hiking

Waiting is the Hardest Part

| Marie Griffith

I was in the Great Smoky Mountains over the weekend on a new trail with a different landscape and its own kind of challenges. The promise of a spectacular view and an abundance of wild blueberries filled me with anticipation as we made our way to the top. The narrow, rocky parts of the climb almost wore me out sooner than I needed to be worn out. I felt like a kid on a long car ride to the beach. Are we there yet?

When we reached a trail intersection that informed us we were six-tenths of a mile away from the view and the blueberries, I was encouraged. img_6870

No big deal, I thought. This is fine. We’ll be there in no time.

Six-tenths of a mile never seemed as long.

We are always waiting for something. Waiting in line. Waiting to speak to customer service. Waiting to finish a project.

Sometimes the waiting is exciting. Other times it’s painful.

Waiting for the right one to marry or for the marriage to be what we thought it would be. Waiting to lose the weight. Waiting for a relationship to be restored. Waiting for the perfect job or the dream to come true or a promise to be kept. Waiting for the cravings for the alcohol or the pills or the entire box of doughnuts to stop.

Waiting for a child. Waiting to forget the regrets of the past and the day you can look in the mirror and like the person you see. Waiting for the sadness to go away. Waiting for God to come through.

That kind of waiting can be so hard that one more day of it seems unbearable. It feels impossible to keep going.

img_6871It’s that kind of waiting that God will use to change us. When it all feels like too much and it’s taking too long and it’s just too hard.

He’ll open our eyes. Or reveal Himself to us in a new way. God works while we wait. He may not change our circumstances.

He’ll do something even greater. He’ll change our hearts and minds. He’ll make us more compassionate and less judgmental. Give us greater faith and softer hearts.

In the waiting, we learn to fix our eyes on Jesus. We learn that He is with us and takes care of us. We aren’t diminished in the waiting. We grow in it because we work through it. We are made stronger and more patient in the waiting. And we see more clearly because of it. Best of all, we learn to love better because of the waiting.

God is greater than the pain of waiting. Great things will happen.

Just wait and see.

I truly believe I will live to see the Lord’s goodness. Wait for the Lord’s help. Be strong and brave, and wait for the Lord’s help.    Psalm 27:13-14

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The Blazes

| Marie Griffith

This Monday School post is inspired by my backpacking trip over the weekend. According to the Georgia Appalachian Trail Club there are 165,000 or so white blazes on the Appalachian Trail. A blaze is a 2 inch by 6 inch vertical rectangle painted in white on trees, rocks, posts….even bridges to mark the AT. Some hikers forgo a map and only follow the white blazes to guide them on the trail. blaze

I never knew what a blaze was until I had to know what it was. It’s a good thing our guide shared about them because they helped as I trekked the trail alone in the snow on my first AT hike. It seems simple enough, doesn’t it? Follow the white blazes.

It makes me think of the exchange between Jesus and Philip in John chapter one.

The next day Jesus decided to go to Galilee. He found Philip and said to him, “Follow me.”  John 1:43

What Jesus didn’t say is just as important. He didn’t tell Philip to get his act together. He didn’t give him a checklist or any instructions. He didn’t require him to quote a large section of the Old Testament or ask him about his past.

Jesus said, “Follow me.”

Philip followed. Then he told his friend Nathanael and he followed Jesus.

Is it that simple? Follow Jesus and tell our friends about it?

Or are we like the teachers of the law and the Pharisees called out by Jesus in Matthew 23, adding heavy burdens and strict rules? Have we made it something it’s not supposed to be?

The white blazes are easy to follow usually, but hikers miss a blaze and get off course. This past weekend a young hiker asked us if he was on the AT. When we told him we were, he asked us to tell the young lady following him at a distance that she was on the right course. She smiled with a sigh of relief when we assured her she was where she was supposed to be.

That’s what friends are for.

 

Forest

The Hard Parts

| Marie Griffith

It’s a hard place to be when nothing goes as planned. When everything falls apart. When all your expectations are unmet.

I expected the first day of our backpacking trip to be cold but not icy. I expected the hike to be difficult but not treacherous. I expected good conversation around a blazing fire the first night in camp. Instead, the icy wind storm forced us to set up and enter our tents early where we ate our dinners alone and tried to stay warm and dry. The long night was made longer as the storm continued through the dark morning hours. The wind howled, trees crashed to the ground, mice scurried around our tents, and we turned over and over in our sleeping bags. The morning brought relief from the storm, but ice covered everything.

It was so cold we didn’t want to move out of our sleeping bags, but we ate breakfast and began the long process of taking down tents and repacking our packs. Some in our group left because of sickness or injury but some more of us thought of quitting. Some of us wanted a toilet, a warm bed, and just not to be on the adventure any longer.

Maybe more of us than I knew wanted to leave the trail, but we stayed with it. We hiked through one of the most beautiful sights I’ve ever seen. The frozen forest was other-wordly. Two or so hours into our hike we were out of the ice and ascending the mountain where the sun shone bright on our faces. We ate our lunches on rocks warmed by the sun, then we climbed Little Hump and Big Hump Mountains.

The three day, two night backpacking trip far exceeded my expectations and turned out to be one of the most difficult, joyful, and memorable adventures for me. The hard parts of the trip made the good parts really good.

It’s like that with most anything, isn’t it? The challenges of a thing make the finish that much sweeter. We’re made stronger by the challenges. We learn more from difficult situations and we find out what we can really do.

The hard parts are worth it.

Unlikely

This Time Tomorrow

| Marie Griffith

As a young girl, I did this thing when I looked forward to something and especially when I dreaded something. I’m unsure why, but the time passed better when I did it.

The day before the fifth grade spelling bee I said to myself, “This time tomorrow I’ll be spelling these words.”

A week before my family’s move to Chattanooga, “This time next week we’ll live in a new house.”

A few days before an oral presentation in my senior English class, “This time next week my presentation will be over.”

I still do this. All the time.

IMG_20180311_140856434_HDRBefore a job interview. Training for a race. Preparing a speech. Looking forward to a trip. Writing my book. It’s just this thing I do.

I’m doing it now.

This time tomorrow I’ve hiked five miles, set up our camp, and I’m sitting around a fire with friends and family. This will be my first backpacking trip on the Appalachian Trail. It’s a three day, two night adventure. We’ve been preparing for weeks for the trip and I anticipate it will be everything I expect and then some.

We’ve gathered our gear, practiced the tent set up, and some of us hiked on Sunday to get the feel of carrying our loaded backpacks. The closer it gets the more excited I get.IMG_6312

The weather says we’ll be hiking and camping in snow. What beauty awaits us!

This time tomorrow……..

 

A Clear View

| Marie Griffith

Though my daughter and I climbed the mountain for about two hours, our view didn’t compare to this guy’s atop the imposing flatiron.

Blake and I were content to watch others as we rested and shared our snacks.

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Several teenagers climbed a rock below us to see the other side and get a different view.

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High or low, on a mountain or in the valley, the happiest of times, the sad ones, and the scary ones too…..the best view is the one where you look back and see God’s mercies.

And when you can do that…..

you have the best view of all.
Scale

Shine

| Marie Griffith

The sun was still low in the sky when I went on my first run here this morning. I found a beautiful park with lots of running trails. We are in Colorado visiting my son and we’re beyond happy to be here.

We hiked the Flatirons yesterday. My son was a great guide…..excited for us to experience it. He forgets that we’re not as brave as he is. He likes to go off trail and scale rocks and jump from one rock to another. I watch him and wonder and then I’m brave.

This is a place he shines. The outdoors….a new place……rugged and risky.

..the Lord make his face shine on you and be gracious to you.   Number 6:25

 

Bliss

Image | | Marie Griffith

I’m happy in the forest….hiking, exploring, breathing in the air, finding tiny frogs or strange mushrooms. Climbing over fallen trees and crossing creeks. The stark changes with each season are remarkable. The forest is almost other worldly to me and it’s a good place to think.

What makes the forest even better is when one or some of my favorite people are with me. Good conversations happen in the forest, too.

This is only one beautiful scene from a recent hike with my youngest daughter.

 

Sipsey River Trail in Bankhead National Forest

 

 

This Friday

| Marie Griffith

In response to The Daily Post’s Weekly Photo Challenge Transition.

No Black Friday for me. I spent the day doing one of my favorite things in one of my favorite places with one of my favorite people. My youngest daughter and I hiked in The Sipsey Wilderness.

Creation is ever changing………year to year…….season to season…..morning to night…..moment to moment. The forest is bright green in the springtime with new leaves budding on the trees but now the forest is brown, and orange, with some splashes of red and even a hint of purple throughout.

No lines, or traffic or rushing around here.

Just boundless beauty all around us. The sounds of waterfalls and the leaves crunching under our feet.

Exactly what my soul needed today.

 

 

 

Disconnect

| Marie Griffith

The purpose of my Live Like it Matters Challenge is to inspire you and me to do something to make a positive difference in the lives of those around us, in the place around us, wherever we are. I want us to live on purpose.

The title of this post seems a contradiction then, because after all, we have to connect to make a difference. Every other challenge I’ve issued requires us to connect with others in some way and now my challenge is to disconnect.

I’m challenging you to disconnect from your phone, close your laptop, and unplug your other mobile devices so you can connect in a real way with real people. The people right around you. At home and work. The ball field, the park and the gym. School, the grocery store, church, and the bank. Put your phone down. Take the ear buds out, put the blue tooth device away, and smile at someone. Or even better, speak.

Connect. See. Listen.

I’m as guilty as anyone of being unaware of someone two feet away from me because I’m checking the stats of my blog, or looking at the latest headline from Relevant.

With all of our connectedness, we’re more disconnected from each other than ever. Twitter, Instagram, Facebook, Snapchat, or Periscope will never fulfill our need for real connection……face to face, heart to heart connection.

The real deal. The kind with voice inflection and eye contact and touch and body language and all the other little nuances of real conversation. No emoji can convey all of that.

This week, for at least 2 hours a day – disconnect. If this seems absolutely impossible to you, then you need to take this challenge seriously. During your “disconnected” time, pay attention to those around you wherever you are. Watch and listen. Begin a conversation. Look at the person you’re talking with and give them your undivided attention.

Sometimes the best way to disconnect is to go someplace that has no service. I went to one of those places recently with my son, one of his friends and my youngest daughter. I connected with my son and daughter more during that 2 1/2 hour hike than I had in two weeks. No service meant we paid attention to each other. We reminisced and finished conversations and learned things about each other. Instead of seeing the latest photo on Instagram we saw several kinds of mushrooms and ferns.

But you don’t have to take a hike to disconnect. Just put the phone down.

And don’t check it for 2 hours.

In response to the Daily Post’s Hike.