. There's one particular season of my life that I love to remember... backpacking in the Blue Ridge Mountains with my pal Torrye. She and I were hiking buddies, and I grew exponentially in emotional and spiritual maturity because of the wilderness.

Just to warn you, I like to tell stories with pictures.

Backpacking saved me from a sedentary lifestyle. I would be fat and lazy and boring if it hadn't been for the wilderness of the Carolinas. Our friends would call us crazy because we'd be two girls in the middle of nowhere (some southern women would tell us, "God only knows what can happen to two girls in the woods!")... and sometimes I would seriously consider the dangers that could be lurking out there... but when I woke up every morning, I would see this:

Or this:

And all doubts left my mind.  The wilderness was where I wanted to be. That's the beauty of the woods... the sun shines through, the birds are singing, Torrye is snoring away, and I fear crawling out my sleeping bag to go pee outside.

I fondly called this sleeping bag configuration "the yeti."

We had our whole morning routine down to a science:  Roll up our sleeping bags (so we wouldn't be tempted to get back in them). Cook and eat breakfast (usually oatmeal). Go to the river to fill up our Nalgenes. Brush our teeth...

We were dirty, tired, and ugly in the woods.  But the best part was that nobody cared!

We'd stuff our sleeping bags into our packs, run down our bear bag, pack it, then break down our (wet/dirty/difficult) tent and pack the poles and canvas separately to divvy out the weight.  Then, we'd be on the trail, only remembering yesterday because of the aches in our legs.  We'd walk that way for nine hours, stopping only to eat peanut butter and honey sandwiches for lunch, until we reached another campsite.

Most of the times we were backpacking, it would be cold.  Sometimes it got below freezing at night, and you think I'm kidding?  Check this out:

I think that it was during those cold nights that Torrye fell in love with the sun.  Simply said, she's only happy in the sun.  (On a side note and for example, we took a day hike to Shining Rock.  Moments after I took this next picture, Torrye curled up on this sunny rock and fell asleep.)

The cold actually helped us become stronger hikers because it was only in moving that we were able to stay warm--which meant that our clothes would not only be wet from precipitation, but they would also be wet from perspiration. (Ew, gross!)  I used to hang my clothes up to dry like this:

That would never work.  They'd be even more disgusting come morning.  So, after a while of freezing our butts off, we decided campfires were the way to go.  We would sit for hours near a fire, just soaking up the heat.  Then we would rig a sort of fishing pole setup, hanging our clothes dangerously close to the fire.  The fire would dry and heat our clothes.  It would also make them smell like smoke forever.

Another thing we learned about campfires and photography?  That after being trail-crazed for a couple days, we probably would look like pot heads to the average onlooker:

Okay but before I get ahead of myself, let me tell the rest of the routine.  We'd set up our tent together, and after that, we had separate duties.  Torrye would cook dinner...

And I would build the fires.

I was happy on the trail.

So was Torrye.
Hehehehe... She's going to kill me for that picture.  To be fair, I'll put an equally embarrassing photo of me on this post:

But the story behind that picture will have to wait for another time.

But back to this story... We would end the day by journaling our little hearts away.  I mostly wrote boring things ("Today we hiked 12 miles and I wanna go to bed... why is my pen running out of ink? ... I wonder when our next meal is...") while Torrye wrote profound thoughts ("God is like sunlight... the world is a mysterious and grand place... I am a philosopher..."):

[Serious thought warning!]

Truth is, though, that the Psalms truly ministered to my heart.  In some ways, David was a kindred spirit (I've been watching Anne of Green Gables lately).  He wrote, "Oh, that I had wings like a dove! I would fly away and be at rest; yes, I would wander far away; I would lodge in the wilderness" (Psa. 55:6-7).

I would often explain to my roommates at college that although backpacking drained us of energy, it was refreshing not to worry about gossip, exams, self-esteem, or fashionable clothes.  When you're in the wilderness hiking with 30+ pounds of home and food and toilet paper in your backpack, the only thing you worry about is the next step, the next campsite, and the next meal. [End of serious thought.]

After journaling, we would get in our sleeping bags and look through the day's pictures.  We would sometimes make video journals (they're fun... check out the YouTube reel on this page... there are tons of video journals):

And by the end of the trip, our feet usually looked like this:

I would have three blisters.  Torrye would often have twelve.

Anyway, I said all of that to say this:  Sometimes it's easy to forget the hardships and struggles and rewards and joys of our past... but it's important to recall the pits from which God has rescued us.  I've been trying to remember every morning the significance of Christ's work on the cross.  As I've said before, I have been praying for true humility.  This works.

"Now I would remind you, brothers, of the gospel I preached to you, which you received, in which you stand, and by which you are being saved, if you hold fast to the word I have preached to you--unless you believed in vain." 1 Corinthians 15:1-2

Paul is telling them to remember the gospel so that they don't forsake it.  What a serious and terrific challenge in my life!

Maturity

"Brothers, be not children in your thinking. Be infants in evil, but in your thinking be mature." 1 Corinthians 14:26



My brother Jon always claims sarcastically that immaturity is a childlike quality that he never wishes to lose. He told me once, "You can only be young once, but you can be immature forever." I agree. How is it possible that I--a believer of eighteen years--could be maturing only now?

It's only after I was dragged around through the mud by my own good intentions that I began to truly think. Paul was speaking to the Corinthians in this passage, telling them, "Use your brains!" God is a God of order. He does not enjoy chaos. He does not intend for us to enjoy chaos.

When I get upset and my attitude is to just charge ahead like a bulldozer, it's been so hard for me to check myself and say nothing. But lately I've been daily remembering the hopeless pits that I have found myself in, being mindful that Christ has truly become Deliverer and Defender in my life. And with that in the back of my mind all day, I am beginning to change.

How does this help me?
I've been forgiven so, so much.
And he who has been forgiven much loves much.
Because he who loves God obeys Him.

c.s. lewis

"Nothing, not even the best and noblest, can go on as it now is. Nothing, not even what is lowest and most bestial, will not be raised again if it submits to death." C.S. Lewis, The Great Divorce



I am a mostly forgetful person. Even events of significance are easily forgotten. I have forgotten most of my trip to Rome and most of my trip to Paris. I don't know why, but certain things slip my mind while others are burned into my memory.

One particular season of my life, however, I do remember in detail. I was getting my first encounter with true humility. My life had been so riddled with secret spiritual failures. I even remember thinking, "What's the use of confessing and repenting? There's just too much." Instead, I decided to put in just enough effort to be ahead of everyone else in my external self-righteousness.

BUT GOD... slowly began to allow me to truly see with my eyes and listen with my ears... I began to examine my life and see the bullet holes that I'd shot in my own faith: pride, generic love, and--oh, the blanket statements! So I decided to get personal.

My pride claimed, "I don't care what anyone thinks... and I want to make sure that everyone knows it." My pride told others to be holy as it gagged and restrained and prevented the Holy Spirit from cutting out the sin in my life as a surgeon would cut out cancer.

What does it look like to be humble? I have no idea. But I do know this--if my righteousness has not been crucified and regenerated, it remains only my righteousness.

Isaiah 64:6
"All of us have become like one who is unclean,
and all our righteous acts are like filthy rags;
we all shrivel up like a leaf,
and like the wind our sins sweep us away."