Happy Birthday Joe. Thought I’d tell you about Nepal,
though you were there somehow, somewhere and everywhere. You’re part of me, so I
guess we carried each other, like we used to. You always helped me get to where
I needed to be. So I climbed -- higher, higher and higher into the thin air
where the world’s tallest mountains stand like heavenly sentinels, silently
shouting victory amidst an environment destined for struggle.
I didn’t know what I’d find in Nepal, but I had to go. And
just like on Kilimanjaro, once I was sufficiently at the end of myself, what (Who)
I needed found me.
“Be
still, and know that I am God!” -- Psalm 46:10
(NLT)
At 16,000+ feet, everything is slow and fuzzy – thinking, breathing,
movement and memory. My thoughts were simple: Do I wear the 3-day-dirty shirt
or the 4-day-dirty shirt? Do I order porridge or pancakes for breakfast? Do I
have enough toilet paper for the day? Did I Steri-Pen my water? Will I need an extra
jacket today? Will the next tea house have hooks to hang our clothes? Will it
be legal to go to bed at 7pm? Important stuff. I deliciously lost track of what
day and time it was, how long we’d been hiking and even where I was. What a
gift! Uncomplicated thoughts, hard physical work, one goal and a fabulously
magical group of new friends with whom to share the journey.
I’m not exactly sure what happened when, but the impression
resting on my soul is far more important than the fine details. We were about two
weeks (give or take) into the trek to Everest Base Camp, and we’d been hiking
for a while that day. The cumulative effects of lack of sleep, altitude and exhaustion
were starting to take a toll. We were cresting a high point, and I remember I couldn’t
reach my water bottle on the side of my backback. Oh, the struggle. A team
member quickly came to help, and I cried. I cried and cried and cried. I
sobbed, I heaved, I yelled. I couldn’t stop. If a come-apart could be measured
in meters, mine would’ve been an almost-8,000 meter one. [There are 14
mountains in the world that are over 8,000 meters. Everest is one of these. As
it happens, Mount Nuptse, elevation 7,861 meters, was front-row-center to my
come-apart.] Nuptse, awesome and immovable, received my pain without judgement
and regarded me with raw and pure magnificence. My friends stood behind me,
propping me up, bearing my full weight (which is no small feat). Others in our
group waited in respect and silence, many deep in their own soulful moments, reflecting
on Truth surfacing from the deep in the mountains’ splendor. We were all safe
and loved, solitary yet one in the depth of our shared experience.
For me, this moment represented innumerable
moments in my life that I’ve found difficult to reconcile. Joe’s dying lives
with me every day, and I realize that the grief of that loss will never go
away. Rebuilding is tough, especially for this Southern girl who had things
easier once upon a time. Without going into details (again, it’s the
impression that matters), it’s been a hard 7 years. Memories of my mother, my
father, my brother, regrets, paths not chosen and paths taken away also
surfaced as part of this meltdown. But in that moment with Nupste and new
friends as witnesses, hard became holy. Loss became gain. It’s OK that grief
stays with us. I’m not sure why I thought it would ever go away. Grief and joy
go hand in hand. We can’t fully experience one without fully experiencing the
other. I’m alive, and I get to experience both; for that, I’m profoundly
grateful. Sun in the middle of rain indeed.
“To those who have sorrow in Zion I will give them a crown of beauty
instead of ashes. I will give them the oil of joy instead of sorrow, and a
spirit of praise instead of a spirit of no hope. Then they will be called oaks
that are right with God, planted by the Lord, that He may be honored.” --
Isaiah 61:3 (NLV)
Joe died
7 years ago today. According to Google (the quintessential expert of everything),
“The number 7 is quite significant in the Bible, appearing over 700 times
throughout both the Old and New Testaments. In biblical numerology, 7 symbolizes completion
or perfection. It is said that God created the world in 6 days and rested
on the 7th.” I choose to believe that my perspective of sorrow and loss
has changed forever. I pray that they remain in their proper place behind me. I
choose to put one foot in front of the other and to discover the adventure,
wonder and joy that is surely on the path ahead.
Everyone needed carrying at some point during our trek, and our group stood and delivered each time. Joe, I’ll stand by you again one day. Until then, I thank God for everyone who has helped me to stand when I’m beyond tired, when I can’t take another step, when I gasp for air -- when I’m finally at the end of myself. Namaste.
“Well I'm a lot like you
When you're standing at the crossroads
And don't know which path to choose
Let me come along
'Cause even if you're wrong
I'll stand by you
I'll stand by you.”
--The Pretenders, I’ll Stand By You
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