Where is your identity when an unexpected twist in the road brings calamity? How phased are you? Do you have enough to weather the storm?
So many empty golden cups surround you, vying for even just a portion of your very self. They seem to offer so much. A respite in the midst of crushing anxiety. Importance in the eyes of your friends and family. A quick laugh at the expense of another. You pour some of your portion into each cup, to find out that moments later it is empty again.
Fight that urge. Pour your portion into something that truly gives back. It is a small cup, not covered in jewels or diamonds, not forcing its way upon you. You pour your portion into this cup, to find yours more full than it was before. You’ll soon find you can take the next unknown bend in the road with confidence, because this unassuming portion is the cup of Christ.
In the wee days following that famous ball drop in Times Square, a long-time buddy and I, inspired by the prospect of new beginnings, decided to hike up a snowfield in the mountains west of Denver.
The morning of the hike started slowly, and after a tall coffee from McDonald’s (yes, we gave in to the beast), we parked our car and started the ascent. Ice crunched beneath our feet as we trekked through a stunning snow-encrusted forest that gave way to a vast frozen lake. To the left, a large couloir (Fun term: A steep, narrow gully between two mountain faces) separated the forest from a prominent cliff that overhung the lake. We strapped on our shoes, took one step, and were immediately blasted with gale-force winds. I felt like the tortoise in the famous moral tale, and given the rate we were trudging up the snowfield, I knew plans for a summit were slipping from view. We soon found shelter at the base of a rocky outcrop, where we strapped on our heavy skis and began the descent. The wind was at our back now, and all we had to do was stand, put our arms out, and fly like a kite as gravity shot us down the mountain.
Minutes later, our ski tips reached the edge of the familiar lake as we wiped the tears from our faces and stared yet again at that majestic couloir.
“Let’s send it.”
So, we took off our skis, put on our snowshoes, and began another intense effort up the south slope. At this point in the day, the sun’s growing heat was magnified by the reflectance of the snow, and I was burning up. I couldn’t force enough air into my lungs and would take breaks of sucking precious O2 before climbing up the next section of snow. After what seemed like ages, we made it, yet again to a clump of trees and lay in the snow. I looked down. Several tourists (or shall I say fellow hikers) now fringed the lake and I could tell they were staring up at us. I suddenly switched roles in that famous tale and wanted to become the hare. I saw myself flying down the couloir to the oohs and aahs of the growing crowd at the lake. “Let’s take it up a notch”, I thought, and, partly due to the heat, took my shirt off for an even more epic run.
Skis. Check. Stoke. Check.
I pick up my poles and immediately went into hyperdrive. Before I knew it I looked down and saw that my skis had sunk beneath the top layer of snow and were now dragging close to the ground while my body was still picking up speed. Physics works in interesting ways. Before I could blink I faceplanted, rolled, lost a ski, and found myself freezing in a blanket of snow. All my pride leading up to that moment was gone. I’m pretty sure I heard an, “Ooouuuccchhhhhh” from the lake as the shocked faces of the audience winced. GoPros, cameras, and phones were lowered, and I’m pretty sure people were shaking their heads saying what I usually say, “Damn tourist is in above their heads.”
So next time you want to do something crazy, just remember, pride comes before the fall.
I got COVID back in February. Two weeks holed up in an apartment for an extrovert can be tough, but hey, given the situation it was the least I could do to help stop the spread.
Day 1 was spent doing schoolwork, cleaning the house, and catching up on the typical things that had slipped through the cracks in previous weeks.
Day 2 shifted to workouts, calling friends, schoolwork, Netflix, and playing the floor is lava… I was getting antsy. At this rate, 12 more days was like gazing up at the summit of Everest from base camp.
On day 3, though, something happened that I didn’t expect. Out of the blue, a friend stopped by and dropped off a book and a puzzle, both of which she knew would ease my boredom. Not only had she taken time out of her day, but she was thoughtful enough to choose gifts she knew I liked. I was shocked!
If you have some free time, think about how you can make someone else’s day today. Thoughtfulness in our modern era goes such a long way. Below are some ideas for you to get started:
Write a friend a birthday card.
If you find something at the store you think a pal would like, spend the extra dollars and buy it for them as a surprise.
If someone you know is going through a tough time, spend some extra time with them to show them you care.
The “Mineralogy” puzzle from Jenna
“There is hunger for ordinary bread, and there is hunger for love, for kindness, for thoughtfulness, and this is the great poverty that makes people suffer so much.” – Mother Theresa
You wake up and check the time on your phone. 6:30 AM. Thoughts of the busy day ahead begin to snake their way into your mind as you shower. You blink. You’re at work typing up another two reports for your boss while you sip on the black gold keeping you awake (coffee). After two meetings and a quick pottery class, you zip over to the dog shelter for your weekly volunteering. You don’t make it home until 9:30 PM. You’re exhausted, but at least you can sneak in an episode of that Netflix show you’ve been bingeing. Shoot. You told your friend you would get coffee with her this morning before work and completely spaced. You stop, shake your head, and chuckle, ruminating on Bilbo’s classic line, “I feel thin, sort of stretched, like butter scraped over too much bread.”
We all need time to step back from our routines. We have to realize it’s an issue when we can’t commit WELL to all we’ve said yes to. It takes some of the fun out of what we’re doing too. When you feel like this, just take a break. Don’t schedule anything. Even if it’s for a weekend, plan a little excursion to somewhere you haven’t been before! Try a doable camping trip, or if you have the bandwidth, do something fun, like drive to a nearby town and stay for a mini-vacation. If you do this enough, you’ll see the slice of bread you’re spread over begin to get smaller. And who doesn’t like well-buttered toast?
The distant hiss of rubber on concrete drifts over the treetops and into my balcony. As droopy as some of the limbs are, their green leaves stand as markers of how resilient southern woods can be, even in the wake of a hurricane. It was amazing to see the leafy branches of a nearby Sugarberry tree stand against Ida’s relentless wind. The reason it persevered so well through the storm is mostly due to several smaller species that have grown in close proximity. Those trees provided a buffer to the wind, and without them, I am sure the Sugarberry would have been next year’s firewood. Many isolated trees did not fare so well. The winds of life can blow strongly, which is why we need each other when they do. Try and find a way to help lessen the impact of a friend hearing hard news this week, or provide encouragement to someone who could use it. You just might be the buffer they need.
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