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!